Chapter 63: Trishel and the Missing Person

She left the room—and never came back.

Charlotte might be a little scatterbrained, but she’s not stupid. With Salem keeping such a close watch, she would never recklessly wander into town.

That’s why I thought she’d be back soon. I convinced myself of that.

If I chased after her, I’d only make her feel cornered. So I hesitated to follow.

In short—it was a mistake.

She vanished.

When I asked the clan members, they said they saw her pass by, but no one realized she had actually left the clan house.

So I searched every corner of the clan house, but she was nowhere to be found. That left only one possibility. She had gone. Slipping away without anyone noticing—shouldering everything alone.

I think it through.

If I run after her now, I might catch up. But if I leave the clan house in a rush, that’s no different from telling Salem that Charlotte has fled. Who will find her first—me, or Salem’s underlings? Obviously the latter.

I know Charlotte’s ability to survive. I’m not worried about her just dropping dead somewhere.

She doesn’t realize it, but there are plenty of people in this town who would side with her. Alone, she’d naturally be more cautious of her surroundings, and that lowers the risk of making a fatal mistake.

Besides—when she trusts no one, that’s when she can cut people off without mercy.

I failed.

The regret gnaws at me so deeply I don’t even know what to call this feeling anymore.

Why didn’t I just go with her then? I should have put her safety above her emotions. I misjudged my priorities. Fool.

"I'm not worried. There's no need to be. She’s much better at maneuvering than people give her credit for."

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to keep living peacefully in this town while constantly doing things that draw frowns.

From the moment she arrived here—or even judging from before she came—the pattern is clear. The less she has to lean on, the sharper and more efficient her actions become. She crushes her own feelings and sees only her objective. That’s why I don’t need to worry.

…Enough. I need to switch gears.

"If she’s gone, then I need to focus on what comes next. The thing I should be doing is…"

Don’t get it twisted. Mistakes happen. What matters is choosing the best move after the mistake.

Don’t get it twisted. The real failure is letting one mistake rattle you, and then compounding it with more.

Don’t forget your role.

I exhale slowly. Panic spreads to others. I steady my breathing so I can act as if nothing’s wrong.

With my excuse gone, the thing I need to avoid most now is direct contact with Salem.

Especially since our goals overlap—we both want to find Charlotte. As a member of Blue, if I’m ordered to help until she’s found, I can’t refuse.

I can’t recklessly step outside. I should focus on what can be done indoors.

Should I talk to the clan members? I told them Charlotte and Reven would be staying here, but if she’s already gone, suspicion will only grow.

…No, low priority. That can wait.

What I need to do first—

"Hey! Trishel!"

From the upstairs hall, he approaches.

Even though his eyes and ears shouldn’t work, he walks so naturally it makes you think nothing’s wrong at all.

…Yeah, he’s not normal either.

"Where did she go?"

I scratch my head, messing up my hair, but who cares.

It’s just trouble. That’s all it is.

Because Reven openly declared Charlotte was gone, I had no choice but to tell the others we’d explain later. I just hope none of them leak it outside… but this takes priority.

I lead him back to the room.

On the way, I could feel the stares around us drilling into me. But I had no time to deal with that. I told them I’d explain later, so later it will be.

I seat him in a chair, then drag over another chair to sit beside him.

"So. Where did she go?"

"She left."

I hesitate for a moment—hide it or not? But no. Better not to.

Even if I hid it, he’d find out soon enough. Better to let his emotions show now than breed distrust later.

…That was what I had intended with Charlotte, too.

"I see. Got it."

Reven was calmer than I expected. Maybe even calmer than me.

That surprised me. I thought, considering he went out of his way to come here in his condition, he’d be frantic with worry.

But he isn’t? No, that doesn’t make sense. After what I saw last night, I know better.

So why?

The realization makes me freeze.

Reven lets out a sharp laugh through his nose.

"Surprised, are you?"

"Why?"

"Because I seem calm? Is that how it looks?"

His eyes open—eyes that shouldn’t see. Empty, and yet somehow shining.

That glow is heat.

"I already know what she’s thinking as if I can read it in my hand. No doubt she’s blaming herself and ran off somewhere."

