Chapter 285: Was It You?
Monique snapped.
Like, genuinely lost it.
She had always lived by the principle of fulfilling her duties to perfection. Her professionalism was absolute, and her status as a Lazurite was something she never allowed to be casually mocked or undermined.
If Centaurea was the one who did the most work in the Armorless Union, then Monique was, without question, the most devoted to it.
So, when the news broke that she had been grievously injured by a shopping bag—a literal shopping bag, wielded by some random girl—Monique made a silent vow:
Anyone who dared bring it up would pay for it.
Unfortunately for him, Roy just became the first person to step on that landmine.
Platinum knew, of course. She'd heard the story too. But she had the sense not to joke about it in front of her superior. Roy, on the other hand…
He had no idea she'd take it this badly.
To him, it was just a joke. A harmless jab. Maybe she'd grumble, maybe throw a sarcastic remark back at him. That's all.
But when Monique charged at him, wheelchair and all—he realized he had gravely miscalculated.
By the time he tried to stammer out that it was all just a joke, it was far too late.
With both arms and legs in casts, Roy couldn't even twitch to the side, let alone dodge. He could only stare in horror as Monique, with the sheer fury of a woman scorned, rammed her entire chair right into his legs.
There was a crack, a gasp of pain, and then—
Roy passed out cold, slumping back in his wheelchair like a rag doll. The angle of his head said it all.
K.O.
Monique casually adjusted her wheelchair, craning her neck with some difficulty thanks to the plaster wrapped around it. She gave his unconscious body a disdainful look, then spat.
"Next time you want to open your mouth, consider your own situation first. Not everyone here is in the mood for your kind of humor."
It sounded like a warning to Roy—but standing off to the side, Centaurea had the strong feeling it was aimed just as much at her.
With a bitter smile, she called for a nurse to deal with the now-unconscious Roy.
Being the least injured and also the lowest ranked in the room, she didn't really have much choice in the matter.
"So, about those two Darksteels who summoned us here… What exactly are they planning?" Centaurea asked, glancing over at the man lying behind them—still unconscious, still not past the danger zone.
"Does it have something to do with his injuries?"
Just thinking about what kind of monster could do this to one of the Armorless Union's highest-ranking elites gave her chills.
And yet…
A familiar face flickered through her mind.
No way.
There's no way it was him… right?
Then again…
Now that she thought about it, who else could it be?
If she was being honest with herself, there weren't many people who could go up against a Darksteel and win, let alone crush one this badly.
And that guy—Steven—he was definitely one of them.
Biting her lip, Centaurea started seriously considering whether it was time to disappear.
If their connection ever came to light, she might not even get the chance to run.
The only person who knew about their relationship was Roy—and for some reason, he hadn't reported it. Maybe out of spite. Maybe out of fear. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because his own current condition was also Steven's doing.
"…How would I know?" Monique replied gruffly. "You think I wanted to end up here? Just wait. They summoned us for a reason. Whatever orders come down from the top, our job is to follow them. That's all."
Unlike Centaurea, Monique wasn't the type to overthink things.
Her only concern was the mission—fulfilling her responsibilities as a Lazurite. Whatever the Darksteels were planning? That wasn't her business.
Her philosophy was simple: Do your job. Don't ask unnecessary questions.
Guessing wouldn't get her any rewards anyway.
"…Fine," Centaurea sighed.
Honestly, with most of the Armorless Union's upper echelon currently lying in hospital beds, the only ones still standing were those two Darksteels. At this point, they could walk in and announce anything, and she wouldn't even blink.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Just one wall away from the recovery room, two figures sat quietly in a shadowed room. Both wore the signature black trench coats of the Armorless Union, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods.
Seated across from them was a man who stood out like a sunbeam in winter—short golden hair gleaming, his aura refined yet weary.
If Roy had still been awake, he would've immediately recognized the two hooded individuals: the elusive Darksteel executives he reported to—figures shrouded in mystery and authority.
But what would've really dropped his jaw was the identity of the man they were facing.
——The true head of the Nearl family: Młynar Nearl.
A man known to most as a burnt-out corporate drone, spending his days buried in reports or getting chewed out by upper management.
If Roy had seen how even his own superiors now sat like nervous schoolboys before this man, their bodies tense and expressions grim… his eyeballs might have popped out from shock.
After all, Roy had looked into Młynar's background himself.
