All Jobs and Classes! I Just Wanted One Skill, Not Them All!

Chapter 489

Luna hesitated.

It was subtle, just a fraction too long before she spoke, but Ludger caught it immediately. She shifted her weight, eyes flicking once toward the wall, then back to him. Calculating. Measuring how much to say, and to whom.

She worked for Viola.

But her actual boss was Torvares.

And everyone involved knew that Ludger and the old lord weren’t exactly aligned right now.

Luna exhaled quietly.

Still… she also knew better than most that trying to hide things from Ludger was a waste of time. He didn’t need confessions to see patterns. Withholding information only delayed the inevitable—and usually made things worse.

So she spoke.

“I was told to investigate a few things,” Luna said. “Quietly.”

She didn’t specify by whom. She didn’t need to.

“From what I’ve found,” she continued, “Lucius’ disappearance doesn’t seem connected to the new chain of command in the Empire.”

That made Ludger’s eyes narrow slightly.

“So not the regent,” he said.

“No,” Luna confirmed. “At least, not directly. There’s no sign of imperial involvement. No orders. No pressure trails. No sudden interest from the capital.”

She paused, then added, “If anything, they’re ignoring him.”

That wasn’t reassuring.

“There is a problem, though,” Luna went on. “Lucius’ territory management has become a mess lately. Missed meetings. Delayed decisions. Conflicting orders sent out under his seal.”

She grimaced faintly. “It’s sloppy. And people have noticed.”

Ludger stayed silent, letting her continue.

“It wouldn’t take much,” Luna said, “for someone to make the case that he’s unfit to hold his title. Enough complaints. Enough ‘concern.’ Enough incidents.”

She looked at Ludger directly now.

“He could lose his standing as Viscount,” she said. “And soon. Someone wouldn’t even need to fabricate much. The excuse is already there.”

That settled heavily between them.

Lucius hadn’t just vanished.

He’d vanished at the exact moment his position became vulnerable.

Luna folded her arms. “Which means whoever took advantage of him didn’t need imperial backing,” she said. “Just timing. And patience.”

Ludger nodded slowly.

“That’s worse,” he said.

Luna didn’t argue.

Because they both knew it was. Ludger was quiet for a moment, then spoke decisively.

“Go to Lucius’ mansion,” he said. “Watch everyone there. Servants. Guards. Administrators. Anyone who’s still moving in and out.”

Luna’s gaze sharpened. “You want eyes on the inside.”

“Yes,” Ludger replied. “Look for routines that changed after he vanished. People who suddenly gained authority. People who are too calm, or too nervous.”

He paused, then added, “I’ll stay here. I’ll guard Viola.”

That was when Luna hesitated again.

This time, she didn’t hide it.

Her jaw tightened slightly, and her eyes flicked away for just a heartbeat. Leaving Viola, even temporarily, went against every instinct she had. Protecting her wasn’t just a job. It was the axis everything else rotated around. Especially now.

She didn’t say anything out loud, but Ludger could read the doubt easily.

“I won’t let anyone approach her unnoticed,” he said calmly. “Not with my magic active.”

Wind. Earth. Mana sense. Seismic awareness. Layers upon layers of detection that didn’t rely on sight alone.

“Even if I’m not on good terms with Torvares,” Ludger continued, “Viola is still my half sister.”

His tone didn’t change, but the meaning was clear.

“She can be trusted with me.”

Luna looked back at him.

She measured him, not as Torvares’ ally, not as Lionsguard’s vice Guild Master, but as someone who understood what it meant to protect someone without compromise.

Finally, she nodded.

“…I’ll be quick,” she said.

She stepped back, already fading into the night, presence thinning as her own assassin training took over.

Ludger watched until she was gone.

Then he turned toward the Ironhand building, senses widening once more.

For tonight, Viola would be under his protection.

And anyone foolish enough to test that… Would never understand what went wrong.

Ludger didn’t linger outside.

He crossed the Ironhand guild openly this time, steps unhurried, posture relaxed. People noticed him immediately. Conversations dipped. A few heads turned. Some straightened unconsciously. No one stopped him.

They didn’t need to. By now, most of the port town recognized him, either from the bridge, the rumors, or the very real fact that a massive stone building had appeared near the docks earlier that day.

He reached Rathen’s office, raised a hand, knocked once, and opened the door without waiting.

Rathen and Viola both blinked.

“Wow,” Rathen said, staring at him. “You know, most people wait for an answer.”

“You’ve been talking for a long time,” Ludger replied calmly. “Why?”

That wiped the surprise right off Rathen’s face.

The two inside the room exchanged a look, quick, heavy, the kind that carried more weight than words. For a moment, neither spoke.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Viola broke it.

“We were going over possibilities,” she said. “Different scenarios about what might have happened to Lucius.”

Ludger closed the door behind him and leaned lightly against it, arms crossing.

“And?” he asked.

Viola hesitated, then continued, eyes narrowing slightly as she recalled it.

“One of them stood out.”

