“Your hearing seems to be quite flexible too, huh?”
“Can you give me your arm? I need to change the bandage.”
Although she had clearly shown annoyance earlier, Judith’s attitude suddenly became actively cooperative, as if she were trying to change the subject. Erne clicked his tongue in response.
Regardless of his reaction, Judith began unwrapping the bandage from Erne’s right arm.
According to the physician, since the poisoned dart hadn’t penetrated deeply and was removed quickly, the poison didn’t spread much, which was fortunate. Even so, the area where the dart had pierced was swollen and dark red.
“Even if it stings, bear with it.”
Her hands weren’t particularly skilled, but they were firm and precise as she applied the ointment. Erne, who had been injured countless times before, found it strange. It was the first time someone had taken care of his wounds and changed his bandages for him.
There had been instances where the physician came to check his injuries, but that was it. Once the bleeding stopped, Erne would usually remove the bandage himself and, if the wound reopened, he would just pour some strong liquor on it and move on.
Perhaps that’s why this whole situation felt strangely embarrassing to him. Of course, he was the one who had asked for it, but it was only to tease Judith. He hadn’t expected her to actually do it.
She was probably doing it to avoid having to spend more on medicine if the wound got worse. But that also meant that, even if it cost more, she would be willing to take him to the physician if necessary.
She could have just ignored it if the wound got worse, so the fact that she didn’t… made her seem oddly endearing… Or not. Spending so much time with Judith, who was always talking about money, seemed to be affecting his own thoughts.
To begin with, it was Judith’s fault he got hurt while trying to protect her, so it was only right for her to cover his medical expenses.
But feeling touched by that? Was the poison still affecting his mind?
“Are you sure you haven’t made any enemies?”
“Why are you picking a fight with your caretaker?”
“You barely seem afraid when someone is dying right before your eyes. Did you perhaps work in this kind of field before and then quit?”
Erne leaned in close to Judith and whispered.
“Be honest. Even if you confess that you used to be an assassin, I won’t ask for a divorce.”
“Can’t you see my hands are shaking because I’m scared?”
“It’s not because you want to punch me, is it?”
He’s got sharp instincts, huh?
Judith cleared her throat with a fake cough and avoided his gaze. Erne let out a small laugh as he observed Judith, who didn’t even bother denying it.
“Well, I guess for Miss Harrington, money is the scariest thing of all, right?”
“……….”
“Ah, so that’s it.”
So you’re afraid of money. What are you, possessed by a money ghost or something? Erne glanced at Judith’s back, half-expecting to see something actually clinging to her.
“Sir Erne, if you dig into the root cause of most terrifying events in this world, you’ll find that it’s usually about money.”
Judith tied off the bandage with a firm knot, wearing a look that seemed to say, ‘What would you know?’
“Anyway, are you absolutely sure there won’t be any assassins coming for a while?”
“I’m telling you, there won’t be.”
Most assassin groups rarely attempted back-to-back missions immediately after failing to eliminate a target.
Not only would the target likely increase their security, but just surviving an assassination attempt would leave most people on edge for days due to nerves and paranoia.
“Typically, they wait for the target to lower their guard and then make their move. Unless it’s someone they’re really desperate to kill, they wouldn’t strike again in less than a day…”
Erne stopped mid-sentence and suddenly grabbed Judith’s wrist as she was finishing the bandage. A bad premonition wrapped around Judith like a shroud.
“No way.”
You said they wouldn’t come, that they absolutely wouldn’t come!
Judith shot him a sharp look of protest, but Erne merely mumbled to himself as he reached for his sword.
Whoever they are, they’re absolutely desperate to kill us.
***
“What? Failed? You’re telling me they failed even after I sent six of them?!”
Cliff’s hand flung the wine glass in a wide arc, shattering it against the wall. While the aging butler calmly fetched another glass and refilled it, Cliff nervously shook his leg.
At first, he had sent four assassins. When that failed, he paid a bonus and sent six. And yet, they failed again? Even with Judith, that walking burden, by Erne’s side?
“Sir Erne is not just any ordinary knight, Master. Please, calm down.”
That was the problem. The fact that Erne wasn’t just any ordinary knight was what made Cliff feel even more on edge. If Erne regained his memory…
Knowing Erne’s personality, the moment he remembered that the last person he drank with was Cliff, he would no doubt come storming in. For now, it seemed he hadn’t regained his memory yet, given how quiet things were.
Or maybe he had regained his memory but was buying time to gather evidence? Cliff, who had been furiously scratching the armrest of his chair, suddenly burst out in a fit of rage.
“Send eight of them. No, send ten!”
“Why not try contacting them, Master?”
Losing his reason to fear, he guzzled straight from the bottle and snapped at the butler.
“What’s the point of that?! I’ll decide whether to inform them or not, so you just go and send the assassins!”
***
A few days later.
“Ahhh!”
“Are you serious?! If you’ve got a sword, use it, you idiot!”
Erne shouted as he slashed the back of the assassin who had Henry on the defensive.
“Have your skills actually gotten worse?”
“Even if your mouth is crooked, you should still speak the truth.”
Henry grumbled as he shoved aside the assassin collapsing toward him.
“I never had any skills to begin with.”
Henry had originally received his knighthood through connections. When those connections were severed, he was dragged off to the battlefield—not because he had exceptional skills, but simply because he had nowhere else to go.
“How many days has it been? Ugh, no wonder this month’s fortune reading was so bad.”
Using his sword like a cane, Henry barely managed to stand.
