(3rd Person POV)
Jacy Heart and Old Kan slowly stirred awake, their groans echoing in the dim, candlelit room. The flickering light danced off stone walls—damp, cold, unfamiliar. Both men quickly realized they were bound with heavy cuffs and chains.
"Ugh... what the hell?" Jacy groaned, tugging at the restraints. "Where are we?"
Old Kan scanned the room grimly, his voice low and controlled. "It seems the ones who took us decided to keep us here, Master Jacy. We're prisoners."
Jacy's face twisted in fury. "Prisoners?! They dared lay hands on me? Me! A rightful heir of the Heart family? Do they have a death wish?!"
Old Kan's expression darkened too. His hands clenched into fists. "This is beyond an insult."
A calm voice suddenly echoed from the shadows, interrupting their outrage.
"Anger won't help you now. Your name, your status… it means nothing to the people who put you here. Even if you were the crown prince himself."
Jacy and Old Kan snapped their heads toward the sound.
A man stood near the far wall, barely illuminated by candlelight. He wore a black trench coat, and the lower half of his mask was broken—revealing an ordinary, unremarkable face.
"You—who are you?" Old Kan asked cautiously.
The man chuckled, his voice soft and tired. "So neither of you recognize me?"
Jacy scowled. "We don't have time for riddles. Say your name."
A hollow, bitter laugh escaped the man's lips—sharp and dry. It sent a chill through the air.
After a few seconds, he spoke. "I was the one who negotiated with you. The voice that promised Arthur's capture."
The realization hit them like a slap.
Old Kan's eyes widened. "You… you're that voice from the transmission!"
Jacy stared, stunned. "Wait… that was you?"
The man—now fully visible—nodded with a weary smirk. "I didn't bother to change my voice back then. I wanted you to remember it. I'm honestly surprised you didn't."
The pieces clicked into place. Old Kan's expression turned grim. "Then it really is you… One of the Great Knights of Wales. The one they call—Trench Coat."
A heavy silence settled.
Jacy finally asked, voice cracking, "But… what are you doing here? Why would someone like you be imprisoned with us?"
Trench Coat burst out laughing—louder, harsher than before. His voice echoed off the stone walls like a madman's confession.
"Isn't it obvious?" he sneered. "We failed. The plan to capture Arthur collapsed—and we paid the price. One of us… one of the Great Knights is already dead."
The laughter faded into a somber stillness.
The flames danced across his face as he stepped closer, dragging his chains with him.
"I'll tell you everything. How we failed. How Arthur turned the game around. And how we walked straight into our own doom."
Jacy and Old Kan sat in stunned silence, their eyes locked onto the fallen Knight.
And then—he began to recount everything.
And as he did, horror crept into their eyes, layer by layer, candle by candle.
After hearing the full story, Jacy Heart and Old Kan trembled—not just in fear, but in disbelief.
Never in their wildest dreams could they have imagined it.
The man they mocked as a "mere filmmaker"… turned out to be a monster cloaked in charm.
A storm hiding behind a smile.
But alongside their fear, a new emotion began to rise—fury.
Jacy's expression contorted as he glared at Trench Coat. "Don't tell me… you're the one who told them it was us!? That we ordered the hit!?"
"We weren't the only ones involved!" Old Kan barked, his voice shaking. "We were just one of many—others also wanted Arthur captured! Why pin it on us?!"
Trench Coat gave a cold, hollow laugh. "Relax. I didn't say a word."
"Don't lie to us!" Jacy snapped, eyes blazing. "You're just trying to cover your own failure!"
But Trench Coat's tone turned icy—firm and final.
"I'm telling the truth," he said, his voice low and unwavering. "I never mentioned your names. I don't even know how they found out."
Jacy and Old Kan fell silent, their anger momentarily displaced by dread.
"…Then how did they know?" Old Kan muttered.
Trench Coat leaned back, resting his head against the cold wall. "Who knows? Maybe they have eyes everywhere. Maybe they've known all along. Or maybe…" He looked up at the flickering candlelight. "Maybe Arthur's not someone you can scheme against."
