There’s Something Special About Her - Chapter 93

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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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Chapter 93.
What’s he doing up at this hour?
I’d heard he goes to bed sharp at ten o’clock every night.
I wondered if I’d gotten it wrong, so I pulled out my pocket watch to check—but no, it was well past midnight.
I was about to approach him and ask if something was wrong when—
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“…Two o’clock?”
“So what were you doing outside the Quarters at this hour?”
I tilted my head.
Unless my eyes deceived me, Maximilian was actually angry at me.
But I couldn’t think of anything I’d done to warrant his displeasure.
“Why are you asking?”
“What?”
“I’m just wondering why you care what I’ve been doing at this hour.”
“Well, obviously—!”
“Obviously?”
“Because I’m worried about you!”
Maximilian lowered his voice, barely audible.
“My room’s right next to yours, you know? And you keep coming in at these late hours, and—do you have any idea how much that bothers me?”
“Ah.”
Now I understood the way his mind worked.
Maximilian was a light sleeper.
“Sorry, kid.”
I apologized to Maximilian and tried to slip into my room.
At least until he grabbed my wrist as I brushed past his shoulder.
“I’ll be more careful from now on…?”
“Where are you going at night?”
“Can we not talk about this?”
“If I let go, will you tell me?”
I was already dead on my feet, and this was the last thing I needed.
I applied light force and shook the boy’s hand away.
Smack!
The sound was sharper than I’d anticipated.
He should’ve just let go when I asked him to.
“It’s late. Stop being difficult and get some sleep if you’re tired.”
“You turned me down, and the best you can do is Bertolt Krause?”
Where the hell did that idiot’s name come from?
Unable to follow the sudden turn in the conversation, I stopped reaching for the door handle and turned back to face him.
His expression—wounded, troubled—looked completely out of place on such a refined face.
“I don’t know what you’re misunderstanding…”
“I know you’ve been getting close to that guy lately.”
I suppose the few times I’d approached him for information could’ve looked that way.
And now I understood why Maximilian had stopped me at this late hour.
“That bastard isn’t what he seems. Whether you know it or not—”
“I know. He’s strange.”
I sighed softly.
I felt a little guilty for shaking off his hand so roughly just moments ago, and more than a little embarrassed.
Maximilian had been worried about me.
Worried I might be led astray by Bertolt Krause.
Worried enough to stay up with drowsy eyes, fighting sleep.
“Thanks for looking out for me.”
“I—I wasn’t worried!”
“You were. Anyway, I already know Krause is an idiot. I’m just keeping him close because I need something from him.”
Before I closed the door, I spoke to him through the remaining gap.
“So stop worrying and get some rest. Or I’ll catch up to your height.”
“We’re over a head taller than each other—! Hey, Runelk!”
Even after I shut the door in his face, all he did was call my name a few times.
And only in a soft voice, so as not to wake the others.
Remembering how my predecessors in the Guard Corps had pounded the hinges half off, I let out a quiet laugh.
Even in moments like this, he kept his manners.
Truly the mark of a well-raised young man.
***
D-59.
Once the day’s duties ended and everyone had fallen asleep, I began preparing to leave.
All it amounted to was pulling out the black infiltration suit I’d stashed at the bottom of my bag.
I had just reached for the face mask—the final piece, capable of concealing both hair and face.
Tap-tap-tap.
Onyx must have returned.
He’d hurried out around dinner time—odd that he’d come back at this hour when he was usually still making his rounds.
As I walked casually toward the curtained window, mulling this over, a second tap sounded at the pane, more insistent than the first.
Tap-tap-tap!
And again.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap…
“What’s gotten into you?”
Ravens have sharp hearing.
He couldn’t have failed to catch the sound of me approaching to open the window, yet the impatient tapping startled me into yanking the curtains open.
I wondered if he was being chased by an owl.
“Caw.”
But Onyx looked fine.
No suspicious birds of prey lurking nearby.
“Caw!”
“All right, all right! Impatient creature.”
The moment I unlatched the window, without waiting a heartbeat, Onyx wedged his head through the gap and fluttered in with a flutter of wings.
Then he began frantically flapping his right leg.
The leg with the small message capsule attached.
But no matter how much he thrashed, there was no way that tiny capsule, bound securely with thin cord, would simply fall loose.
Eventually Onyx grew exasperated, flapping his wings at me in frustration.
“Caw! Caw!”
“You want me to untie it? Completely?”
“Caw!”
Was I actually supposed to touch this?
Did I have any right to tamper with a messenger bird’s equipment?
“Caw-caw!”
The yellow glint in his eyes looked like a threat to peck me if I didn’t comply, so I had no choice but to undo the cord.
What happened next was even stranger.
The bird—trained meticulously never to fly indoors—suddenly shot toward the bed and began frantically rubbing his right leg against the blankets, as though wiping away something filthy.
As though the capsule had left something unpleasant on him.
“What in the world are you doing?”
“Caw.”
Finally calm enough to acknowledge me, Onyx turned and let out a short cry.
As if to say: open it if you want to know.
Bewildered, I let out a hollow laugh and opened the thumb-sized capsule—and instantly understood Onyx’s distress perfectly.
[How much longer must I wait?]
Killian Nox.
The note bore no signature, and I’d never seen his handwriting, yet the moment I unfolded the slip, I knew.
“Onyx.”
“Caw.”
“No peanuts for you today.”
“Caw!”
“You bring me this and expect a reward?”
I had no snacks for a messenger bird caught between its master’s demands.
Yet despite his usual temperamental nature, Onyx simply let out a dispirited “Urrgh…” and buried his face in my pillow.
As if genuinely hurt.
“All right, all right. You didn’t want to bring it either.”
Whether it was me or a messenger bird, we both had to obey Killian Nox’s orders whether we liked it or not.
I eventually handed him a plate of treats.
Once I confirmed he’d perked up and was pecking at the peanuts, I pulled the face mask back on—set aside only moments before.
“I’m going.”
I was determined to move swiftly tonight without him having to send another message.
I checked the sky, where stars scattered like diamonds, then jumped down from the windowsill.
Tonight was a new moon.
***
Assassins and spies favor the new moon more than any storm.
Rain offers the advantage of masking footsteps and a target’s sounds, but stray droplets could leave traces, requiring caution.
But the new moon is different.
A moonless night provides excellent cover for discreet movement, and above all, it returns at regular intervals.
‘Perfect timing for illicit meetings.’
A spy extracting information from the Training Ground would never miss an opportunity like tonight to hand it off to a handler.
I melted into the black darkness, thinking it through.
‘I’ll start by checking the Outer Castle Walls near the Training Ground.’
The reasoning was simple.
The walls fall under the Guard Corps’ jurisdiction.
And there’s one more thing under their jurisdiction.
The patrol routes of the Guard Corps itself.

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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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