HBTF 5

Chapter: 5

Misunderstanding

“What did I do wrong to end up in prison?”

Merran, who had been taking care of Classie and had just stepped down the stairs for a moment, was startled to see the unexpected arrival of a palace guard.

“It’s not a prison, but the guardhouse,” the guard replied in a curt voice. While he said it wasn’t prison, his expression and demeanor made it seem like they were dragging her to one.

“What’s the difference! Everyone knows there’s a temporary prison in the guardhouse! And why on earth are you summoning my lady to the guardhouse out of nowhere? What did she do wrong?”

Anna, the maid, protested, shielding Merran with her body.

“That will be revealed in due time,” the soldier responded coldly once again.

Merran calmly asked, “Will I have time to prepare?”

Thankfully, the guard allowed her to get properly dressed.

Back in her room, Anna assisted Merran with her outing attire and asked, “Should I wake Miss Classie?”

“No need. Her fever hasn’t subsided yet,” Merran replied as she buttoned up her round buttons, recalling last night’s party. She had teased Classie a little, but it wasn’t to the point of causing any legal trouble.

The party had been peaceful and enjoyable for everyone—except for one person.

“Could it be Florence? Did she frame me?”

Merran grew uneasy as she remembered Florence glaring at her as if she wanted her dead.

Florence had disliked Merran ever since she was eleven years old, despite claiming to be Merran’s aunt’s closest friend.

Anna, as she draped an adorable fur cloak over Merran’s shoulders, objected, “That can’t be. Miss Florence is as upright as they come—almost rigidly so.”

“An upright person bullies someone much younger than them? She hurled cruel words at me even when I was eleven.”

“She might’ve said some harsh things, but Miss Florence was only sixteen back then. She probably did it out of concern for Miss Classie.”

“What difference does that make? She’s my aunt’s friend. That makes me like a niece to her.”

Anna barely held back the words, ‘Miss Florence’s younger sibling is even younger than you.’

Though Anna had a favorable impression of Florence, her loyalties lay with Classie and Merran, not Florence. She couldn’t side with Florence at the expense of offending Merran.

“Shall I accompany you?” Anna asked worriedly, handing Merran her hat.

Merran scrutinized her reflection in the large half-length mirror, turning this way and that.

Perfect.

“No, it’s fine,” Merran replied, flashing a confident smile as she left the room.

With confidence, courage, and wisdom, she believed she could resolve whatever misunderstanding had arisen with ease.

* * *

About 15 minutes after Merran strode into the guardhouse, brimming with determination, a report reached Kishin.

Stopping his work, Kishin left his office to meet her.

But someone else had reached Merran before him, cutting in line. It was Dernick.

Furthermore, this interruption was clearly intentional.

Dernick had coordinated with the peculiar woman pulling weapons out of her handbag to ensure that Kishin wouldn’t lose his temper—especially not at him.

Standing in front of the small interrogation room, Dernick quickly glanced around and knocked on the door.

“Yes.”

As soon as a woman’s voice responded, Dernick swiftly entered the room.

The lighting inside wasn’t particularly bright, so Dernick couldn’t immediately see the woman’s face.

But trusting that Kishin had brought the right person, Dernick sat down across from her without hesitation.

“Hey, let’s coordinate our stories—”

He began to speak, but froze mid-sentence as he finally took a good look at the woman’s face.

Merran didn’t find his reaction unusual. She was used to men becoming dazed when they saw her.

Of course… none of those men had ever been as strikingly handsome as this one.

Merran, who had come brimming with charisma to clear up any misunderstandings, found herself slightly pleased. The man sitting before her, now revealed to be the investigator, was not only extraordinarily good-looking but also appeared utterly captivated by her.

Resolving this misunderstanding seemed like it would be a breeze. After all, wasn’t he practically signaling, I’ve fallen for you at first sight?

“Sister Mary?”

But instead of expressing awe over her, the silver-haired man muttered her mother’s name, leaving Merran equally startled.

“You know my mother?”

The name “Mary” wasn’t particularly uncommon, but Merran was certain this man was referring to her mother. She knew she bore a striking resemblance to her. Anyone who had known her mother would always be taken aback upon meeting her for the first time.

“Mary Kalashi Omel. My goodness, are you her daughter?”

As expected, he recited her mother’s full name precisely. What followed, however, was baffling.

Merran flinched. How old is this man?

He appeared to be around her age, yet he spoke as if he were an elder relative reunited with her after many years.

As the silver-haired man clasped his hands together with a look of admiration, Merran instinctively leaned back, thinking he was a bit strange.

Then, unexpectedly, tears welled up in the man’s large eyes.

“W-Why are you crying?”

Merran asked in alarm, but the silver-haired man merely gave a faint smile.

