IWMHWD 58

<Chapter 58> The Daughter of Her Father
December 28, 2023

“Yes? Vasquez? Ah, yes.”

The innkeeper, realizing belatedly who Leonard was referring to, stepped forward.

“He’s staying in the room at the end of the second floor. We gave him our best room.”

“What a pointless gesture.”

“Pardon?”

The innkeeper blinked, not understanding. Baron gestured quietly for him to leave. Recognizing the signal, the innkeeper quickly vanished.

Leonard stood in front of the door, then suddenly flung it open without warning.

“Ugh, who is it?”

Though it was broad daylight, the stench of alcohol was overwhelming. Baron instinctively covered his nose with his sleeve. Countless empty liquor bottles littered the room.

“Atilay?”

“That’s right. I came because I heard you were finally ready to talk, but you look like a wreck.”

“Grrk. If you have something to say, say it.”

“If you say you don’t remember because of the alcohol, we can’t have a proper conversation. So let’s talk while you’re sober.”

“I’m completely sober. Say what you need to say. You said you had something to tell me.”

Ignoring his drunken blabbering, Leonard gestured toward the drunkard Vasquez with his chin.

Baron understood his master’s intention and stepped forward. He summoned water above the man’s head and dumped it on him.

“Pfhh—what the hell are you doing?!”

“Don’t come near me. You stink.”

“What kind of stunt is this?! A water dump out of nowhere?!”

“You sober now?”

“What?”

“If you are, sit down.”

Baron fetched the two cleanest chairs in the room—one for Leonard, and the other he placed in front of Vasquez.

Vasquez roughly shook his wet hair. Water dripped from his soaked clothes and puddled on the floor. His eyes looked clearer now, proof that he was sobering up.

He glared at Leonard and the chair with all his might.

“Are you deaf? I told you to sit.”

“You begged me to meet with you, and now you treat me like this? You think I’ll just do what you say?”

“Should I summon fire instead of water next time?”

Leonard’s calm tone somehow conveyed genuine intent. Vasquez grumbled, then quietly sat down.

“So. The money I sent you…”

Leonard glanced around the room and sneered.

“Looks like you spent it all on booze.”

“If you have something to say, say it and leave. I don’t enjoy seeing your face either.”

“Excellent idea, Vasquez. I also want to get out of this filthy dump as soon as possible.”

He pulled a checkbook and pen from his coat and looked at Vasquez.

“Do you have a favorite number?”

“What?”

“Just say one. Any number.”

“T-Three? No—nine!”

Seeing the checkbook, Vasquez’s eyes gleamed with greed. Leonard wrote something based on his response and tore out a check.

“How’s this? Do you like it?”

Vasquez snatched the check like a hawk. His face lit up when he read the amount.

He had expected maybe 3,000 or 9,000 Linkits at most—but it read 39,000 Linkits. That was enough to buy a fine carriage.

“Well, hmm, hmm…”

“I don’t care why you came to the capital. Just listen to my demand, Vasquez.”

“What is it? Say it. I’ll help however I can.”

Flush with cash, Vasquez spoke generously, already forgetting the water incident.

“Don’t ever approach Cordelia again.”

“She’s my daughter. Who are you to tell me what—ACK! My money!”

Before he could finish, the check in his hand burst into flames. Startled, Vasquez threw it onto the wet floor to douse it, but it burned to ashes.

Leonard crossed his legs.

“Seems like you misunderstood. I’m not here to negotiate or make deals with you. That money was merely payment—if you did as I asked.”

“A demand? You think it’s reasonable to tell me not to see my daughter?”

“Your daughter? You sold her to Abrams for 500,000 Linkits without even a dowry. I don’t think someone like you has the right to call her that.”

“Sending off a daughter in marriage is a father’s right!”

He yelled, pointing a finger at Leonard.

From his filthy clothes and heavy stench of alcohol, nothing about him inspired belief that he was truly Cordelia’s father.

Yes. Cordelia’s father.

That’s the only reason Leonard had endured up until now.

“How much will it take for you to give it up?”

“Give what up?”

“That damned ‘father’s right.’”

Vasquez’s eyes wavered. He had just seen Leonard burn 39,000 Linkits like they were worthless.

Leonard smirked, realizing Vasquez wasn’t hesitating over whether to give up—but about what price to name.

After calculating in his head for a while, Vasquez spoke.

