"Waa—!"
Dalton was jolted out of his thoughts by the sudden sound behind him. His body reacted faster than his mind—he spun around sharply, one hand already gripping the hilt of his sword.
Less than a meter behind him stood Karl, calm and silent, as if he had always been there.
Dalton froze.
His pupils contracted violently, his eyelids twitching several times before he slowly loosened his grip on the sword. A mixture of lingering fear and sincere admiration crept into his voice.
"Lord Karl… your—your stealth technique is… incredible. I didn't notice you approaching at all."
He took a breath and continued, still visibly shaken.
"I asked around the manor. Almost everyone says they haven't seen you since yesterday afternoon. It's like you vanished into thin air… and then suddenly appeared again."
Karl heard this and merely smiled faintly. He waved his hand dismissively.
"Who said I was sneaking around?" he replied casually. "I left the manor to handle some matters outside."
Then his tone sharpened slightly.
"Besides, even if I had slipped back in unnoticed, with the manor's current defenses, even a Witcher would find it difficult to break through—let alone me."
The smile faded from his face as he turned serious.
"Enough of that. You were looking for me in such a hurry—what happened?"
Dalton's expression immediately stiffened.
Instead of answering right away, he glanced around, carefully checking the surroundings. The servants nearby were busy with their tasks, and the guards were positioned far enough away that no one could overhear them.
Only after confirming this did Dalton step closer. He leaned toward Karl and lowered his voice to a near whisper, speaking rapidly.
At first, Karl still wore a relaxed expression, assuming it was merely a routine report about the estate or some minor issue.
But as Dalton continued, Karl's smile gradually vanished.
His brows knit together. His gaze sharpened, becoming cold and piercing.
When Dalton finished speaking, silence hung between them for a moment.
Then, slowly, the corner of Karl's mouth curled upward into a chilling smile.
"Heh."
Without another word, Karl turned and strode forward.
"Let's go," he said calmly. "We'll find Philip."
Dalton's heart tightened at that expression. He swallowed and nodded immediately.
"Yes, my lord!"
The two avoided the main paths, heading straight for the stables. They mounted the horses already prepared there and spurred them into motion, galloping directly toward the village.
After more than ten minutes of hard riding, the manor disappeared behind them.
They reached the edge of the village, where neat but clearly modest wooden houses stood clustered together. Compared to the grandeur of the manor, this place felt cramped and fragile.
This was Philip's current residence.
Before they could dismount and approach the house, a sharp, piercing scream suddenly burst from inside. The woman's voice was hysterical, venom-filled, and loud enough to pierce through the thin wooden walls.
"Philip! There's no place for me and Tamara in your heart at all!"
"You don't care about us—never have!"
"All you do is run around outside, shouting about loyalty to your lord! That's just an excuse!"
"You never stay home, never ask how we're doing! And you still dare to say you love us?! Lies! All lies!"
The scream was followed immediately by a furious roar, deep and hoarse, like a wounded beast struggling to restrain itself.
"Shut up, you filthy whore!"
Philip's voice shook with suppressed rage.
"I am Lord Karl's attendant! Loyalty to him is my duty and my honor!"
"When I earned little before, you complained day and night that I was useless!"
"Now that I follow my lord, my income has increased several times over. You eat well, you dress well—and you still dare say I don't care about you?!"
His breathing grew heavy, and his voice rose further.
"You damn woman! You even dared—dared to sneak around behind my back!"
"What do you take me for? A fool you can trample on whenever you please?!"
Dalton stopped in front of the door, his face filled with obvious embarrassment. He raised his hand hesitantly, intending to knock and warn them of their arrival.
But Karl had already lost his patience.
Just listening to Anna's shrill accusations made his blood pressure spike.
Without hesitation, Karl grabbed Dalton by the shoulder and pulled him aside. Then he lifted his foot.
"Bang!!!"
A deafening crash echoed through the house.
The flimsy wooden door—and even part of the frame—was kicked clean off its hinges, slamming violently into the interior wall.
The explosive noise instantly silenced the heated argument inside.
The room beyond was in complete chaos.
Tables and chairs lay overturned, some broken cleanly in half. Wooden fragments were scattered across the floor, clear evidence of a violent struggle.
A young woman stood near the center of the room.
She was dressed more finely than an ordinary villager, though her sharp facial features gave her an aggressive look. This was Anna.
One hand rested on her hip, the other was pointing angrily at Philip. Her face was twisted with fury, and she clearly intended to continue shouting—
Until she saw the destroyed door.
Her mouth fell open in shock as she stared at the two uninvited figures standing at the entrance.
Behind her, a little girl clutched desperately at her skirt.
Tamara hid behind her mother, small fingers gripping the fabric tightly. Her face was soaked with tears, her eyes wide with terror.
In the corner of the room, near a simple wooden bed, lay another man.
He wore nothing but torn underclothes, his body drenched in blood.
Several horrific sword wounds slashed across his chest and abdomen. Blood poured freely from them, pooling into a dark red puddle on the floor.
His breathing was barely perceptible. Each weak inhale seemed like it might be his last.
Philip stood in the center of the room.
His hand tightly gripped a steel sword, fresh blood still dripping from the blade. His chest heaved violently, his face twisted by uncontrollable rage.
When he saw Karl burst through the doorway, his fury instantly turned to shock.
"Ka—Lord Karl?!"
Dalton reacted immediately. The moment Karl kicked the door open and the scene inside became clear, he rushed forward. He grabbed the broken door panel and awkwardly propped it back against the entrance, blocking the view from outside to prevent villagers from witnessing the grisly scene.
Karl's expression was completely blank.
His icy gaze swept across the room methodically.
He gave Philip a slight nod, acknowledging his presence without speaking.
Then his eyes flicked briefly toward the dying man on the floor, noting the severity of the wounds.
Finally, like twin spears of frost, his gaze locked onto Anna.
Under that cold stare, Anna's body trembled.
She snapped out of her shock almost instantly. At that moment, she fully realized who the finely dressed young man before her must be.
This was the powerful duke her husband spoke of with reverence—Lord Karl.
Fear surged through her, but so did instinct.
She reacted quickly.
Anna suddenly crouched down, scooping Tamara into her arms as if clutching her last lifeline. In an instant, her furious expression transformed into one of pitiful grievance.
She hugged her daughter tightly and took a step toward Karl, as though seeking his protection.
But when she caught sight of Philip beside her—his sword still dripping with blood, his eyes burning with a terrifying, animalistic hunger—her legs weakened.
She dared not move any closer.
Her voice trembled as she began to cry.
"Lo—Lord Karl! You must help me!"
"Philip—Philip has gone mad! He tried to kill me! Please, you must save us—"
Before Anna could finish her sentence, Karl moved.
He seemed to flicker.
In the next instant, a sharp, resounding sound echoed through the room.
"Slap!!"
The crisp impact rang out clearly, cutting through Anna's sobs like a blade.
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