When I commissioned the Finder, they described a royal crest identical to the one engraved on the back of the neck, and with blonde hair—so the likelihood that it was Veronia was very high.

Though they mentioned the eyes weren’t blue, eye color could easily be altered with magic.

The Finders had located a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes at a certain slave trading post.

Even though slavery had been abolished over thirty years ago, slaves were still being traded in the black market. Sikar Blake was currently leading Blake’s private soldiers to apprehend everyone involved in the slave trade as soon as he found Veronia.

It was a journey taking over an hour. Bored from the long travel, Durion was yawning when he suddenly noticed Sikar fiddling with his collar—an action he’d never seen before.

“Your Grace. Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Fiddling with your collar.”

Sikar realized he’d unconsciously been touching his collar and lowered his hand.

“Has anyone ever grabbed your collar before?”

“Yes, they have.”

At that moment, Sikar’s eyes flashed sharply and persistently.

“When?”

“Hmm… mostly when begging for their lives, I suppose.”

The fierce glint vanished instantly, replaced by Sikar’s deflated expression.

“I meant, has anyone ever grabbed you to stop you from leaving somewhere?”

“You mean physically restraining someone who’s trying to leave? Who would do that? Isn’t that obstruction?”

“You’re impossible. For example, someone holding you back because they don’t want you to go. That kind of thing.”

“Could it be… that the Lady grabbed Your Grace?”

“She grabbed my collar as I was about to climb into the carriage. As you know, this was my first time experiencing such a thing.”

“Indeed. Who would dare grab Your Grace’s collar? That’s never happened before.”

“Everyone’s too afraid of me to even touch a single hair on my head. Even the deposed king never set foot in the ducal manor while I, a Sitar, resided there.”

“You’ve had a rare experience. Perhaps the Lady simply didn’t want to part from Your Grace.”

Sikar still found the experience strange and unfamiliar—he’d never encountered anything like it before.

“It was indeed a peculiar experience.”

“Apparently so. I should get married too—to someone who loves me as the Lady loves you.”

“It’s not easy to find someone who loves you despite knowing everything about you. Yura Blake liked me even knowing I’m a frightening person, but such people are rare.”

“True—most people are too scared to even meet Your Grace’s gaze, yet the Lady adores you. She truly is extraordinary.”

“Yura really is no different from a clueless stray pup.”

Sikar thought Yura greatly resembled Happy. Happy was a puppy his grandmother had randomly picked up off the street.

At the time, Sikar was in a highly sensitive state after losing both his parents. Yet that tiny puppy didn’t fear him at all—wagging its tail, following him around, and curling up beside him whenever he fell asleep.

Initially, he’d chased the puppy away because he disliked it, but seeing it faithfully sleeping beside him every night, Sikar began to feel the pup was like a fearless stray.

The strongest impression of that feeling from Yura came when she burrowed into his arms in the carriage, complaining of the cold.

Not even a puppy, but a human—clinging fearlessly, and now even grabbing his collar.

Sikar found Yura increasingly amusing the more he observed her.

The slave market reportedly operated in an old building located in an alley of the capital’s old district.

Outwardly, beside an ordinary general store stood an old, weathered door. Even after briefly observing, many nobles could be seen entering through it.

Leaving the soldiers outside, Sikar entered the building with Durion. In front of the old door stood a gaunt man wearing a cowboy hat, holding a knife and cutting rope.

Outwardly, it appeared he was merely cutting rope with a knife—but if someone failed to give the correct password or showed signs of being an inspector, that rope-cutting knife could instantly become a weapon.

The man didn’t even lift his head as he cut the rope, speaking dryly.

“How much do you need?”

Durion hadn’t memorized the password, so Sikar recalled the phrase he’d written down directly from the Finder and recited it.

“Today I need three rolls of twenty meters, and the day after tomorrow, two rolls of thirty meters.”

“We don’t have thirty meters.”

“Then please give me five rolls of fifteen meters.”

Only then did the gatekeeper cutting the rope push the door open, gesturing for them to enter.

Inside, a narrow, long staircase appeared, with lanterns sparsely mounted along the walls.

Descending the stairs, another door appeared. Opening it, they saw a long corridor behind which sat a fat man alone in a chair.

The man slowly rose from his seat upon seeing Sikar and Durion.

“May I see your admission ticket?”

Durion took out the ticket, and Sikar received it and handed it to the man.

As the man reached out to take the ticket, Sikar pretended to stumble and steadied himself by grabbing the man’s shoulder.

When the man glared as if asking what this was about, Sikar smoothly straightened himself and said,

“My foot slipped.”