“Your mother is my savior. Has she never mentioned me?”

“A savior? My mother?”

“Yes. Ten years ago—”

But just as Merran’s curiosity was about to be satisfied—

“Out.”

The door opened about a third of the way, and a cool, commanding voice interrupted.

Merran assumed the command was directed at her and sprang to her feet.

“No, he’s talking to me.”

The silver-haired man gestured for Merran to sit back down and stepped out himself.

When the door closed again, Merran was left thoroughly bewildered. What is going on here?

“……”

After hesitating for a moment, Merran cautiously pressed her ear to the door.

* * *

But her attempt was futile. As soon as Kishin pulled Dernick out of the room, he led him far away from the interrogation area, ensuring the woman inside wouldn’t overhear their conversation.

“What exactly is going on here?”

Kishin asked, suppressing the urge to grab Dernick by the collar.

His friend was a troublemaker but alarmingly nimble. Even the elite guards hadn’t noticed Dernick sneaking into the interrogation room.

“I distinctly remember saying I would find my ID myself.”

“Well, well. Is now really the time to be angry? Instead of thanking me, you’re throwing a tantrum.”

To Kishin’s dismay, Dernick didn’t shrink back but instead squared his shoulders even more.

A frown deepened on Kishin’s normally smooth forehead. He reached out to touch Dernick’s forehead, noticing traces of dried tears near his eyes.

“You’ve finally lost it. How am I supposed to explain this to His Grace?”

Kishin lamented, but instead of being afraid, Dernick pushed his arm away with a laugh.

“I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I feel fantastic right now.”

“Must be the aftereffects of dark magic…”

“You’ve got the wrong person.”

Dernick omitted the unspoken thought: And I’ve found exactly the right person.

In truth, Dernick’s intentions weren’t entirely genuine. He had only sought revenge for Lady Mary, not to find her daughter.

But upon seeing the striking resemblance to his benefactor, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of affection. He now wanted to forge a connection with Lady Mary’s daughter.

As Dernick’s lips twitched into a small smile, Kishin frowned even more, visibly displeased.

“What do you mean, the wrong person? Explain yourself.”

“The hair color is completely different.”

“Hair color?”

“Yes. Lady Merran is blonde. That handbag weapon dealer had much darker hair.”

“…”

When Kishin reached for his blade, Dernick jumped back in alarm.

“Why are you taking it out on me when you’re the one who brought the wrong person?”

“If you knew about the hair color, couldn’t you have mentioned it earlier?”

The elation Dernick had felt upon meeting Merran vanished almost instantly.

Kishin wasn’t done; he summoned Phils and scolded him further. The main point of contention was why Phils had brought someone completely unrelated into the interrogation room.

Kishin was convinced Phils had botched the investigation, missing the real suspect. Phils, however, defended himself indignantly.

“Sir Kishin, I assure you, the only woman who matched the three criteria you provided was Merran Omel.”

Dernick interjected.

“What were the three criteria?”

Phils shot Dernick a frosty glance before responding curtly.

“The three criteria you mentioned to Sir Kishin: a noblewoman who attended the Laveberton family’s party on November 30th, aged between her early and mid-twenties, and someone who traveled along Balowal Road in a carriage between 10 and 11 PM.”

Having found the daughter of his benefactor, Dernick eagerly involved himself in the investigation.

“The Marquisate of Omel has three daughters, doesn’t it? Are you sure you verified them properly?”

“The address I investigated was No. 12 Hod Street, which wasn’t the Omel family residence, Sir Dernick. It was her aunt’s house. Merran Omel is living with her aunt. But if it’s Merran Omel’s aunt, her age doesn’t match the description at all.”

Dernick asked innocently.

“Well, maybe the handbag weapon dealer just has a youthful face?”

“But that aunt wasn’t even on Balowal Road at the time,” Phils countered.

“Then—”

Before they could continue, Kishin, now thoroughly fed up, cut them both off.

“Enough. I’ll personally confirm every house along Balowal Road. That will be faster.”

Phils sulked as he asked, “What should we do about Lady Merran, then?”

Dernick quickly volunteered.

“I’ll escort her home.”

But Kishin, determined not to let the investigation spiral further, grabbed Dernick’s arm.

“No. You’re coming with me.”

“Why?” Dernick protested, reluctant. He had hoped to escort Merran and learn more about Lady Mary from her. But the murderous look in Kishin’s eyes silenced him.

“You need to identify the suspect.”

“Then let’s start with No. 12 Hod Street. While we’re there, we can escort Lady Merran back and apologize for the mistake. How about that?” Dernick proposed hopefully.

But Kishin wasn’t swayed.

“Fine, we’ll start with No. 12 Hod Street. Phils, make sure Merran Omel doesn’t leave here for the next two hours.”