Linia Took in a Child - Chapter 3: The Man with Red Eyes (5)

Early in the morning, Russell sat at his desk, absorbed in the reports before him. They were investigative documents about recent incidents in the territory.

The fire incident had eyewitness accounts, but there were no concrete clues to identify the perpetrator. As for the disappearance case, the state of the victim’s body raised suspicions, but with no witnesses or evidence, it had been classified as an accidental death. Closing the file with a heavy heart, Russell moved on to another report.

This one detailed missing children from other territories. Russell had decided to investigate Ruin’s origins—his real name, where he came from, and what he might have endured before showing up injured at the mansion in the woods.

Ruin’s silver-gray hair, almost on the boundary between silver and gray, was rare enough that it seemed like a significant identifying feature. Russell had hoped it would make the search easier.

However, after an hour of combing through the documents, he found no missing child that matched Ruin’s appearance. Whenever the hair color seemed similar, the eye color, height, or facial features didn’t align.

Was he not a missing child?

Russell wondered if Ruin might be an abandoned orphan. Sighing deeply, he glanced at the clock—it was nearly lunchtime. Rising from his chair, he prepared for a brief outing.

Today was the day of his family’s weekly luncheon, a tradition none of them missed, no matter how busy they were. It was a promise made in honor of their late mother, and their father and older brother upheld it strictly.

Upon arriving at the Damon family estate, the butler informed him that his father and brother were already waiting. Russell quickened his pace toward the dining room.

Opening the door, his gaze immediately met his father’s, who was seated at the head of the table.

“Father, I apologize for being late.”

“It’s fine. Come, sit down,” his father, Count Damon, said with a warm smile. As Russell took his seat, the Count signaled for the meal to begin.

As Russell picked up his knife and fork, his brother, Adrian, spoke from across the table.

“Why didn’t you bring her along?”

Russell didn’t need clarification to know who Adrian meant. With a sheepish smile, he replied, “I thought it might be too overwhelming for her. I didn’t mention it.”

“Too overwhelming, huh?” Adrian chuckled softly, a teasing note in his voice.

“So, it seems you’ve made some progress. I was worried you’d bumble your way through it.”

Adrian’s words were laced with amusement. He recalled how his younger brother had spoken repeatedly about wanting to reunite with a certain woman. At the time, Adrian had thought it was merely gratitude driving him, but now it was clear Russell had fallen for her at first sight.

After their fateful reunion, Russell’s joy had been evident. His concern for her safety and comfort had led him to offer her a guest room in the estate—a mansion gifted to him by their grandparents for use after marriage. Though she didn’t know its significance, Adrian did, and it was proof enough of his brother’s sincerity.

“I’d like to meet her someday,” Adrian continued, his tone light but sincere. “Of course, just to personally thank her—don’t get any ideas.”

“I know,” Russell replied, his voice deliberately curt. He wasn’t fooled by his brother’s playful demeanor. Adrian’s amusement at teasing him was all too apparent, and Russell felt a pang of envy at his brother’s carefree attitude.

Trying to shift the conversation, Russell searched for a new topic when their father’s voice drew his attention.

“The palace issued a warrant yesterday,” Count Damon said, looking at Russell.

“I already mentioned this to Adrian last night, but it’s worth telling you as well. If you see a young man with silver-gray hair and red eyes, avoid him at all costs.”

Russell paused mid-motion, his knife hovering over his plate.

“That’s a rare combination,” he remarked, forcing himself to sound casual. “What did he do to warrant a royal decree?”

“The report from the palace states that he’s responsible for numerous murders in the capital,” his father replied grimly.

“How many people did he kill…?” Russell asked cautiously.

“What we know so far is that he has killed at least twenty people, including his own family, in brutal fashion,” the Count said, his expression heavy.

The implication was clear—there might be more victims than what was officially known.

Adrian, who had been quiet, spoke up in a low, serious tone, his playful demeanor replaced by solemnity.

“Do we know his name?”

“Edwin Schpenhart,” Adrian replied, his voice steady. “I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

“Schpenhart… that’s the name of a ducal family, isn’t it?”

“That’s correct. They’re one of the most renowned noble families in the capital, known throughout the Empire,” Adrian confirmed.

Even as Russell heard the words, he struggled to believe them. After all, the Schpenhart family wasn’t just any ducal house—they were the most prestigious lineage of mages in the entire Empire.

“I’ve never met Edwin Schpenhart myself,” Adrian admitted, “but I’ve heard about him a few times from friends who live in the capital.”

Adrian began to recount what he knew of Edwin from secondhand accounts.

His friend had described Edwin as “a model noble, nearly flawless.” Despite being the grandson of a duke, he wasn’t arrogant or self-important. Instead, he carried himself with impeccable manners and tact, blending effortlessly into social circles. While this polished behavior might have been a carefully curated facade, Adrian’s friend noted that Edwin seemed naturally adept at navigating the complexities of noble society.

