There’s Something Special About Her - Chapter 5

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 5.
I know this feeling.
This is exactly what it’s like when a blade slides beneath the jaw.
Gulp.
Killian Nox and I are a good ten paces apart.
Yet the cold certainty of steel pressing against soft flesh beneath my chin ran down my spine as if the blade were there now.
“Stop.”
Damn.
I clenched my teeth and turned slowly around.
Once again, our eyes met.
Since that day thirteen years ago when my entire family was slaughtered, the survival instinct that had kept me alive in Wickes classified the man before me as apex predator.
My blood drained cold, and in an instant every nerve ending sharpened.
The hair falling across Killian Nox’s brow seemed to flutter in slow motion.
Thud, thud.
The sound of him carelessly unbuttoning his blood-soaked shirt crashed through my ears like thunder.
As his long, powerful legs moved and his shoe pointed toward me, I felt the air itself tighten against my skin.
“Is there…”
I forced the words out, bowing respectfully.
“Is there anything else you require?”
Fortunately, my voice emerged steady and composed.
A sharp gaze bore down on the crown of my head for a moment, then Killian Nox spoke in a lazy drawl.
“Prepare the oils.”
Unbelievable—just unbelievable.
Part of me wanted to bolt from this bathroom, this entire mansion, right now.
“Yes, understood.”
I kept my head lowered and walked quietly toward the side of the tub, praying our eyes wouldn’t meet again.
‘He didn’t notice. He couldn’t have.’
If Killian Nox had suspected me, I would have looked like that spy from moments ago the instant I stepped through the bathroom door.
Which meant I still had a chance.
‘I can survive this.’
But that glimmer of hope flickered out just as quickly, faced with dozens upon dozens of oil bottles arrayed before me.
How was I supposed to know which oils Killian Nox preferred?
Back in Wickes, information about Killian Nox had been the hardest intelligence to gather.
No matter how thoroughly I wrung my spies and informants, the answer was always the same: “He takes no interest in anything. He likes nothing.”
‘Wait—that one…?’
My eyes caught on a bottle I recognized as I stood there, mind racing and lip bitten raw.
It was pale green—Geltus Oil, extracted from a plant primarily used for treating muscle pain and similar ailments.
I’d kept a bottle myself; nothing worked better at stripping away the stench of blood clinging to the skin.
It wasn’t typically used as a bath oil, which made it odd to find it here.
I poured the Geltus Oil into the tub and stirred the water briskly with the large wooden paddle beside it, watching the milky oil disperse quickly throughout.
Fortunately, Killian Nox no longer paid me any attention.
He was focused only on undressing; all I heard was the occasional soft rustle of fabric.
That’s when a new person abruptly entered the bathroom.
“Hm? You’re still here?”
It was Dupon Clansher, who had sent me to fetch water in the first place.
He glanced between me and Killian Nox once, then waved his hand dismissively.
“That’s enough. You can go now.”
Thank god.
I’ve never been more grateful to Dupon in my life.
“Yes, sir.”
I bowed quickly toward Killian and bolted from the bathroom.
I barely made it back to my room before sliding down the door and collapsing against it.
I didn’t have the strength to reach the bed.
“Jesus…”
A strangled sound escaped between my fingers as I covered my mouth.
My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
“I nearly died in there.”
This must be what it feels like to have your head inside a predator’s jaws and somehow pull it out alive.
I wiped my face repeatedly with the back of my hand, then let out another deep breath.
“I’m alive.”
For some reason, Killian Nox’s decadent eyes and smooth skin kept flickering through my mind like some cheap, lurid page-turner.
But faced with nearly losing my life, such things faded quickly.
***
Behind the small figure who rushed out of the bathroom as if his hair were on fire, Killian’s gaze lingered.
Only for a moment, though.
He tore away the blood-soaked clothing clinging to his body like wet paper, then walked toward the tub, rotating his neck side to side.
With each languid movement of his long legs, muscles rippled and churned across his entire frame.
There are two types of people in this world.
Those who look bigger with clothes on, and those who look bigger with clothes off.
Dupon’s master, Duke Killian Nox, was unquestionably the latter.
For Killian, clothing was nothing but camouflage.
The moment he unfastened a button, he revealed himself like a beast freed from its chain.