The room feels like it’s shaking. But no—the floor hasn’t budged an inch.

Was I tricked into feeling that? Me, who excelled above all in sensing presences?

"But up until now, she didn’t act like anything was bothering her. Which means—something in your conversation set her off. Something she couldn’t ignore. Am I wrong?"

Even phrased like a question, his tone makes it clear he doesn’t want an answer.

From all I’ve seen, I’m convinced—this man probably understands Charlotte’s mind better than I do. Frustratingly enough.

He sees things I can’t.

"You idiot."

He spits the words out like venom.

"I slept on it, and my thoughts are clear now. Trishel."

『What』

"Go call my subordinate. A man named Neil. Tell him, 'Play the flute on the withered land.' He’ll understand."

『What are you planning to do』

"What I’m planning to do? That should be obvious…"

My body nearly jolted back before I forced it still.

Was that raw pressure flooding out of him? Did I actually flinch before him? No—this is something else—!

"I’ll show them exactly who they’ve made an enemy of."

I’d heard tales. That when a person stands at the brink of death, or lost in a darkness without hope, they can reach an ultimate state.

If this presence is proof he’s stepped into that realm, then—

"The time of despair is over. Once you’ve fallen, the only way is up. As a challenger, I’ll test just how good you are—Salem."

The cup resting on the desk cracked with a sharp snap, spilling its contents across the wood.

The corner of his mouth curled upward.

Rotten or not, he was still of the Black Clan. I understood now—he too was one of those who had earned the right to step beyond the human frame.

I hurried toward the inn where Reven was staying.

Some clan members tried to stop me on the way, but I brushed their hands aside. They could do nothing to help. Worse, if they acted rashly, they’d only make things harder.

The inn itself looked ordinary at first glance. But the innkeeper was anything but. A former assassin, he’d once played a decisive role in the power struggles of this town.

Which, of course, meant Salem’s influence had likely touched him as well.

Well, here I am…

"Isn’t this a bit sudden, innkeeper?"

"…Had to. A rotten face showed up at my door."

In the blink of an eye, the world shifted.

A knife appeared where none had been a heartbeat ago.

Its edge hovered at my throat. One wrong breath, and it would sink in and slice me open.

"What’s Blue’s business here? I’ve retired from killing, you know."

"I’ve come for one of your guests. The prince’s men."

"I’ll pass the message along. Say it."

"I can’t."

I pressed a finger to the flat of the blade, gently pushing it away from my throat.

He’d been holding it loosely from the start; with only a little pressure, it shifted aside without resistance.

"I haven’t dismissed the possibility you’re still tied to Salem."

The innkeeper clicked his tongue in irritation.

Passersby picked up on the tension, turned to look—then, recognizing him, quickly averted their eyes. As if they’d just witnessed something dangerous, they hurried away at a trot.

"Don’t lump me with that scum. Makes me sick."

"The kids still doing well?"

"Far as I know. Sad to say, the ones who left town are holding up just fine."

Like a magician, the knife vanished from his hand. He opened the door, gesturing me inside.

I complied, stepping through. He followed right after, shutting the door tight behind us.

The code phrase had checked out. I could trust him, at least for now.

"And Salem’s lackeys?"

"Won’t be back anytime soon. If they were going to run from just one death, they shouldn’t have started in the first place."

So he had been attacked last night.

Not that it mattered—no average thug could beat this man. Face him head-on as an adventurer, and I’d win. But if forced into a battle of assassins… that would be dicey. Better avoided.

"Hey! You’ve got a visitor!"

His bark drew several men peering down from the second floor.

All of them looked wary—except one. He alone suppressed his presence so as not to provoke me, taking up a position that allowed him to see the whole room. Ready to give orders at any moment.

Naturally, I pointed him out.

"You’re Neil?"

"Y-yes. That’s me."

He looked startled.

I couldn’t help but smile. Even Black’s pawns had a bit of charm to them.

"A message from your prince: 'Play the flute on the withered land.'"

The moment my words reached them, every trace of their presence vanished.

Still standing there, they transformed into silent dolls, ready to obey.

All for their king. A moment when all their wills fused into one.

As for me—there’s little more I can do now.

So I’ll pray. Pray that you give your all.