He was curious to find the answer to his numerous questions. His mind was filled with thoughts of every kind, questions rang through his head without a pause.
Why had his mother invited him here? To show him the warm new family of hers? To remind him of his father? To urge him to see his own father as the root of all his pain?
But… his mother didn't know. She couldn't know. Perhaps she wasn't aware that his father hadn't truly been a bad person from the very beginning. He had been made into a bad man.
Arthur had seen him too many nights, sitting alone, swirling amber liquid in a crystal glass. His eyes were always fixed on some place far beyond the room, unreachable and aching.
He was just as lonely as Arthur was, in this foreign world.
'I… I miss—!'
The fork slipped from his fingers, falling against the porcelain with a sharp, brittle clatter.
"Uh...!"
The silence that followed was immediate and complete.
He blinked, the weight in his chest pressing tighter.
"Ah, my apologies. I was distracted for a moment."
His mother remained composed, but her voice held a subtle lilt of concern.
"It's alright. Bring another fork for Arthur."
"Oh. There's no need for that. I've already finished my breakfast. I'll take my leave now."
She nodded slightly.
"Very well."
As he rose from his seat, he felt her gaze linger on his back. It was not the cold scrutiny he remembered. It was something searching… hesitant.
'Have I truly gone mad? To even think, for a moment, that I missed him...?'
As soon as Arthur stepped into the hall, his footsteps faltered at the sight of the Marquess.
The Marquess had not yet taken his leave. He stood there, composed as ever, a still figure amidst the silence, his presence as commanding as a blade sheathed in velvet.
He turned slightly at the sound of Arthur's approach, his eyes settling on him.
"Arthur..."
"Yes, Marquess?"
"Kindly tell your lackeys not to wander through my manor. It's… rather worrisome for me."
'It appears he has already noticed.'
Arthur offered a faint, practiced smile, dipping his chin in polite acknowledgment.
"I understand. I'll be sure to inform them."
The Marquess held his gaze a moment longer. Then, with a slight nod, he turned and walked away.
Arthur watched his retreating figure, standing motionless beneath the crystal glow of the chandelier.
'The first morning in Granville Manor has only just begun. And it's already proving to be exhausting.'
***
As soon as Arthur stepped into his room, the heavy door closed behind him with a low, resonant thud that echoed softly.
The morning light filtered in through the tall windows, casting a pale golden hue over the floors. The scent of toast and black tea still lingered faintly in the air, remnants of breakfast now long cleared away.
The atmosphere inside was steeped in a familiar stillness, broken only by the quiet tick of the mantel clock.
He exhaled, slow and measured, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders as he loosened the collar of his coat.
"Alfred."
At Arthur's call, he appeared almost instantly.
He was a man who moved like smoke. It was as if he had been waiting between the seconds, existing only in the hush between his words and the silence that followed them.
"Yes, young master."
He never questioned anything. He never asked how Arthur sensed his presence the moment he crossed the threshold.
Arthur sank into the leather armchair near the fireplace, its surface cool to the touch beneath his fingertips. The fire crackled behind its iron grate, casting a subtle warmth that reached just far enough to be comforting, never intrusive.
"What happened with the mark that you were supposed to investigate?"
"The scorpion mark on the pouch turned out to be an organization specializing in three categories: theft of information, assassination of high-ranking individuals, and disguising themselves in order to infiltrate certain places to collect specific types of information for their clients."
"What type of clients do they work for? And what are those areas of information they're collecting from?"
"They work for anyone as long as they're paid a hefty sum of money. As for the areas they're collecting the information from is none other than… the military."
"What?! The military...?"
"Yes, young master. While investigating, I noticed some disturbance inside restricted military areas. And it seems some type of classified information has been leaked or stolen. The military wants to hide that fact, but those in higher positions have already started to take notice of the situation. It's likely that the scorpion organization is behind it."
'If it's classified information, does it have anything to do with my father?'
Arthur remembered how the Royal Inspector had mentioned that perhaps his father had stolen information and intended to sell it to another nation.
