Chapter 422: The False Residence

The False Residence

Brinda looked up.

"I was thinking."

"About whether you made the right decision?"

A faint smile appeared on Brinda’s face.

"Something like that."

Felberta’s smile deepened.

"Then perhaps you should stop thinking about whether it was right."

"And think about whether I can survive it?"

"Exactly."

Brinda gave a small scoff.

"You’re remarkably honest for someone who has spent this entire meeting hiding behind the word ’merchant.’"

Felberta chuckled.

"Everyone has their secrets, Ms. Brinda."

The way she said the name made Brinda’s eyes narrow.

There was no threat in Felberta’s voice.

That almost made it worse.

"You know," Brinda said quietly, "I still haven’t decided whether you’re incredibly brave or simply reckless."

"Perhaps I’m both."

"That’s not reassuring."

"It wasn’t meant to be."

For the first time since the agreement had been made, Brinda allowed herself a faint laugh.

It disappeared quickly.

Her expression became serious again.

"There’s something I want to make clear."

Felberta raised an eyebrow.

"If this arrangement puts the people here in unnecessary danger, I’ll reconsider it."

"I wouldn’t expect anything less."

"And if your shop becomes a problem for this city—"

"I’ll deal with it."

Brinda paused.

She studied Felberta’s face.

There was no hesitation.

No irritation.

Just certainty.

That answer did not comfort her.

But strangely, it gave her a little confidence.

At least Felberta understood that this was not merely a transaction.

There were people involved.

Lives.

Brinda glanced down at the pouch once more.

The white gold reflected the warm light of the room.

It looked almost beautiful.

Almost innocent.

Yet Brinda knew better.

Money was never innocent.

Not when that much of it changed hands.

She closed her fingers around the pouch.

"Then we’ll see where this leads."

Felberta lifted her teacup.

"Indeed."

The porcelain touched her lips, and she took a calm sip.

Outside, the wind moved through the trees surrounding the mansion.

Leaves whispered against one another beneath the afternoon breeze.

Neither woman spoke for several moments.

The agreement had been made.

But neither of them truly believed the danger was over.

If anything, Brinda understood the opposite.

The moment she accepted Felberta’s money was the moment their paths became connected.

And somewhere beyond the walls of the mansion, the future of New Fantom was already beginning to change.

-------------------------

Otherside, It took Victor and Diana fourteen days to reach the Marquis territory lands the Elmhart family called home.

The journey had been far from straightforward.

The territory itself was not particularly difficult to locate. The problem was finding the residence of the Marquis.

According to the information they had gathered before arriving, the Elmhart family possessed a large estate somewhere within the territory, an imposing residence that should have been impossible to miss. Yet when Victor and Diana finally reached the location marked on their information, they found only an elegant manor surrounded by carefully maintained grounds.

It looked convincing.

Too convincing.

Victor stood before the estate with his hands resting loosely at his sides, his golden eyes quietly sweeping across the buildings.

Black hair stirred around his shoulders beneath the passing wind. His sharp features remained calm, but there was a faint crease between his brows.

Diana stood beside him, her dark hair moving gently in the breeze.

She glanced toward the estate.

"So this is supposed to be the Elmhart family’s residence?"

Victor nodded.

"That’s what the information says."

Diana narrowed her red eyes.

"And yet?"

Victor’s lips curved slightly.

"And yet something feels wrong."

They had already checked the surrounding area.

The estate was real.

The servants were real.

The guards were real.

Even the documents connected to the property appeared legitimate.

But the deeper they looked, the more obvious the truth became.

This was not the Elmhart family’s true home.

It was a mask.

A residence designed to be discovered.

A place enemies could invade, search, and perhaps even destroy while the real family remained safely hidden somewhere else.

Victor had seen this kind of deception before.

A powerful family rarely survived for generations by being careless.

"Let’s leave," Victor said.

Diana gave the manor one last look.

"Without searching it?"

"We already know what it is."

Victor turned away.

"A false residence isn’t useful to us."

They left the estate behind and began searching the surrounding territory.

The further they traveled, the more Victor realized how carefully the Elmhart family had concealed itself.

There were no obvious roads leading toward another manor.

No merchants openly discussing the family’s movements.

No travelers casually pointing toward their territory.

Even the locals seemed uncertain about where the current Marquis actually lived.

That uncertainty itself was information.

Victor and Diana eventually began asking people in nearby villages.

They kept their questions casual.

They never directly revealed why they were looking for the Marquis.

Sometimes Victor posed as a traveler interested in the territory.

Other times Diana asked questions while Victor remained nearby, quietly observing the villagers’ expressions.

They quickly learned something interesting.

Everyone had heard rumors about the Marquis.

Almost nobody agreed on what kind of person he actually was.

At the first village, an elderly farmer laughed when Victor mentioned the Marquis.

"You mean that lecherous bastard?"

Victor raised an eyebrow.

Diana’s lips twitched.

The farmer shook his head as though the answer were obvious.

"They say he steals wives from villages whenever he takes a liking to them. If a woman catches his attention, you’d better keep her away from the Marquis territory."

Another villager immediately interrupted.

"That’s nonsense."

The farmer glared at him.

"What?"

"You’ve never even seen the man."

"And neither have you."

"Exactly."

The argument quickly turned into a debate.

Victor listened quietly.

Interesting.

The rumors were already contradicting one another.

In one village, the Marquis was supposedly a shameless man who stole wives.

In another, he was apparently some depraved noble who cared about nothing except women.

The details changed constantly.

But the general image remained the same.

A lustful noble.

A man who cared only for pleasure.

A person whose behavior was so disgraceful that ordinary villagers could easily hate him.

Victor did not believe it.