Inside Edgar's dimly lit secret chamber, the air felt thick and suffocating, as if it had solidified under the weight of tension. The flickering candlelight cast erratic shadows across the heavy oak table at the center of the room.
With a sharp crack, Edgar's palm slammed against the tabletop, making the candleholder tremble. The flames flickered wildly, casting jagged silhouettes on the stone walls.
"You've heard what happened, haven't you?" His voice was low but brimming with restrained fury, his sharp gaze piercing through the stillness like a blade. "You'd better give me a damn good explanation."
Opposite him, a tall man in a dark coat stood with his hands calmly clasped behind his back, his expression indifferent. Edgar's anger seemed to slide off him like raindrops off a stone.
"I didn't expect Emma to go that far," he said, his tone smooth and unruffled, as though discussing an irrelevant matter. "I only shared information with her, knowing that she had a stronger motive to see it through. She was willing to go to any lengths—an additional force, an extra advantage, don't you think?"
Edgar let out a cold chuckle, his narrowed eyes gleaming like a predator eyeing its prey. "Information sharing, huh? Then explain this—"
He flung a thick folder onto the table. Several photographs slid free, scattering beneath the dim light. The images showed the lifeless faces of captured kidnappers—corpses, all of them, taken by the police.
"I had my men verify them," Edgar continued, his voice like ice. "They're all yours. Was this part of your so-called information sharing as well?"
The tall man lowered his gaze, briefly scanning the photos. His lips curled almost imperceptibly before settling back into a neutral expression.
"I merely assigned a few people to her—to pass on messages and ensure she didn't go overboard," he replied, still unnervingly calm. But to Edgar, his composure was nothing more than a hollow excuse.
"Bullshit."
Edgar lost his patience. In a single stride, he crossed the table, grabbing the man by the collar and yanking him forward. His voice dropped to a near growl, seething with barely contained rage.
"Your people were about to kill Livia! You think they would've dared without your orders? Do you really believe I don't see through your intentions?!"
For the first time, a flicker of emotion passed through the man's eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He met Edgar's glare and, instead of resisting, merely smirked.
"Yes. I hate her."
His voice was low, edged with a quiet menace. "If not for her, Celesta wouldn't be dead."
The temperature in the chamber seemed to plummet. Edgar's pupils contracted, his grip unconsciously tightening.
"A woman who brings nothing but disaster," the man continued, his tone detached, emotionless. "The sooner she dies, the better."
Then he paused. A shadow passed through his gaze before he added coldly, "But I wouldn't dirty my own hands to do it."
Slowly, he raised his hand and pried Edgar's fingers away, one by one. After smoothing out the wrinkles on his collar, he spoke again, his voice eerily composed.
"There's only one thing I want, and you know what it is."
Edgar said nothing, but his stare remained as sharp as a dagger.
"If you can't bring yourself to do it, or refuse to," the man's tone darkened, "then I'll go to Marcellus myself. Otherwise, I can't guarantee Livia won't have another… 'accident.'"
The chamber fell into a heavy silence. Edgar held his gaze, his expression unreadable, like the depths of a shadowed abyss. Then, after a moment, he let out a dry laugh.
"Hmph. If it wasn't you, I'll find out soon enough." The fury in his voice simmered, though his wariness remained. "But if it was… our cooperation ends here."
The tall man narrowed his eyes slightly, amusement flickering beneath his composed facade.
"As for Marcellus," Edgar continued, his voice turning colder, "I have my own plans. I'm closing in on the answer. And that expansion project? Stay out of it. We may share the same goal, but when I find it, I will decide how it's used."
The tall man remained silent for a moment, seemingly weighing his next words. Finally, he gave a slight nod and turned toward the chamber's entrance.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he said as he reached the door, pausing without turning back. "Because if that goal isn't met… I don't know what I'll become."
The door creaked shut behind him, sealing the chamber in silence once more.
Edgar stood still, his expression unreadable, fingers curling slightly. He knew—despite their uneasy alliance—he couldn't afford to trust that man completely. Most of all, he couldn't allow Livia to come to harm.
—
Meanwhile, outside the chamber, rain drummed against the stone pavement, filling the air with a damp, biting chill.
The tall man lifted his gaze to the overcast sky. Raindrops rolled off the brim of his hat, trailing down his face. His eyes held a deep, unreadable emotion before he murmured to himself—
"I wonder how you're doing now… Though whether your daughter lives or dies has nothing to do with me."
The rain blurred his vision, his voice dissolving into the wind, laced with resentment and mockery.
"If you had chosen me back then, none of this would have happened."
He fell into brief contemplation before striding toward a sleek black car parked by the roadside. The driver stood waiting, respectful and silent.
Without another glance at the stormy sky, he settled into the backseat, his voice devoid of warmth as he issued a command.
"Drive. To that place in the outskirts."
The car pulled away, swallowed by the rain and the shadows beyond.