Chapter 45: The Man in the Trench Coat

Facing Dolph's question, a plan began to form in Ravel's mind:

That looks like the badge of a Fourth-Rank Mage! Her status is far higher than Father's, and she must be incredibly powerful. If she could help me escape this place, or even defeat that damned Glen, then I could be reunited with Mother and Father! I could be free again!

Having reasoned this out, he immediately squeezed out a few tears, adopting a pitiful expression.

"Honorable Mage, I am the son of Lord Chanis! I was kidnapped and brought here as a slave by that vile commoner named Glen! He uses his strength to hold me hostage, extorting my family's wealth, and forces poor Tia to submit to his... his whims! And no matter how hard I work, he refuses to feed me! Please, Honorable Mage, you must save us! Waaah..."

Beside him, Tia's beautiful eyes widened in sheer astonishment at her young master's audacious lies.

"Is that so?" Dolph's gaze turned sharp, piercing through Ravel and making him squirm internally. "Yet I see mischief in your eyes. The look of a standard spoiled noble brat. I've seen it countless times."

Ravel felt as if his throat had been squeezed shut. He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out.

"Oh! Heavens!" Tia gasped, her eyes filled with shock and admiration. "Truly worthy of a Mage! You saw right through Young Master Ravel's flawless deception!"

Exposed, Ravel shot her a furious glare.

This brainless, stupid maid!

Realizing her slip, Tia hastily clapped a hand over her mouth, but the damage was done.

"Hahaha..." Dolph covered her mouth with a delicate hand, letting out a peal of melodious laughter. She pointed at Tia. "You truly are an adorable child. Perhaps I should consider taking you with me. Research might be far less tedious with you around."

Tia blushed crimson at being called adorable by the Mage, but the suggestion of being taken away made her wave her hands frantically in refusal.

"Honorable Mage, Madam entrusted me to care for the Young Master. I cannot go with you. I'm terribly sorry."

Seeing Tia actually refuse such an offer didn't move Ravel; instead, he thought her utterly foolish. Serving a Fourth-Rank Mage would grant her a status likely higher than his own father's! And she refused! If it were him, he'd cling to that opportunity with both hands. Who needed knighthood exams then? A life of respectability would be assured.

"Hmm..." Dolph showed no sign of annoyance at the refusal. She couldn't resist reaching out and gently booping Tia's nose. "Such an obedient, good child. I hope you manage to hold onto this purity."

Her tone shifted back to the authority of a high mage as she turned her attention once more to Ravel. "This seems like a matter of family feud between yours and Glen. I won't involve myself. Now, I must return to my carriage for some rest. This place... doesn't agree with me."

The 'he' she referred to was clearly Glen.

Tia and Ravel silently watched as Dolph walked out the door.

"Young Master, you should really get to work now," Tia urged sincerely. "Otherwise, you won't get anything to eat today either."

"Hmph!" Ravel mustered his remaining strength for a defiant snort. He then walked out the door and headed towards the edge of town.

...

At Mrs. Ryan's house.

Glen had just finished installing the new door. He turned to Mrs. Ryan, who had been handing him tools.

"That should do it. How does it look?"

She examined the neatly fitted wooden door, testing it herself. A satisfied smile appeared.

"Yes, I'm very pleased. Thank you for your hard work."

"It's my job. Hard work isn't really the word."

Glen gathered his tools scattered on the floor. He asked casually, "Did Constable Dougley return to the station? He shouldn't be recovered yet."

"Yes," Mrs. Ryan sighed, her expression one of exasperated fondness. "He insists there's no time for rest. I've pleaded with him countless times, but he's stubborn as a mule."

"Is it because of those people snatching children?"

"Indeed."

"Do they know where you live?" Glen placed his tool bag neatly in a corner. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why do you ask? They shouldn't know, I think." Mrs. Ryan looked puzzled.

"I see..." Glen murmured, walking towards the top of the stairs. His gaze fixed on the front door below.

Crunch.

The lock suddenly bulged outwards, then tore apart. Glen saw it clearly – the metal lock had been crushed by a single hand.

Creak.

The unlocked door slowly swung open.

A figure stepped inside. He wore a black felt hat and a long, worn leather trench coat.

"What in the world?" Mrs. Ryan, hearing the commotion below, hurried over. Seeing the intruder, her brow furrowed in anger. "Who are you?! This is trespassing! You are not welcome here! Get out!"

The man ignored the homeowner's outrage. He casually walked over to a nearby table, picked up a half-finished glass of water, and drained it. His voice was a low, grating rasp as he chuckled.

"Constable's wife. First time meeting. I won't bother introducing myself. Pointless, really."

He tilted his head back, allowing the two people on the stairs to see his face clearly. Sharp eyes, deeply set in shadowed sockets. A long, gaunt face. An aura of chilling menace radiated from him.

Mrs. Ryan was momentarily intimidated by his presence but refused to show fear. "I don't care who you are! But since you know my husband is the Constable, you know the penalty for threatening an officer's family! Get. Out. NOW!"

The man pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing one leg over his knee. He kept his unsettling gaze fixed on Mrs. Ryan, his smile widening slightly.

"Originally, the boss just wanted me to grab you. Your husband, while not much of a threat, is... capable. To avoid any hiccups in future plans, it's best to control him. Having you as leverage would be perfect."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to an oily whisper. "But now... Mrs. Ryan, your fiery spirit and... lovely features have rather captivated me. How about considering a future with me? That old constable can't possibly satisfy you. I'm stronger. I guarantee I could make you feel... blissful ecstasy."

His words grew increasingly vulgar. Mrs. Ryan trembled with a mixture of rage and rising terror. She couldn't believe criminals would actually dare target a constable's family. Where did they get such audacity?!

"Mrs. Ryan," Glen interjected calmly, stepping slightly in front of her. "No need to waste anger on a dead man walking. I'm actually quite capable in a fight. Your safety isn't a concern."

Mrs. Ryan looked at him doubtfully. "Truly? Child, don't try to be brave on my account. This isn't your fight. You should leave. He won't dare harm me."

"Quite capable?! Hahahaha!" The trench-coated man threw his head back in loud, mocking laughter before Glen could answer. "How capable? Beating up street thugs? Hahahaha!"

He laughed uproariously, even mimicking a street brawler's stance with exaggerated gestures.

"Rest assured, Mrs. Ryan," Glen continued, ignoring the derisive laughter below. "Scum like this? One hand is all I need."

Feeling utterly dismissed and disrespected, the trench-coated man's laughter died instantly. His expression hardened into something venomous. His eyes, cold as chips of obsidian, locked onto Glen.

"Originally," he hissed, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "I was just going to take your head off clean. A painless death. But you've changed my mind."

He slowly rose from the chair, the leather of his coat creaking ominously. "Now, I'm going to break every single bone in your body. One by one. Then, I'll carve out your liver. And finally..." He drew a long, wicked-looking knife from inside his coat, the blade catching the dim light. "...I'll pull out your heart. You'll watch it beat its last before the darkness takes you."