“I got 500,000 Linkits when I sent her to Abrams, so I should get at least 1 million from Atilay.”

“One million?”

Leonard stared at him. When there was no immediate reply, Vasquez began to regret quoting such a high number.

But to his surprise, Leonard made an even more generous offer.

“How about this? I’ll send you 50,000 Linkits every month.”

“F-Fifty thousand?! Every month?”

That was 600,000 a year—more than enough to live in luxury. Vasquez, having quickly done the math, couldn’t hide the twitching corners of his mouth.

“Right. But in exchange, don’t ever show up in front of Cordelia pretending to be her father. No letters. No messengers. No contact at all.”

“Of course!”

Vasquez gave up his paternal rights far too easily. His eyes were glued to the checkbook on the table. Even Baron looked dumbfounded by how blatant he was.

“If I had known you cared so much for her, I’d have married her off to Atilay instead of Abrams.”

“Don’t be disgusting. That girl is my disciple.”

“Whether she’s your disciple or your lover—do as you like.”

Leonard glared coldly at Vasquez, who just licked his lips and kept his eyes on the checkbook.

“So can we start today? I’d like to get that money right away…”

“Of course.”

Leonard wrote 50,000 Linkits on a check, signed it, and handed it to him.

Vasquez beamed as he examined it. Then, suddenly, a thought made him uneasy. He looked at Leonard.

“Shouldn’t we write up a contract or something for this?”

“What for? If I don’t send the money every month, you can see your daughter all you want. But if you break your promise and approach Cordelia—I’ll just kill you.”

“…”

The price of breaking the agreement was harsher than expected. Vasquez turned pale.

He recalled the recent rumors about Atilay—that Leonard had stripped his own younger brother of his magical power and carried it around in a box…

“T-There was no mention of that!”

Vasquez stammered and shouted. Leonard stood, straightening his clothes. Any longer in this dump and the stench of alcohol would cling to him.

“What, are you scared now? As long as you keep your promise, you’ll live a long, uneventful life.”

“T-That’s…”

“Oh, I nearly forgot.”

Just as he was about to leave, Leonard turned back, as if something occurred to him.

“Stick out your foot.”

“My foot?”

“No, the right one.”

Though confused, Vasquez obediently extended his right foot. Leonard strode over and tripped him.

“What are you—AAAGH!”

A loud crack echoed as his ankle shattered. It twisted into an unnatural shape, blood quickly soaking the wooden floor.

Baron turned his head, pretending not to see the gruesome scene.

Leonard pulled out another check, scribbled 39,000 Linkits, and threw it at Vasquez.

“That’s for your ankle.”

“Y-You, ugh!”

“Let’s hope you’re a man who keeps his promises, Vasquez. Because if you don’t—next time, it’ll be your neck.”

Vasquez writhed in pain, his body convulsing. Leonard turned his back and left without a second glance.

Baron followed his master in silence. Only after climbing into the carriage did he speak.

“Fifty thousand a month… isn’t that a bit much?”

“If I can get rid of garbage for that little, it’s a bargain. Better to pay monthly and keep him in check than give a lump sum and have him come crawling back.”

“But what if Lady Cordelia finds out…”

“How would she? Vasquez will never come near her again, and unless you or I say anything, she’ll never know.”

Leonard leaned back and closed his eyes, signaling he was done with the conversation.

Baron realized just how deeply Leonard’s attention, affection—or even obsession—for Cordelia ran.

What troubled him more was that Leonard seemed utterly unaware of what he truly felt for her.

“How’s the Embley investigation going?”

“We’ve been questioning Embley’s staff, but they’re tight-lipped. However, there’s one odd thing.”

“What is it?”

“Rosalyn Embley.”

“The Elector’s daughter? Why?”

“I’ve watched their townhouse for nearly ten days, and not once has she stepped outside. She’s unmarried and it’s the social season.”

“She might be ill. I heard she’s had heart issues since birth.”

“That’s possible… but even just mentioning her name makes the staff react strangely. Like we’re uncovering some deep shame.”

“Hmm.”

Leonard rubbed his chin. Something was bothering him, but it was like trying to see through fog—unclear and elusive.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing of note. I’ll dig into their ancestral estate next.”

“Do that. Oh—what time is it?”

“Ah.”

Baron realized Leonard wasn’t asking for the current time—but how much time was left in the three hours he had promised Cordelia.