"Hmm. It is suspicious indeed. Alfred, try to investigate what kind of information was taken from within the military walls."
"Yes, young master."
'Is it because of that classified information that everyone is after the letters I received from my father? Are they investigating me to see if I've been in contact with him?'
Arthur drummed his fingers lightly along the curved armrest.
"Hm. Anyway, any other progress?"
Alfred inclined his head, his eyes shadowed in the dim light.
"No significant breakthrough. However, as the young master suspected, the boy was indeed being followed by a man. He was most likely an assassin from the scorpion organization. Fortunately, our men neutralized the threat before he could make a move."
Arthur nodded slightly.
"Hmm… Keep a close watch on him. Ensure his safety until he's fully settled in town."
"Yes, young master."
"And the nobleman?"
"According to our findings, he is the third son of the Arundell family. A man with a reputation marred by gambling, drinking, and frequent visits to establishments of ill repute. However, he hasn't met with anyone we'd consider a likely orchestrator."
Arthur exhaled, the sound quiet, almost lost beneath the soft crackling of the fire.
"Which means it was likely his father who gave the order."
"That remains our most probable conclusion. Still, there is a chance someone else is pulling the strings from behind the curtain."
"Of course there is. His kind of man rarely acts alone."
Arthur leaned back, the leather sighing beneath his weight.
"Did you look into his allocated budget?"
Alfred gave a small nod.
"Yes. By noble standards, it was modest, though far from meager. He doesn't appear to spend frivolously. On the contrary, he's surprisingly cautious."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Arthur's lips.
"Then he's keeping another ledger."
"Shall I retrieve it myself, young master?"
Arthur waved a hand lazily through the air.
"No need to do everything yourself. Assign someone else."
"Yes, understood."
After a moment of silence, Arthur shifted slightly.
"Now, tell me, how is Ralph's training progressing?"
Alfred's lips curved the slightest degree, a rare flicker of amusement surfacing.
"It's going well, but he's growing impatient with the passing time."
Arthur sighed, unsurprised.
"Haa… That didn't take him long, huh."
"Mr. Richard is keeping him in line, at least for now. It doesn't seem like he'll act recklessly in the immediate future."
Arthur rested his chin against his knuckles as he murmured slowly.
"Still… his patience is thinner than I expected it would be."
"And his brother? Have you found any trace of him yet?"
Alfred's expression darkened slightly.
"Not yet. Our men are still busy with the search."
Arthur nodded, letting his gaze drift to the edge of the desk where a half-burned candle stood.
"Hm. Continue to search. Spare no resource."
"Yes, young master."
He straightened a little, his voice taking on a colder edge.
"What about Princess Ophelia?"
"A man has been assigned to her, as per your instructions."
"Good. If anyone attempts to harm her, deal with them immediately. I'll handle the consequences."
"I understand."
After a brief pause, Arthur spoke again.
"However, if she tries to harm herself… stop her. At any cost."
Alfred's eyes flickered.
"It will be done just as the young master wishes."
Arthur reached for the letter that lay upon his desk, already sealed. He held it out to him.
"Deliver this to my grandfather."
He accepted it wordlessly.
Arthur rose from his seat slowly.
"And from now on, report through the messenger bird. The Marquess is beginning to grow uneasy with our men gathering in his manor."
Alfred bowed slightly, the letter vanishing into the folds of his coat as though it had never existed.
"Understood."
Just as he was about to leave, a sudden knock broke the stillness of the room.
Arthur raised a brow.
'Hmm…? Who could it be? Ah. Perhaps it's Julia, here to deliver a message from Grandfather, or news from him that she was told to pass along?'
"Come in."
The door opened with a slow creak, letting in a sliver of light from the corridor.
Arthur looked at the figure, fully expecting Julia's familiar silhouette.
But it wasn't her. It was his mother.
He blinked once, surprise evident on his face.
He straightened instinctively, the chair beneath him creaking as he adjusted. The casual thoughts he'd been entertaining folded themselves neatly away.
"Mother, what brings you here?"