Rathen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not a theory I like,” he said. “But it’s the one that fits the gaps too well.”

Rathen was the one who broke the silence.

“I went to Lucius’ manor as soon as I heard he was gone,” he said, voice low, weighed down by fatigue. “I questioned the servants myself.”

Ludger didn’t interrupt.

“They said he didn’t act much differently right before leaving,” Rathen continued. “No panic. No visible fear. No sudden outbursts. He dressed normally, gave routine instructions. If anything, he looked… tired.”

Viola’s expression tightened.

“But,” Rathen added, rubbing his temple, “there was one thing that stood out.”

Ludger’s eyes sharpened. “What?” Rathen hesitated. Just for a moment. Long enough to make Ludger frown before he even answered.

“In the last three months,” Rathen said slowly, “Lucius spent an abnormal amount of time in his office. Locked in. Reading.”

“Reading what?” Ludger asked immediately.

Rathen inhaled, then exhaled.

“Weird books.”

That made Ludger’s frown deepen. “Define weird.”

Rathen met his gaze. “Books on mysticism. Necromancy. Old alchemy. And… legends about the creation of the world.”

The room went still. Viola looked between them, uneasy. Ludger, on the other hand, didn’t say anything at first. His brows furrowed as his thoughts raced, discarding possibilities one by one.

None of them were good. Mysticism meant obsession. Necromancy meant desperation, or forbidden curiosity. Old alchemy meant searching for shortcuts, immortality, or forbidden solutions. And creation myths…

Those were never harmless bedtime stories. They were the kind of texts people read when they were looking for answers that shouldn’t exist.

“There’s no good reason for that,” Ludger said quietly.

Rathen shook his head. “None that I could think of.”

Ludger’s jaw tightened. Lucius hadn’t just been vulnerable politically. He’d been searching.

And whatever he’d been searching for had pointed him toward paths that rarely ended with someone simply walking away unharmed.

For the first time since arriving at the port, Ludger felt something cold settle in his chest. This wasn’t just a disappearance. It was the aftermath of a decision Lucius might not have fully understood, and someone else had been more than happy to exploit. Silence settled over the room as the implication took shape.

Everyone knew what Lucius had been like after his father’s death. He hadn’t lashed out or collapsed publicly, he’d shut down instead. Pulled inward. Reduced his world to routine, paperwork, and isolation. Grief handled quietly, the way nobles were taught to handle everything uncomfortable.

But those books…

Viola was the first to voice it, carefully. “Could he have been trying to bring him back somehow?”

The words hung there, heavy and unwelcome. Eyes turned toward Rathen. He didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring at the edge of his desk as if the grain of the wood might offer a better explanation than any of them could.

“…No,” he said finally. “I don’t believe that.”

Not sharply. Not defensively. Just firmly.

“Lucius was close to his father,” Rathen continued. “Very close. And yes, he was his only family. But that’s exactly why I don’t think he would cross that line.”

He lifted his gaze, meeting theirs.

“Lucius isn’t reckless. He’s not the kind of person who would gamble with something like necromancy out of desperation. He overthinks. He hesitates. He looks for permission even when none is needed.”

Ludger listened closely.

“What I do believe,” Rathen went on, voice lower now, “is that someone fed him ideas. Slowly. Carefully. Not commands, suggestions.”

Viola’s expression hardened.

“Enough to make him curious,” Rathen said. “Enough to make him doubt. Enough to make him believe he was acting on his own.”

He exhaled through his nose. “And then they nudged him off the board.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Clean,” he said.

Rathen nodded. “Clean. No scandal. No obvious enemy. Just a grieving noble who ‘left’ at the worst possible time.”

Viola clenched her fists. “So whoever did this didn’t want him dead.”

“No,” Rathen agreed. “They wanted him gone.”

Gone without a martyr. Gone without backlash. Gone in a way that made the Empire shrug and move on. Ludger leaned back slightly, thoughts aligning with unsettling clarity.

That kind of manipulation took patience. Resources. And an understanding of how to move people without ever touching them.

Whoever had done this wasn’t just removing Lucius. They were practicing. And that realization made the room feel a lot smaller than it had a moment ago.

Ludger pushed off the chair and straightened. His annoyance sharpened into something colder, more focused. Not anger. Anger wasted energy. This was irritation at inefficiency, at the sheer number of vectors his enemies could operate through.

Too many ways in. Too many hands that never touched the knife.

“That’s the part that bothers me,” Ludger said quietly. “They didn’t need force. Or leverage. Or threats.”

Rathen grimaced. “They just needed time.”

Viola nodded once. “The Empire didn’t survive half a millennium after the Split by being stupid,” she said. Her tone was even, almost academic. “The people at the top learned a long time ago that brute force is expensive. Influence is cheap.”

She looked at Ludger. “If anything, this proves they know exactly how to use their heads to get what they want. One way or another.”

Ludger exhaled through his nose.

“I’m aware,” he said. “That doesn’t make it less annoying.”

Because strength he could measure. Power he could counter. Even politics had rules, however ugly.

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