Sure, there were rumors he had some buried power, but after more than a decade of soul-crushing desk work, everyone just assumed he was harmless. Out of practice. Nothing to worry about.
But clearly, he'd guessed wrong.
"Alright. What is it?"
Młynar didn't bother hiding his irritation.
His face was marked with the fatigue of someone who hadn't had a good night's sleep in years.
The kind of exhaustion that came not from battle, but from board meetings and back-to-back conference calls.
Still, he shot a glance at the two cloaked figures with mild curiosity.
He'd accepted their sudden summons not out of politeness, but because he knew that if both Darksteels were moving personally, then something big had happened.
Something very big.
If it had just been about Zofia getting injured, he wouldn't have shown up at all.
He'd heard about the incident, but since her life wasn't in danger, he didn't pry.
He'd always opposed the Nearl family's participation in that idiotic Major nonsense—Margaret had already paid enough. Maybe this could serve as a wake-up call for the youngest, Maria.
But again, this?
This wasn't about Zofia.
"…Our comrade was attacked. They're in critical condition."
One of the Darksteels finally spoke. The voice that came from beneath the hood was rough and genderless, impossible to identify.
They made no move, gave no hint of emotion. Only cold, steady words.
"There aren't many in Kazimierz capable of inflicting that kind of damage," the other one added.
"That's why we brought you here… to confirm something."
They both leaned slightly forward.
Then, with chilling calm, they asked—
"Was it you?"
The room went still.
Their suspicion wasn't baseless.
In all of Kazimierz's Grand Knight Territory, only a handful of individuals possessed the power to gravely wound a Darksteel.
Running a few necessary checks wasn't just reasonable—it was essential.
"…No," Młynar replied.
His brow furrowed ever so slightly, the lines of long-term stress deepening on his face, but his tone remained clear and unhesitating.
There was a tinge of confusion in his expression, but no hint of guilt.
It was true, as the two Darksteels had said.
Only a few in this land had the strength to take one of them down.
And Młynar—of all people—had reason to cross paths with the Armorless Union.
So yes, their doubt made sense.
But even so—he hadn't done it.
And that was that.
"…I see. Then thank you for your answer," one of the hooded figures said stiffly.
"As a gesture of good faith, we will cease accepting any future contracts related to the Whislash Knight."
They exchanged a brief, silent glance—one that held a note of uncertainty—then nodded.
Without another question, they rose to their feet and offered a formal bow to Młynar.
Then, without hesitation, the two Darksteels exited the room, their long coats fluttering softly behind them.
If Młynar said he hadn't done it, then he hadn't.
He was a direct descendant of the old Nearl line—and that bloodline didn't lie about things like this.
But now that it wasn't him… things had only gotten more complicated.
If it had been Młynar, they might've been able to contain the fallout.
But if it was someone else—someone they couldn't handle?
Then this situation had just become exponentially worse.
"…Keep investigating?"
"No. We wait," the other replied.
"We'll question Third once he regains consciousness. If we've ended up provoking someone we shouldn't have… then we might be dragged into this too."
As they passed through the corridor, their eyes met once more.
There was no bravado between them now—only resignation.
Their injured comrade hadn't said a word about what exactly had happened.
If the enemy was someone powerful, someone with influence…
Then even as Darksteels, they wouldn't dare act recklessly.
In this world, titles meant little in the face of absolute power.
If they wanted to keep living—and enjoy what time they had left—caution was their only defense.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Meanwhile, Młynar also stepped out of the room and took a different path—toward Zofia's ward.
He was still curious.
The question the Darksteels had asked lingered in his mind.
That, combined with the massive black hole that had hung over the city this morning—an ominous sight seen by the entire Grand Knight Territory—left him with a sinking feeling in his gut.
Something big was coming to Kazimierz.
A storm was gathering.
And as he was busy wondering how to protect both himself and his family… he stopped.
Right at the entrance to Zofia's room—stood a boy.
A stranger.
Young. Unknown.
Not even his race could be clearly identified.
But that wasn't what drew Młynar's eyes.
No.
What captivated him—what commanded his attention, like a spellbound trance—was what the boy held in his hand.
It wasn't a weapon.
It wasn't even anything flashy.
It was a half-eaten apple.
Yet in Młynar's eyes, it shimmered with a strange glow—like a relic infused with magic.
An ordinary fruit… radiating an unexplainable, irresistible pull.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
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