“For the nobles in the capital, this must be a massive shock. Honestly, when Father first told me about him, I thought it must be a mistake, that he was talking about someone else,” Adrian admitted.

Edwin Schpenhart had been born into an ideal environment, blessed with extraordinary magical talent. Why would someone with such a bright future throw it all away to become a murderer? Adrian speculated that Edwin might have pushed himself too hard to meet everyone’s lofty expectations, eventually breaking under the pressure and losing his mind.

“Our territory is far from the capital, so we’re relatively safe for now,” Adrian continued. “But just in case, be careful. If you ever encounter him, run. That’s the only way you’ll survive.”

“Adrian’s right,” their father added. “He’s not someone we can handle. Waiting for the palace to send someone is our best option.”

Russell nodded silently at their advice, though the weight of the conversation lingered with him. Even as the meal continued, his mind remained clouded with heavy thoughts.

*

As Russell rode the carriage back to the mansion, his mind repeatedly turned to the man they had discussed: Edwin Schpenhart.

The Schpenhart family had long been celebrated for producing exceptional mages, each head of the family more talented than the last. It stood to reason that Edwin, hailed as the perfect heir, would be no exception.

A mage…

There were fewer than thirty mages in the entire Empire, making information about them scarce. Russell’s knowledge of magic was limited to the basics widely known to the public:

Unlike holy power, which was granted only to the saint chosen by the gods, magic resided in all living things. However, most ordinary people were completely unaware of its existence. Only a rare few, known as mages, could perceive and manipulate magic freely.

The thought of someone using that mysterious power to kill sent chills down Russell’s spine. If he were to encounter Edwin Schpenhart, would he even have a chance to escape? Ordinary people like him stood no chance against such incomprehensible power and would likely be killed instantly.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the carriage slowing to a crawl. Russell shifted his gaze from the seat opposite him to the window. Outside, the familiar sight of his mansion came into view, its blue roof rising above the lush gardens.

Once the carriage came to a stop, he stepped out and made his way inside. The mansion was unusually quiet. While it had always been a tranquil place due to the small number of staff, the silence now felt eerie, even unsettling.

On his way through the first-floor hall, he didn’t encounter a single person. The atmosphere was so different from when he had left that Russell couldn’t help but furrow his brow slightly as he ascended the central staircase.

As he reached the second floor, he spotted the elderly steward walking toward him from the opposite end of the hallway.

“Did something happen while I was away?” Russell asked as he approached.

The steward gave a slight bow, but when he raised his head, his expression was grim, his complexion pale. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally spoke.

“…There’s been a death in the mansion.”

Rain began to fall late in the evening as Rinea sat in her room, stitching embroidery onto a handkerchief. Over the past several days, she had worked on it whenever she found spare moments, and now it was nearly complete.

At the center of the white handkerchief bloomed three Rudbeckia flowers, a symbol of eternal happiness. Along the edge, she carefully stitched Ruin’s name, each thread imbued with her hopes for his future happiness.

“Rinea, there’s someone outside,” came Ruin’s young voice, breaking her focus.

She froze mid-stitch and looked toward the child. Ruin stood at the window, staring fixedly at something beyond the glass.

Setting her embroidery aside, Rinea joined him at the window. Rain drizzled softly outside, shrouding the grounds in darkness. She glanced below but saw no one near the estate.

“Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?” she asked.

“No, I’m sure,” Ruin replied, his wide, pale face showing clear fear as he looked up at her. “Someone was standing there, looking this way.”

A shiver ran down Rinea’s spine at his words. The sight of his anxious expression and the mention of a figure outside made her hands tremble faintly.

“What if it’s a ghost?” Ruin whispered, his voice barely audible but laced with genuine fear.

Rinea’s thoughts flashed back to the unsettling news Russell had shared earlier that day. One of the maids had been found hanging in her room, an apparent suicide. From the state of the body, it seemed she had taken her own life the previous night.

Rinea had refrained from telling Ruin about it, not wanting to frighten him. But now, his words dredged up the fears she had tried to bury, gripping her mind with an icy chill.

“How about we get ready for bed?” she suggested gently, masking her unease with a calm tone.

Taking Ruin’s hand, she led him to the bed. Once he climbed onto his spot, Rinea returned to the window, locking it securely before drawing the curtains closed. Thankfully, the door to their room had a sturdy latch. She made sure to bolt it before lighting the bedside lamp.

“Ruin, come here. Should we sleep while hugging each other again tonight?”

Her soft invitation made Ruin crawl over to her without hesitation, nestling himself into her arms. The warmth of his small body helped soothe her nerves, even just a little.

She pulled the blanket over them and cradled him close, humming a lullaby in a quiet voice just loud enough for him to hear.

It wasn’t long before Ruin fell asleep, his breathing soft and rhythmic. Rinea, however, found herself unable to drift off. Her mind was plagued with the inexplicable unease that had lingered since earlier.

Hours passed, and eventually, she succumbed to a light, restless sleep.

*