TRFS 6

Chapter : 6

“No way…”

“The aide who served Lady Cleora Bern at her side.
My grandfather recorded a week of her life.”

“……”

The Eanok family had served the direct line at their side for generations.

They had shown more loyalty and devotion than any other house—so much so that when the family fractured and everyone fled to save themselves, they alone stayed behind to guard the empty seat.

Eanok’s grandfather was one of them, and he had even served Cleora personally as her aide.

He tried to leave behind a detailed record of where Cleora went and what she did, to pass on to future generations.
That record was passed down through the family and now belonged to Eanok.

“Only the heads of the family are allowed to read the record grandfather left. Most of what’s inside is secret—never revealed publicly.
Especially everything related to the fifteen-year war on the Golden Plains.”

“……”

“Frankly, all the things that child babbled could be lies she made up.
But if she really knew those stories…”

Eanok, who had been speaking calmly, furrowed his brow.

“Then someone must have stolen a look at the record.”

“……”

“And that would make the culprit an insider—someone who knows the record exists.”

“I—It wasn’t me!”

Reginald shook his head frantically.

Very few people knew Eanok’s grandfather had left such writings.

Reginald knew only because his family had served Eisenbold for generations and had managed the castle for just as long.

Eanok ran a hand through his hair and let out a soft breath.

Is there a traitor inside?

No—he already knew there were traitors.

There were probably dozens inside the castle ready to abandon him the moment things turned dangerous.
But that was a different matter.
Anyone close enough to know about the record would also know why the golden-haired, red-eyed child was being sought.
If so, everything would fall apart.

“My lord.”

Eanok rolled his eyes toward the voice calling him.

“Just give the order. I’ll take responsibility.”

Eanok understood what that responsibility meant.

Torture, most likely.
The best way to uncover the one pulling the strings—but to torture a girl who looked so young…

Is that truly something the House of Eisenbold—known for chivalry—should do?

Protect children and women, devote yourself to the nation.

Even if the family had fallen, the spirit could not be thrown away.

“No. I’d sooner—right now—”

“Watch a little longer.”

“But, my lord—”

“There is still time.”

If internal information had leaked, they would never send a flimsy distraction like that girl.
Eanok gave Reginald a sharp look.

“Report everything you learn about the child—every tiny detail.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a dismissive wave telling him to leave, Reginald bowed and retreated.

Once he was gone and the door closed, Eanok sat in silence and slowly shut his eyes.

Those bold red eyes that had stared straight at him rose clearly in his mind.

When in his life had he ever seen eyes that red?

None of the vagabonds dragged in, claiming to be golden-haired and red-eyed, could compare.

If she’s really…

Deep in thought, Eanok’s eyes snapped open.
A dry, mocking curl tugged at his lips.

“Nonsense.”

A dead woman coming back to life in the form of a child?

And Cleora, the last master of the house and the very essence of Eisenbold?

“I must be tired.”

Rebuking himself for such ridiculous thoughts, Eanok shut his eyes again.

Cleora slumped crookedly in her chair, sighing dramatically with a face full of dissatisfaction.

“Were the secrets I gave them not good enough?”

On her way here, she picked out several things she could use as evidence to claim she was Cleora.

In her own era, they had been classified secrets—unknown to the public.

Even the fact that the first lord was bald or that a secret vault existed was known only to a few direct descendants.

But even after hearing that, they weren’t surprised?

“Maybe that woman lied about you?”

Cleora had expected suspicion after revealing such secrets.

She thought they would ask where she learned that information, or demand to know her identity.
But instead, their reaction was lukewarm at best.

From the head of house staring at her with dry eyes, to retainers clucking their tongues behind her as if she were pathetic—they acted as though none of what she said was actually a secret.

In the old days, these butler-nobodies wouldn’t have dared straighten their backs in front of her!
Back in my time, she thought… Old-man energy rose despite her still struggling to accept that she was seventy years in the future.

Bang!

Cleora, still muttering to herself on the bed, lifted her head at the sudden noise.

The tightly shut door had swung open.

“Come.”

The guard posted outside ordered curtly.

Cleora slowly stood up.

Once she stepped outside, he shut the door and took the lead.

His casual rudeness annoyed her, but since she was finally out of that room, she held her tongue.

So where are we going?
Ohhh, did they finally believe me?

Yesterday they had stared at her like a lunatic spewing nonsense—and now this?
With irritation twisting her mouth, Cleora forced herself not to grin prematurely.

Ahead, the guard stopped and turned.

“We’re here.”

“……?”

Where is this?
Cleora blinked at the building in front of her.

It was a detached annex outside the main castle—so old and worn she doubted it was still in use.

It didn’t look like an office or reception room.
Surely not… a torture chamber?

The guard opened the door and shoved her lightly inside.

Caught off guard, Cleora stepped in—and immediately spotted sharp eyes glaring her way.

“You’re here.”

“Took your sweet time.”

“So that’s what she looks like?”

Inside were knights.

Lightly armed and lounging on chairs, clearly treating the place as their personal hideout.

What is this…?
While Cleora tilted her head, the guard spoke behind her.

“I brought her.”

“Good work.”

One knight flicked him a coin.
The guard grinned, bowed, and slipped out, shutting the door.

Silence heavy as the door sealed shut.

Yep. Definitely not here out of kindness.

Their faces practically had scoundrel stamped on them—both men and women.
Cleora looked at the five knights quietly before speaking.

“What is it?”

“What do you mean, what?
We’re the knights you looked down on so badly.”

The brown-eyed knight in the center twisted his lips mockingly.

Ah, so they dragged her here because they were offended?

They’d barely spoken a sentence, but at least one of them was kind enough to explain their purpose.
Cleora smiled pleasantly.

“And?”

“‘And?’ ‘And?’
Wow, look at her. She really just said ‘and’ in this situation?”

A green-haired female knight near the edge burst into laughter.

“You seriously don’t get it?
You think we called you here to offer blessings and life advice?”

“This is why you can’t trust commoners.
No sense. None.”

“No sense? Try no brain at all.
If that thing sitting on your neck was really a head, you wouldn’t insult knights in front of a duke and expect to walk away fine.
Right?”

One started, and the rest followed—each eager to pile on.

Hmm.

Cleora watched the ranting knights with cool indifference.

Someone else might have trembled in fear here.
But Cleora remained perfectly calm.

These people weren’t even worthy of the title knight.

“Subcontracted knights?”

“……”

“So I’m right.”

The knights stiffened.
Cleora smiled sweetly.