They had no choice but to believe him.
But then—Old Kan's expression shifted. His face went pale, trembling as a horrible realization struck.
"Old Kan?" Jacy noticed immediately, concern flickering in his eyes. "What's wrong?"
Old Kan swallowed hard, his voice cracking. "M-Master… do you remember… when we discussed what to do with Arthur…?"
Jacy blinked, then his stomach dropped. "Yeah… so?"
Old Kan looked up, panicked. "We—we talked about it over the Hellphone."
A beat of silence.
Jacy's eyes widened in absolute horror. "No… no, no, no. Don't tell me…" His voice dropped. "That little thing… that Hellphone… it was like we were wiretapped!?"
Trench Coat burst into another bitter, almost crazed laugh. "Now you get it."
But before they could question further, the door creaked open—and a figure stepped inside.
He wore a flowing white robe with golden embroidery. Sacred symbols shimmered faintly beneath the candlelight.
Trench Coat's face twisted in recognition. "That robe… it can't be. A Champion of Solarus!?"
The man smiled calmly. "Ah. I see the title still carries weight."
"You… You're one of them?" Trench Coat's voice was filled with disbelief. "Don't tell me Arthur's connected to the Solarus Faith!?"
The man chuckled and raised a finger. "Not quite," he said coolly. "And I have no interest in explaining the details."
He took another step forward, voice growing firmer. "But I will say this—you've shown extraordinary nerve by targeting the lord's chosen 'lamb'."
From the corner of the room, Red Coat stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and upon seeing the white-robed man, he stiffened. "…Lance… Ashford…"
The man gave him a faint smile. "Ah. So even the proud sniper knows my name. I'm flattered."
Jacy and Old Kan looked between them, confusion and fear rising in equal measure.
Lance's expression turned serious. "You've sinned. All of you. And now, redemption will not come through prayer…"
He tilted his head, smiling faintly.
"…Only through obedience."
He let those words hang in the air, then added—
"You will fulfill the demands of Mr. Pendragon. Or you will never see daylight again."
---
Meanwhile, inside a private chamber within Hellfire Park, Arthur lounged in his chair, legs crossed, the dim light casting a warm glow across his face.
Across from him stood Sylwen—her silver hair cascading freely, her face uncannily identical to Firfel's. Today, she wasn't wearing her usual disguise.
"Boss…" she hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you really going to make me do this?" Her eyes lowered. "Do I really have to face… that punishment?"
Arthur lazily cleaned his ear with a pinky, looking utterly uninterested. "Yes. You're going to meet her."
Sylwen looked conflicted. "But… is this really necessary? I failed once. I let the Great Knights sneak past me. But to make me face her—"
Arthur cut in, grinning. "That's exactly why. You asked for punishment, didn't you? Well, here it is."
He leaned forward slightly, smirking. "And let's be real—it's not even a punishment. It's just a reunion. You're going to see your little sister. The one who's been looking for you her whole life." His tone turned softer, teasing. "What's so terrifying about that?"
Sylwen trembled. "I'm… not ready," she murmured. "I don't want to see her. Not yet."
Arthur's smile faded, and his voice dropped. "Then when? Fifty years from now? A century?"
Sylwen fell silent.
Arthur sighed, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "Firfel's been waiting. She talks about you like you're the one bright thing missing in her world."
Truthfully, he'd taken this chance to grant Firfel one of her deepest wishes—reuniting with the sister who disappeared when she was just a kid.
"What if…" Sylwen began again, her voice tight. "What if my old organization finds out I've reconnected with Firfel? What if I bring danger to her life?"
Arthur waved a dismissive hand. "Enough with the paranoia. You know damn well that Hellsing could wipe out your 'old organization' without even breaking a sweat."
Sylwen clenched her fists, lips trembling—but said nothing.
Just then, she froze. Her senses flared.
From the other side of the corridor, she could feel it—a familiar presence drawing near. Her mind's eye confirmed it.
She turned her gaze slightly toward the door. "She's coming…"
Arthur smiled, resting his chin on his hand. "Good. It's about time."