In truth, while touching the man’s shoulder, Sikar rapidly read through his memories.

There were many employees at this auction house. Among them, those sold at auction were traded through a different entrance—not the one they had entered.

The person smuggling slaves out through that other entrance was definitely not this fat man before them.

Sikar handed back the ticket. The fat man scribbled something on it with a red pen and then led them to a room.

The room he guided them to resembled an opera box—dark inside, but with a wide opening in front offering a clear view of the slave auction stage. The sides were walled off, so no one could see who else was present.

As soon as Sikar entered the room, he recalled from memory and said,

“Open the door at the end of the corridor opposite the way we came—it leads upstairs. At the top of the stairs, another door will appear. Open it, and you’ll find the staff gathered there, including a notably large, hairy man. Pressure him to reveal the entrance used for slave transactions. Then station soldiers at that entrance.”

“Leave it to me!”

After Durion left the room, Sikar waited for the auction to begin. Fortunately, they hadn’t arrived late—no one had yet appeared on the auction stage.

Roughly several dozen minutes passed before the auction finally commenced.

The auction proceeded with individuals—male or female—appearing one by one. Interested buyers simply raised placards indicating their bid amount.

After observing the auctioneer for a while, Sikar spotted the woman described by the Finder—bearing the royal crest at the nape of her neck.

‘Is that her? I’ll know for sure once I hold her hand.’

Sikar immediately entered the bidding. Though competition arose, his bid of 200,000 shillings secured him an easy win.

After all slave transactions concluded, Sikar went upstairs.

The area Durion had swept through was now filled with people half-dead but not quite deceased. The hairy man was nowhere to be seen.

Grabbing one man, Sikar confirmed the exit route by reading his memories.

Based on the retrieved memory, he opened a door on the floor and entered a room packed with people awaiting sale into slavery. Men and women alike crouched in corners against the walls.

Sikar located the woman he’d earlier suspected to be Veronia. But the moment he grasped her hand, he knew she wasn’t Veronia.

While Durion escorted the illegal slave traders to the capital guards, Sikar delved further into the woman’s memories.

The woman, brought here as a slave, had once served Veronia in an underground prison. However, since her captors had hooded her during transit, she couldn’t recall the location.

She’d been so captivated by Veronia’s beautiful blonde hair that she dyed her own hair blonde, and mistaking Veronia’s royal crest for a pretty tattoo, had copied and inked it onto herself.

Although the woman found by the Finder wasn’t Veronia, there was still one valuable gain:

He had now confirmed Veronia’s face through her memories.

Though Sikar had said he’d be late, the thought that he might actually find and bring back Veronia made me unbearably anxious. Before I knew it, I kept glancing outside.

Kian Blake looked at me with a worried expression and asked,

“Mother… are you waiting for His Grace? Do you miss him?”

Apparently, Kian was misunderstanding, so I improvised a casual excuse.

“No, His Grace promised to buy me something shiny, so I’m waiting for that.”

“Something shiny?”

“Yes. Something shiny.”

Kian seemed deeply pondering what exactly this “shiny thing” could be—because soon after, he created sparkling embers in his hands and showed them to me.

“Like this?”

“No, not that kind.”

I lifted my hand to show him the ring on my finger.

“Like this.”

“Ah… I’ll get you something like this later!”

That’s right. When Kian grows up, he’ll become king—he can gift me anything like this whenever he wants. So there’s no need to say “it’s okay” or refuse.

“Thank you, Kian. You’re truly wonderful in so many ways.”

Kian beamed happily, then cleared his throat awkwardly before returning to reading the book in his hands.

No matter how many times I look, he’s just too clever.

Once again, I unconsciously gazed out the window. It seemed my eyes would keep drifting outside until Sikar arrived today.

Then, I saw one of the gatekeepers running urgently toward the house. Had Sikar arrived?!

I went to the front door with a welcoming expression. But I felt a chill from the gatekeeper as he panted his way in.

“Huff… huff… My Lady… My Lady.”

“Yes. Speak. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“L-Lord Reidox. The, the Marquis has arrived.”

Reidox? Suddenly?

After what had happened, his sudden visit to the ducal manor felt ominous.

Could it be… did the Death Knight incident traumatize the twins? If he’s come to confront us about the twins, how will I apologize?!

“W-what should we do, My Lady? Sh-should we open the door for him?”

Though anxious, I had no choice. I sighed deeply and reluctantly gave permission.

“Yes. Quickly, let the guest in.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

Surely he wouldn’t say things have broken down so badly that he can no longer care for our Kian?

As I paced nervously in place, I saw Reidox striding firmly toward me.

At a glance, his eyes were sharply narrowed.