Chapter 151
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 151
“……”
“……”
Through the clear glass window, the eyes of the King and the wolf met.
Oscar strode toward the royal carriage, its dazzling ornamentation so ornate it hurt to look at. Not a trace of fear lingered in his steps as he approached the furious monarch. His expression, his gaze, his gait—nothing about him betrayed the slightest hint of fear, reverence, or the loyalty one ought to show a king.
The clamoring nobles froze as if on cue, staring blankly at Oscar.
Before his eyes, bloodstains that had yet to be wiped away seemed to shimmer. The metallic scent of blood clung to the air, refusing to fade.
The reception room, the office, and even the bedroom.
Someone had been attacked and dragged away. Oscar had followed the trail. The scent of blood had led him from the study into the hallway, where the trail abruptly ended.
“Brother!”
Sabine planted herself directly in Oscar’s path, blocking him as if he were about to storm the King himself.
“How can you do this? I don’t know why you’re so angry, but you must apologize to His Majesty! He’s furious—”
“Lady Jerome.”
Her informal protest, acceptable only between close siblings, was cut short by a call devoid of all warmth. Sabine’s mouth hung open for a moment before she bit her lip, hard.
Oscar looked down at the woman blocking his way. Staring into her violet eyes, a sight that sickened him, he spat out his words.
“You have no reason to call me ‘brother.’”
“B-brother…”
“And I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly from now on.”
“……”
“Move.”
His needle-sharp words pierced not only Sabine’s ears but also those of the watching nobles.
Oscar bypassed the speechless Sabine as if she were nothing more than an obstacle. Having suffered such a public humiliation, Sabine trembled with a rising sense of mortification.
“Oscar!” Charlotte called out angrily, but he didn’t spare her a single glance.
“Sabine.”
Behind him, he could hear Sabine von Jerome bursting into tears and her mother’s voice comforting her, but Oscar didn’t look back. He walked straight toward the King’s magnificent carriage without breaking stride.
The Royal Guards, in full dress uniform, stood around the carriage as straight as poplar trees. Directly in front of the door, the Captain of the Royal Guard, his military cap adorned with a black feather, glared at Oscar with a grim expression.
“You must not let the Marquis search the carriages, Your Majesty,” Peter whispered from beside the King. He desperately wrapped a deeply cut, bleeding hand in the hem of his coat, trying to shrink into himself to avoid Oscar’s notice. While Peter stole glances at Oscar, barely daring to breathe, Leopold crossed his arms and deliberately looked away.
“Captain! We are returning to the palace! Close the door!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
But Oscar’s hand shot out and grabbed the door before the Captain could close it.
“Marquis!”
“Have you seen my head maid?” Oscar asked, his voice as dry as ash.
“Close it!” Leopold roared. Spurred by the King’s anger, the Captain of the Royal Guard tried to force the door shut, but he couldn’t budge Oscar an inch.
“What is the meaning of this, Marquis Reinhardt?! Step back!”
“Have you seen the head maid of my manor?”
Oscar repeated the same question, his grip on the carriage door so tight it looked as if the wood might splinter.
“Captain! Are you just going to stand there and watch this insubordination?!”
At the King’s furious command, the Captain finally drew his rapier. In unison, the Royal Guards surrounding the carriage drew their own blades.
As the metallic sound of drawn steel filled the air, the tip of the Captain’s blade was leveled at Oscar’s throat.
“Oscar! Apologize to His Majesty and step back this instant!” Charlotte screamed, rushing over to tug at his arm.
But Oscar ignored her completely. He didn’t look at his mother clinging to his arm, nor did he budge as she pulled. He stood like a boulder, his eyes flashing with a fierce light. His gaze made it clear that neither the sharp blade at his throat nor the guards pointing their weapons at him were any threat at all.
Leopold, seeing that piercing stare—a look that said Oscar knew everything—shrieked in a frenzy.
“I said close it!”
