Chapter 29

Adrian stopped pacing and waved a dismissive hand. "Honestly, I wouldn't take it too seriously. If someone really wanted to kill you, they would've sent someone more competent. She failed, after all."

He frowned. "You're saying I shouldn't be cautious after being attacked in this manor? What if she comes back?"

Adrian chuckled. "Then I suppose I'll let her finish the job for being bold enough to try." She crossed her arms and looked at him, a sly glint in her eyes. "You're not that fragile, are you, angel?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "You really have a way of brushing things off."

Adrian shrugged. "You survived. That's what matters. Now," she said, glancing at the single bed in the room, "there's the real question—where are you sleeping?"

His eyes followed hers, landing on the bed, then darting to the small couch near the corner of the room. "What do you mean? There's only one bed."

"Exactly," she replied, stepping toward the bed and sitting down on its edge. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back casually. "I'm not sharing a bed with you, if that's what you're thinking. You can sleep on the couch."

He raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? After everything I just dealt with, you're making me sleep on that tiny thing?"

Adrian smirked. "Of course. Or are you too delicate to handle a little discomfort?"

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "You're unbelievable. You think I'm going to let you take the bed while I'm stuck on that? You're the one who dragged me into this mess."

"Exactly," she said, standing up with a teasing smile. "Which is why you're the one on the couch. Consider it payment for your... services."

He stared at her, unimpressed. "You know, for someone who says I shouldn't take an assassin seriously, you sure like to treat me like I'm expendable."

Adrian chuckled softly, brushing past him toward the window. "If you're so offended, angel, feel free to leave. But something tells me you won't."

He sighed in resignation, realizing he wasn't going to win the argument. "Fine, but don't come crying to me if you need help in the middle of the night," he muttered, plopping down onto the couch with an exaggerated groan.

Adrian smirked again but said nothing, turning her attention to the view outside.

 ...

The faint light of morning entered into the chamber, casting long shadows across the room. He stirred on the couch, his back aching from the cramped, uncomfortable position. Adrian was already awake, standing by the window with her arms crossed, the soft light illuminating her composed features.

"You're up early," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his neck.

"I don't sleep much," she replied without turning around. "You snore, by the way."

He scowled. "I do not."

She finally glanced back. "You do. Loudly."

He rolled his eyes and stood, stretching his arms. "Guess we should head down before Duke Reinhardt starts wondering where we are."

Adrian nodded, though her expression turned slightly serious. "Be careful. Something feels... off this morning."

He paused, studying her face, but she didn't elaborate. With a shrug, he straightened his clothes and followed her out of the room.

The grand dining hall was already bustling with activity as servants moved about, setting plates and pouring drinks. At the center of the long table, Duke Reinhardt and Lady Evanna sat at opposite ends, with Felix and Liana seated to their sides. The four of them were the picture of nobility, each dressed impeccably for the morning meal.

Reinhardt greeted them with a smile. "Ah, Your Grace, Please, join us."

Adrian returned the Duke's smile with a subtle nod, her gaze sharp and discerning as she took her seat at the table. He followed, sitting beside her, his movements slightly stiff from the previous night.

"Your Grace," Reinhardt began smoothly, lifting a crystal goblet of wine to his lips, "it is rare to have someone of your... reputation gracing my humble estate. To what do I owe this honor?"

Adrian leaned back in her chair. "Perhaps I merely sought a change of scenery. The capital grows tiresome after a while."

Reinhardt chuckled. "And yet, I doubt someone like you would leave the Empress's side without a more pressing reason."

Adrian's smile remained steady, but her tone turned colder. "Perhaps I'm here to ensure your loyalty to the crown remains unwavering."

Felix, seated to Reinhardt's right, tensed slightly, though the Duke's expression remained composed. "You insult me, Your Grace. My loyalty has never been in question. Surely Her Majesty is aware of this."

Seated just beside Adrian, he glanced around discreetly as she spoke with the Duke, his focus shifting to the possibility of the assassin being someone within the manor. If the assassin was here, who could it be?

'What do you think, system?' he asked internally.

[...]

[The maid standing behind the Duke's wife appears to be the most suspicious. Based on her posture, she seems to be injured.]

'Hmm, I see,' he thought, his gaze shifting toward the maid.

Locking eyes with her, he offered a faint smile.

The maid noticed his stare but remained composed, her reaction subtle, betraying nothing.

After finishing the meal, he waited for the right moment. Adrian was still engaged in talk with Duke. Meanwhile, he excused himself casually, muttering something about fresh air, and made his way toward the maid.

She was clearing plates near the edge of the hall, her movements careful yet deliberate, as if compensating for an unseen discomfort. Her injured posture betrayed a subtle stiffness that confirmed the system's earlier observation.

He approached her slowly, his expression calm but unreadable. "Excuse me," he said, his tone polite but firm enough to demand attention. "May I have a word?"

The maid glanced at him, her eyes briefly widening before she dipped her head in a show of deference. "Of course, my lord. How can I assist you?"

He studied her for a moment, noting the way her hands fidgeted with the edge of a plate. "I noticed you seemed to be favoring one side as you moved. Did you get hurt recently?"

Her lips pressed together tightly, but she maintained her composure. "It's nothing serious, my lord. Just a small accident while tending to the kitchen fire."

"Is that so?" he said, tilting his head. "Forgive me for prying, but I've seen plenty of injuries in my time. That doesn't look like something from a kitchen accident." He let the words hang, observing her reaction.

The maid hesitated, her gaze dropping momentarily before she forced a smile. "I assure you, it's nothing to worry about."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Are you sure? Because the last person who underestimated me regretted it. If there's something you're hiding, now's the time to come clean."

Her breathing quickened slightly, though her face remained neutral. "I… don't understand what you mean, my lord."

He leaned in further. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about illusions, would you? Perhaps someone tried a spell they weren't quite skilled enough to pull off?"

The maid's composure faltered for a split second—a subtle twitch of her lips and a tightening around her eyes. "I'm just a servant, my lord. I wouldn't know anything about such matters."

"Of course," he said, straightening up with a faint smile. "It must be a coincidence, then." He gestured toward her injured side. "But if you're lying, I'll find out. And next time, there won't be a conversation first."

The maid's face paled, but she nodded. "Understood, my lord."

He gave her one last lingering look before stepping away, his mind churning over the exchange. Something felt off—she was hiding something, he was sure of it. If she wasn't the assassin, she was definitely involved.

'What do you think, system?' he asked internally.

[She exhibited signs of fear and avoidance when questioned about illusions. Her injury is consistent with a failed spell or combat attempt.]

Just as his thoughts circled back to the maid and a possible connection to the Sentinel, he heard a voice behind.

"Let's return to our room," Adrian said curtly as she stood and headed for the door without waiting for him.

He followed her, and soon they reached their room. She closed the door behind them and turned to face him.

"We'll be staying here for a while," she said.

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I suspect the Duke is somehow connected to the Sentinel," she replied.

The thought made him pause. It did make sense. "If that's true… and he knows we're here to hunt the Sentinel, won't he try to kill us?"

"Or somehow sabotage the mission?" he added.

She nodded. "Yes, but that's not the concern. The Duke can't harm us. What I'm worried about is the Sentinel itself." Her voice lowered slightly. "The one we're after might be a Malefic Sentinel."

"Malefic Sentinel?" he repeated.