Chapter 84

This was a very familiar task for him.

“The young master will be back soon…”

“What about hot water?”

Evading the eyes of the Bran servants preparing for Malik Bran’s return, he made his way to Malik Bran’s study.

Today, Malik Bran would die in an “unavoidable accident.”

It would be believable enough if it were said that he was crushed to death by a collapsing bookshelf in the study.

Even if it was rumored as an accident, the noble faction would understand.

They’d know exactly how someone who dared to touch Rodella could end up “naturally” dead.

—…….

The door to the study opened soundlessly, and Aivert was just about to slip inside when—

“…!”

Something was wrong.

Aivert paused.

It was the scent of blood wafting from the study.

According to his intel, Malik Bran shouldn’t even be in his study at this hour.

Then what was this scene?

“….”

Aivert slowly approached the metallic tang in the air.

No need to be tense.

The other party was no longer breathing.

In the dark study—

With no lights on, Malik Bran sat dead in a chair, cold and lifeless.

Aivert’s gaze scanned the area around the body.

There were no signs of a struggle for survival. In fact, no signs of a fight or frantic movement at all.

He had been killed instantly—stabbed cleanly in the heart from up close.

There were faint signs of twitching, but that was it. No struggle. No reaction to an enemy.

It looked like he had been killed while facing someone he knew.

Aivert narrowed his eyes.

Malik Bran should not have been in his study at this hour.

For him to have been made to return despite that… it would have taken someone with significant influence over him.

But the servants outside didn’t even know their master had returned.

Which meant whoever met with Malik Bran had secretly lured him up to the study.

It was obvious, then.

Whoever had enough authority to make Malik Bran—who was favored as the next Chief of Protocol by the noble faction—obey without question…

That person had moved personally.

“…The one who always tried so hard to keep his hands clean has finally stepped forward, huh.”

Most likely, seeing Royden’s military power so openly had forced a change in behavior.

The situation had changed drastically.

“….”

Finishing that thought, Aivert glanced at the strangely cut lock of Malik Bran’s hair.

It had been taken, almost like a trophy—cut off cleanly and mockingly.

Just as Aivert’s eyes narrowed—

“Lord Aivert.”

Another figure emerged silently from the shadows of the study.

He furrowed his brows slightly upon seeing Malik Bran’s lifeless body—clearly not Aivert’s doing—then bowed quietly.

And then, in a whisper, he said the words Aivert had both longed for and feared the most:

“Lady Rodella Syveric has regained consciousness.”

***

Click.

The sound of a teacup being placed down.

Other than that, not even the sound of breathing disturbed the silence.

In front of Ryan Diepelt was a bundle of hair, wrapped in a handkerchief.

The strands fluttered in the air currents of the room, shifting with every ripple of fabric or whisper of breeze.

But the one who had placed it there didn’t seem to treat the hair with any great reverence.

Duke Benerix’s bored gaze turned toward the hair.

“Countless people die and disappear every day.”

He finally opened his mouth.

“Some die to monsters, their bodies never found. Others die old or sick, with clear causes of death.”

His voice echoed heavily through the room.

“But I know this—there are more deaths that go unseen by the world.”

A smile crept across his face.

“Do you understand that, as well?”

His eyes rested on Ryan Diepelt.

By then, Ryan was beginning to feel a chill crawling over his body.

The hair color looked too familiar—and the bloodstained handkerchief was ominous enough.

But now, with the way the duke was speaking, there could only be one answer.

“…”

Ryan’s gaze shifted to his right.

He had assumed the man was late and impudent for keeping a duke waiting.

But now—he likely wouldn’t be coming at all.

Because he was dead.

As that conclusion dawned, Ryan began to tremble uncontrollably.

Duke Benerix continued speaking, unfazed by his reaction.

“I am one of those who make those unseen deaths. That’s why it’s a problem when you and I meet in secret.”

And of course, this meeting was precisely that: a secret.

Unknown to anyone. Even Ryan Diepelt’s own subordinates didn’t know about it.

“Are you listening?”

Startled, Ryan nodded frantically at the duke’s words.

“O-of course.”

The duke smiled again.

“Letting that heretical cult grow by turning a blind eye—letting others feed it with support—that was a smart move.”

Ryan swallowed hard.

The duke already knew what support Ryan had sought from other nobles after their last meeting—despite not being present at the time.

“If you’d let it grow a little more and wiped it out in one stroke, the Red Knights would’ve gained overwhelming credit. The Emperor was watching that cult closely, too. But instead…”

Duke Benerix narrowed his eyes. His smile vanished.

“Some fool stole the opportunity. Now the Azure Knights are dominant. Unless you raise hell, Ryan, this won’t end well.”

Clicking his tongue, the duke leaned in slightly.

“And out of all people, Rodella Syveric gets captured?”

He laughed coldly.

“If you couldn’t even control that level of variable…”

You should’ve just killed her the moment she was captured.

Couldn’t even plant someone inside the cult?

“You realize how much trouble your idiotic mistake has caused, don’t you?”

Ryan felt like his brain had frozen over.

It could’ve been him dead instead of Malik Bran.

“Because of you, we now have to take risks.”

From what the duke had observed, the Emperor had grown increasingly cunning.

The recent pressure on the Bran family proved that.

Those properties the Crown had granted during the war?

The royal family never cared about things like that before.

But now, suddenly, the Emperor was digging through old documents, dust and all, to review those grants.

Why?

And why only after Royden visited the palace?

“My sweet nephew seems to be considering joining hands with Royden again.”

Duke Benerix looked down at his own hand.

‘Refusing to take this uncle’s hand, are we?’

‘Had he taken this hand, I would’ve sent him off in his sleep, painlessly.’

He hadn’t expected the rift between the Emperor and Royden—caused by the former duke’s scandal—to ever heal.

He thought he just needed to wait for the break to widen.

But—

“Aivert Royden…”

That man’s unpredictability had ruined everything.

Running around as if he’d never be head of house, only to suddenly become Royden—and even stabilize the family.

And the reason, most likely—

“Rodella Syveric.”

The noble faction’s original ideal scenario was this:

After occupying all major positions in the capital, the Emperor would die in an “accidental” manner, and they would take the throne.

The Emperor, unwilling to empower the noble houses, had remained unmarried and held tightly to all power.

That’s what made the plan possible.

Without Royden, the Emperor was like a body without limbs. And indecisive to boot.

It was going well… until that woman, Rodella Syveric, entered the picture and ruined everything.

What kind of woman was she to sway Aivert Royden?

In the routine reports, she hadn’t seemed particularly special.

Top of her class at the Academy?

That was just a meaningless title from a tiny, closed world.

The Chancellor selecting her? Surely it was just because her background aligned with her preferences.

Or so he had thought.

Now, he was beginning to wonder.

What kind of woman was she?

“There’s no time left to wait, Lord Diepelt.”