The Dragon's Thrall
The office after Lunelck Eins had departed.
Killian filled the crystal glass to the brim with strong liquor.
Glug, glug.
Along with the sound of the clear brown liquid pouring in, a man materialized.
“Your Excellency.”
It was Dupont Clancher, who had been concealed in the secret space adjacent to the office.
Killian answered his subordinate’s call with the slightest lift of one eyebrow.
“Why did you issue such an order, sir?”
Dupont, who had witnessed the entire scene from behind the device that perfectly masked his presence, was utterly bewildered.
During an eclipse, his lord committed every kind of eccentricity imaginable.
Dupont, who always handled the aftermath, had grown accustomed to the chaos.
There had been the time Killian stormed the imperial palace and pressed a blade to the throat of the puppet emperor—all because someone had tried to pair him with a princess from some kingdom.
Another time, he had personally delivered the head of a viscount who had repeatedly interfered with Knox business without knowing his place.
The viscount’s family, gathered for breakfast, had opened the “gift” box. Killian then declared the second son—the one universally regarded as the family’s biggest fool—as the new heir. Satisfied, he had strolled out through the viscount’s front gate.
Yet never once had those eccentricities been turned inward, toward Knox itself.
“If Lunelck Eins poses any threat to Knox, I will deal with him myself.”
“He is not a threat.”
“Then why…”
“The reason?”
Killian downed the liquor as if it were water and answered.
“You heard it. To test his usefulness.”
“But he…”
Dupont Clancher’s gaze drifted to the spot where Lunelck Eins had collapsed.
“He will die. This was never a mission that could succeed in the first place.”
“Do you think he doesn’t already know that?”
Killian’s lips curved upward as he recalled the eyes that had burned with rage at his command to uncover ‘the darkest secret.’
“Clean out the underground prison, Dupont.”
The fun had worn off.
The words sounded like a man tossing aside a toy he had grown tired of. Dupont quickly bowed his head to hide his expression.
Already… finished?
He had expected it to last several more days.
Killian was perfectly aware of Dupont’s rattled presence, yet he simply sank deeper into the chair by the window.
His golden eyes, fixed on the Knox mansion bathed in unusually bright moonlight, gradually grew calm once more.
Cold water sloshed over her, streaming down her black hair in heavy drops.
After leaving Killian Knox’s office, she had returned not to the infirmary but to her own quarters, locking the door behind her the moment she stepped inside.
Only after entering the bathroom, locking that door as well, and finally removing the necklace did she feel like she could breathe again.
“Killian Knox, you bastard.”
Even if she poured out every curse and obscenity in existence, the fury would not subside.
Staring into the mirror, she scrubbed viciously at her mouth where the blood he had forced down her throat still lingered.
Someday, when she made her escape, she would plant a knife in his side first.
She ground her teeth in a solemn vow, but a frustrated sigh escaped her anyway.
“Haah, damn it.”
What now?
“No matter where you are, I will be able to sense it. Even if you cross the sea to the western continent. As long as you draw breath, you cannot run from me.”
Dragon’s Thrall.
She had never dreamed that Killian Knox’s blood carried such power.
She lacked his ability to see through lies, yet she knew.
His words were true.
The blood that had glowed with an eerie golden light beneath the moonlight had healed every wound in her body the instant it slid down her throat.
So it was hardly surprising that it might also possess an unheard-of tracking ability.
“The effect is disgustingly efficient.”
She cursed again as she stared at her neck in the mirror—smooth, without a single mark.
Even the lingering aftereffects of the Varga poison had vanished completely.
Her body brimmed with vivid vitality, which only made her mood fouler.
Splash!
She hurled cold water at the innocent mirror in a fit of rage, but nothing changed.
Within the rivulets streaming down the glass, her own face stared back, even more twisted.
This was the price of letting her guard down.
The price of believing she had grown safe after infiltrating Knox.
Because of that delusion, Killian Knox had slipped a leash around her neck.
“No—it’s a snare.”
He had looped a noose around her throat and now intended to tighten it slowly until she died.
“Five days until the Day of Earth. Within that time, uncover Knox’s darkest secret.”
To order a mere low-ranking member of the action squad—who had never received formal training—to learn ‘Knox’s darkest secret.’
It was an absurd command.
A mission that presupposed failure from the start.
And if she failed, he would kill her.
It was nothing short of a death sentence.
“Huu.”
Wickers or not, the urge to bolt from the Knox mansion right then and there was crushed beneath a deep sigh.
The red eyes reflected in the mirror burned crimson.
She slowly raised a hand and raked her nails down her pale neck.
Where an invisible collar should have been, only red scratch marks remained.
“I can’t die like this.”
If there was a method to create a Dragon’s Thrall, then there had to be a way to sever that bond.
While carrying out the missions that bastard Killian Knox assigned her, she would search for a way to escape his pursuit.
After that, she would slip away right under his nose.
And if she could put a hole in his side before then, all the better.
“Knox’s darkest secret.”
First, she had to extend the five days of life she had left.
She collapsed onto the bed and fell into a sleep so deep it resembled unconsciousness. When she woke, the sun had already slipped beyond the western horizon.
Assigned to the night shift starting this week, she needed to report to the outpost.
“I didn’t realize I’d sleep that long.”
The knowledge that one of her precious five days had already mostly vanished sent a chill through her, but she quickly shook her head, casting the useless thoughts aside.
Until she uncovered that damned secret, proper sleep would be a luxury she could not afford.
Not physically. Not mentally.
So it was better that she had restored her strength while she still could.
“I really don’t want to go to work.”
Even as she muttered gloomily, the body that had spent a year working as Knox’s lowest laborer was already dutifully climbing out of bed.
She must have had a nightmare; her entire body was drenched in cold sweat. After a quick bath and retrieving her necklace, she was just barely on time.
She stopped by the cafeteria, grabbed two pieces of bread, and headed straight for the outpost.
“If you’re going to give me a mission like that, at least spare me the action squad duty. Damn Killian…”
Chewing the bread while savoring the sweet taste of cursing Killian Knox, she reached the outpost in no time.
She was nearly at the outer wall when it happened.
“Hey, kid! Rookie! What the hell happened to you yesterday!”
Heavy footsteps thundered from behind. A loud smack landed on her back—Senior Jake.
“Ow! That hurts, Senior!”
“Hurts, does it? You know it hurts? You little shit! You took Lord Gold’s guest into the main building and never came back. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
“How worried? Worried enough to go looking for me in the main building?”
She rubbed her stinging back and asked. Jake’s eyes slid away.
“Ah, well… I was too scared to actually go inside…”
“So you weren’t that worried after all.”
“Who in their right mind would snoop around the main building with those people inside? Anyway, you disappeared after entering, and then some lunatic tried to assassinate His Grace the Duke. I swear I lost ten years of my life yesterday!”
“The rumor’s already spreading?”
As expected, the more closed-off a group, the faster gossip traveled.
“Yeah. While you were in the main building yesterday, did you see or hear anything?”
Jake poked her side with his elbow as they walked toward the outpost.
“This senior has been eating at the Knox barracks cafeteria for twelve straight years, so my guess is that the rumor about an assassin isn’t completely groundless.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They say the infirmary was noisy yesterday afternoon. Some idiots were even whispering that maybe His Grace had been hurt. Shows how little they know. If anything had happened to the Duke, the direct family area behind the main building would have been the one in chaos. All the physicians would have rushed there. And this comes from my friend Hans who works in the underground prison…”
Jake glanced around the empty area for no reason, then lowered his voice.
“He didn’t say much, but the cleaners have been going in and out of the underground prison a lot lately.”