Even Dupon, who had been born into the Clansher Family as Nox’s retainers and had served at Killian’s side his entire life, occasionally flinched at the sheer ferocity and danger of him unclothed.
Every muscle was perfectly toned, moving in harmonious precision like an intricately designed machine.
And Dupon knew well the inhuman strength that body possessed.
The kind that could crush a man like overripe fruit—the task Killian had just finished—was for him little more difficult than lifting an empty cup.
“Dupon.”
“Yes, sir.”
In the vast tub, Killian opened his eyes, his long lashes casting shadows across them.
“How many was that this time?”
Tense.
Dupon’s body went rigid.
“The third… sir.”
Lately, spies kept turning up inside the organization.
The intelligence division had done its best to root them out, but three had been discovered directly by the boss’s own hand.
Greyer Nox, head of the intelligence division, had been tasked with uncovering their sources and plugging the security breach.
But he kept failing.
Dupon thought, ‘Is today finally the day Greyer Nox dies?’ as he lowered his head.
The fact that he shared blood relation with the Duke was irrelevant.
Under the Nox name, all bowed beneath Killian’s feet alone.
……
But no matter how long he waited, the order condemning Greyer Nox never came.
Splash.
Water cascaded down as Killian languidly swept his hair back.
It was hard to imagine this figure—beautiful, almost like a decadent work of art—had just torn a man apart with his bare hands.
Dupon realized that Greyer Nox had already vanished without a trace from Killian’s mind.
‘I thought he was done showing mercy.’
Even as Dupon tilted his head slightly in confusion, he stopped trying to fathom his master’s thoughts.
Even growing up like brothers, he could never penetrate that mystery.
At times like this, the wisest course was to simply trust that there was a plan and wait for orders.
“What of the investigation into the woman?”
“Do you mean Helena Morton, sir?”
“Yes.”
Killian’s long amber eyes, obscured by steam, gleamed hazily.
“That woman is no ordinary person.”
Dupon shook his head slowly as he answered.
“To think a Morton survivor had been hiding in Wickes all this time.”
It had been roughly a year ago. The unprecedented incident had occurred in Wickes, where ambitious men perpetually eyed Nox’s seat.
The central figure was Helena, a woman who had made her name as the aide to Baron Edward Wickes.
Born a foundling, she started as a street pickpocket in Wickes and then climbed the ladder of a complex, tightly woven organization in a straight vertical line.
She rose to prominence as an assassin, and before long, she had gathered intelligence from her missions and built an intelligence network within Wickes itself.
Three years.
It took only three years to lead her newly formed intelligence division in completely disrupting Nox’s intelligence operations and establish herself as a new power player in Wickes.
Edward Wickes held her so dear and kept her so close to his side that rumors spread of a bond between them deeper than that of successor and trusted lieutenant.
Then, a year ago, that same Helena suddenly killed Count Benedick Wickes and disappeared.
“And this was just before she was to be granted her surname.”
Wickes had a unique tradition: those who earned the organization’s official recognition received the family name “Wickes,” the name of the founding clan.
It was both a mark of consolidated power and a declaration that harming such a person meant becoming a target of Wickes’s infamous Blood Revenge.
“She hid herself so skillfully that we cannot find her. Perhaps… this exceeds my capabilities, sir.”
Dupon pressed his creased brow and sighed.
Helena of Wickes was damn competent.
Many in Nox, especially Greyer Nox who had suffered total defeat in espionage warfare, gnashed their teeth at merely hearing her name.
When word came that she had suddenly murdered Count Benedick Wickes and fled, Greyer Nox’s own house hosted celebratory feasts for days on end.
Helena was already a dead woman, hunted by Wickes’s wolves, or so they thought.
But that was all.
Until an urgent report reached Nox’s intelligence division.
[Edward Wickes is searching for “Helena Morton.”]
The significance of the Morton name to the Nox dynasty was extraordinary.
“She’s the woman who spent thirteen years sharpening her blade for revenge against her own family. When the Mortons were massacred, Helena Morton was merely ten years old. For her to have begun her revenge at such a tender age…”
It was frankly terrifying.
What kind of eyes would a human with that much venom be looking at the world with?
Yet.
“Find her.”
A single command.
“Find Helena Morton and bring her before me.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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