It had been three days since Erne told him to stay at the Rainland mansion to protect Judith.
For three nights straight, assassins had stormed the mansion.
Erne had fought them off mostly on his own, but exhaustion was unavoidable. His sweat-drenched hair clung to his face as he wiped it back with his hand.
The bandage on his right arm, which had been fine just a little while ago, was now in tatters. The poison dart wound hadn’t fully healed, and the constant movement wasn’t helping.
To make matters worse, the number of wounds on Erne’s body seemed to increase with each passing day.
“They’re all dead again.”
Henry and Erne both turned their heads at the eerie voice from behind them. At some point, Judith had appeared and was quietly muttering as she inspected the corpses of the assassins sprawled on the ground.
Her hair was disheveled from dodging the assassins, and her eyes, now filled with intense determination, glinted ominously beneath it.
“I told you not to kill them all today! How are we supposed to figure out who’s behind this?”
“Right, and why do you lose all sense the moment you pick up a sword?”
Both Judith and Henry blamed Erne, leaving him utterly speechless.
Thanks to whom were they both still alive right now? Erne was so dumbfounded that he was left speechless, while Judith bit her lip, deep in thought.
This wasn’t going to work. If they kept focusing on capturing assassins alive to find out who was behind it, they’d just end up wrecking all their household belongings.
“Who could it be?”
Pausing as she wiped blood from the hallway, Judith bit down hard on her lip. Even if they hadn’t identified the mastermind, she could still speculate.
“Someone who has both the wealth and motive to keep sending assassins non-stop.”
Judith combed through her own memories, but she had never done anything that would cause someone to bear a grudge against her.
The only thing that came to mind was when she had rejected Cliff’s offer to seize her noble title.
“Is that why he sent assassins?”
Cliff certainly had the motive. And as a lawyer, he probably had a decent amount of wealth, too. But it was his methods that bothered her.
Sending four assassins to kill one woman?
Right from the start, too? It only took one assassin to kill someone like Judith.
So could it be… were the assassins targeting Erne instead?
“But the only person who knows Erne is still alive is Sir Henry.”
Whenever Erne went outside, he always covered his face. Whenever it was necessary to meet with people or gather information, Henry went in his place.
While the conman medium knew about Erne’s resurrection, it didn’t seem plausible that someone who scammed people for petty cash would spend a fortune to hire assassins.
“Who are you talking to, Madam?”
“I’m just talking to myself. Leave me be.”
Henry and Erne were whispering to each other, disrupting Judith’s train of thought, but she tried hard to maintain her concentration. Other than Henry, who else knew that Erne was alive?
“…Leon.”
Leon knew.
The last time he caused a scene, Leon had seen Erne’s face. When he entered the mansion, Erne had carelessly taken off his hood and pulled down the cloth that covered his nose and mouth.
In that state, he had run to block Leon after hearing the commotion, so Leon must have seen Erne’s face.
But even if Leon recognized Erne, there was no reason for him to send assassins. Above all—
“He wouldn’t have the money for it.”
When Judith crossed her arms and muttered, Henry leaned toward Erne and whispered.
“She’s been talking to herself too much. Do you think she might’ve hit her head earlier?”
“She’s never been completely normal, to be honest.”
Come on, she was trying to think about something important! Instead of helping, they were just being a distraction. Judith squinted her eyes into triangles as she glared at them. Startled, Henry quickly hid behind Erne’s back.
Ignoring Henry and Erne’s chattering, Judith continued her reasoning.
“Leon saw Erne. So who would he have gone to?”
If he’s a gambler in need of money, he’d naturally try to turn that information into cash.
Who would be willing to pay for this information?
“There’s only one person he’d sell it to.”
Someone connected to Erne, Judith, and Leon.
The person who offered Leon money to sell off his younger sister. The person who stood to gain the most from Erne’s death and from this marriage—Cliff Ackerman.
“Just before he died, Sir Erne said he was going out to meet someone. Cliff often paid for Erne’s bar tabs, didn’t he?”
If so, could it be that Erne had arranged to meet Cliff? Since they knew each other, Erne wouldn’t have been on guard and would have accepted the drinks Cliff bought for him without hesitation.
“Certainly suspicious. But it’s still circumstantial, Madam. Even if Cliff is the real culprit, we can’t report him to the guards based on suspicion alone.”
Henry’s words were valid. Judith, frustrated, drummed her fingers furiously against the wall, then suddenly snapped her fingers as if she had a brilliant idea.
“Do we really have to report him to the guards right away? How about we go confront him directly?”
“Confront him?”
“Yeah. We can’t just sit here dealing with assassins forever. Even if Cliff isn’t the mastermind, if we stir things up, something is bound to surface.”
No matter who it is, I will catch them. And I will make them pay for every loss I’ve suffered. Absolutely!
“But, Madam.”
Henry, who had been quietly watching the fiery determination burning in Judith, cautiously spoke up.
“Even if you try to confront him, you’ll need some kind of leverage. Just talking won’t get you anywhere.”
“Leverage, huh…”
After a brief moment of contemplation, Judith’s gaze dropped to the ground.
“I think I might have something useful.”
🍓;
*Premonition: A feeling or intuition that something bad or significant is about to happen, often without clear evidence.
*Circumstantial : Based on indirect evidence or details that suggest something, rather than proving it directly.
*Crooked Mouth : A metaphorical phrase meaning someone may speak dishonestly or sarcastically, but it doesn’t always imply literal dishonesty.
*Money Ghost : A playful or metaphorical term suggesting someone is overly obsessed or haunted by financial concerns.
