novelraw Chapter 178: Talk at the Window
Chapter 178: Talk at the Window
“What I asked you to do was simple. A small job. And you still managed to mess it up. You are… a profound disappointment.”
Wilbur cupped his stinging cheek. They were both third-rank, but Aldrich was an old hand, his power settled deep in the upper tiers. A casual backhand from him left a livid mark; Wilbur could feel the tiny vessels beneath the skin bursting. He hadn’t dared, couldn’t dare, to resist.
“My Lord… I failed!” Wilbur’s voice was rough, choked. “But… the Eden Enforcers! They came out of nowhere! They wrecked the plan!”
It sounded like an excuse, but it was true.
“I didn’t know… I didn’t know the Baroness had ties to Eden!”
If that Enforcer Captain hadn’t appeared with her Black Snake and her prepared arguments, things would have gone smoothly. His plan was clean: trash the Baroness’s reputation on Ascension Road first, cut off her income. Then use the network to dig up her holes. Finally, he—a third-rank—would swing the hammer himself. A third-rank crushing a second-rank alchemist should have been a sure thing.
Who knew the first step would get stomped on by such “official” interference?
Aldrich’s furious eyes cooled a degree, replaced by a harder, calculating glint. He turned back to the window, his gaze on the Enforcers finishing up in the plaza, specifically on the tall, composed young Captain.
“Indeed…” he said slowly, as if to himself. “I didn't expect her to have connections in Eden either. This Captain is new. I had no prior notice of her. The death of that hunting squad… may be more complicated than we thought.”
He paused, his tone softening a fraction, though it stayed cold as stone. “But that is not your concern. I have people looking into that Captain’s background. I want to know who stands behind her. As for that alchemist…”
Wilbur’s head snapped up. A spark of stubborn refusal flashed in his eyes. His lips parted—maybe to ask for another chance, to propose a new plan.
“Enough.” Aldrich cut him off with a sharp wave. “You are done with this matter. Forget her. Your focus is no longer required here.”
He turned, putting his back to the window light, his face falling into shadow.
“I have reached out to associates in the Blood Hall. They… will handle this with more professionalism.”
Wilbur’s mouth opened, then shut. He swallowed the words, the schemes for dealing with the Baroness later. He dropped his head. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Your next task,” Aldrich’s voice came again, now thick with naked viciousness and teeth-grinding hate, “is to help me deal with her. That damned Scarred Woman.”
When he said ‘Scarred Woman,’ the words hissed through his clenched teeth.
Since the retreat from the Botanical Garden, his main focus these past days hadn't been some small-fry alchemist. He’d been burning resources, hunting frantically for that mysterious Scarred Woman.
But her movements were maddening. Every lead was fragmented, temporary. She’d appear in a place, wreak havoc, then… vanish.
Like the most detailed investigation into her appearance at the Garden that night. Every trail related to her simply broke. Went cold. The area would be littered with other people’s battle signs, but never a clear, continuous trace of her.
It was like the Scarred Woman had popped into existence on the battlefield, done her work, and popped back out.
This ghost-hunt frustration, this fury with no outlet, galled Aldrich far more than the Baroness’s petty trouble. It ate at him.
What made it worse was the taunting. Every time he had to drop a cold trail, she’d reappear in the same area and cleanly pick off a few of his investigators. After a few rounds of this, his people developed a real reluctance. They didn’t refuse orders outright, but the corner-cutting and half-hearted work spread. It just fed his hate, this rage with nowhere to land.
But he had a new idea now. A solution. One that required Wilbur.
“...She's just a clever rabbit,” Aldrich said, his back still to Wilbur, voice grating. “Using burrows she dug ahead of time, thinking she can outwit the hunter.”
He turned slowly. His eyes held a faint, dark red gleam, pinning Wilbur in place.
“But…” The corner of his mouth curled up. “A rabbit is still a rabbit. Clever doesn't change what it is. Frail.”
His hand—pale, scarred—rose from his side and suddenly clenched into a fist in the air.
“Crushed.”
He spoke the word like he was squeezing the life from the Scarred Woman’s throat, his face naked with cruelty.
“Since we can't catch her, we stop chasing.” Aldrich lowered his voice, taking a single step forward, closing the distance to Wilbur.