The Captain sheathed his blade and shoved Oscar’s shoulder back with a thick hand. As he hurriedly slammed the carriage door shut, Leopold’s angry voice echoed from within.
“Tell them to open the manor’s iron gates immediately! I don’t wish to remain here for another second!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Saluting the carriage, the Captain immediately mounted his warhorse. The Royal Guards moved in perfect formation, lining the path to the gates and creating the illusion that this was the royal palace itself.
“W-well, we should also be…”
“Marchioness, we are leaving.”
The dazed nobles began to snap out of their stupor one by one. Most of them wanted to remain in the King’s good graces while also maintaining ties with Oscar. Terrified of getting caught in the crossfire, they anxiously boarded their carriages as if fleeing for their lives.
“It seems a proper goodbye is impossible today. I will return with Abigail later.”
The Dowager Lady was no exception.
Charlotte’s splendid party hadn’t just ended; it had been utterly ruined. The family, which had once seemed as perfect as the protagonists of a fairy tale, now lay shattered.
And at the center of the disaster was Oscar.
“Are you satisfied now that you’ve done this?”
Oscar, who had been glaring at the King’s retreating carriage, ruthlessly shook off his mother’s hand. Charlotte stumbled, and Dietrich, who was standing nearby, quickly caught her.
“Marquis Reinhardt!” Dietrich called out in anger, but Oscar ignored him as well.
He walked toward Simon, who was running out from the main entrance. Simon, who had shed his jacket at some point, approached and shook his head.
The Reinhardt Manor was vast, and they hadn’t searched everywhere. But Simon had pieced together the story from one of Barbara’s wolves, who had been attacked by the bastards and left on the verge of death. It seemed Barbara had been taken only a short while ago. Since Oscar had arrived not long after, their enemies must have been pressed for time.
Simon’s brilliant mind spun furiously. As he racked his brain, his gaze drifted toward the dense procession of carriages.
It looked as though the entire capital’s nobility had gathered, driven by curiosity about the party. The vast garden was so packed with carriages there was barely room to move, and the line to leave the manor was filled with influential figures. To make matters worse, the King’s Royal Guard lined the path, just as they would at the palace.
Dismay flickered in Simon’s red eyes.
“She must be in one of those.”
The moment he heard Barbara was gone, Oscar’s eyes had also settled on the sea of carriages. Unlike Simon, however, he didn’t see it as a setback. If she was in there, he would find her. No matter what it took.
“Deploy all Search Teams remaining in the capital. Mark every single carriage. If you find one that’s suspicious, search it by any means necessary. I don’t care whose it is.”
“Understood.”
“Time is of the essence. Track them the moment they leave the manor.”
At Oscar’s command, Simon moved immediately.
They had to find Barbara, and quickly. Even if she was dead, they needed her body to ensure there were no loose ends. But they hoped she was still alive.
No sooner had Simon left than Charlotte, supported by Dietrich, shook off his hand and strode toward Oscar.
“What was the meaning of that?”
“……”
“Shaking off my hand is one thing. But to humiliate your only sister in front of everyone, and to behave so disrespectfully toward His Majesty… Over a mere head maid?”
“…Sister?”
“I prepared all of this for you. And instead of gratefully accepting what your mother has given you…”
“For me?”
Oscar cut her off, his brow furrowing as if he couldn’t bear to listen anymore. He looked up at the dark sky, and thick veins bulged on his neck. His sharp Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down a rising surge of emotion.
Dark clouds swallowed the moonlight, plunging the grounds into deeper shadow. A damp wind blew, and then, as if on cue, raindrops began to fall. Glaring at the weeping sky, Oscar turned back to Charlotte.
“Since when did you ever care about me?”
“Marquis Reinhardt, I cannot listen to this any longer! How can you speak to your mother that way! Do you have any idea how much Charlotte—!”
Dietrich stepped forward, his face a mask of anger, but Oscar just let out a dry laugh. He ran a restless hand through his disheveled hair and addressed the man with chillingly clear pronunciation.
“Count Jerome.”
“……”