Gunmage
Chapter 92: Misunderstanding

Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Misunderstanding

The ground beneath their feet trembled, dust falling from the ceiling as a deep, low roar tore through the night.

In the distance, a building collapsed in on itself, swallowed by darkness and debris.

Mirelle’s expression twisted into a frown.

"What happened?"

Then, realization struck. Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.

"Oh no."

Lugh glanced at her with detached curiosity, his mismatched eyes—one disturbingly human, the other an abyss of shifting colors—reflecting the dim moonlight.

Mirelle’s heart pounded. She had to leave. Now. Before her mother woke up.

Without another word, she sprinted to the window, vaulting over the sill with practiced ease.

"We’ll continue this later"

She called back, her voice steady despite the urgency.

Lugh watched in silence as she scaled the manor walls, her form barely a shadow against the pale stone.

He tilted his head slightly, the motion was too smooth and deliberate, as though it were a decision made by something else wearing his skin.

"What a strange night" He mused.

He moved to the window, his fingers brushing against the cold glass. The touch lingered a second too long before he shut it, drawing the heavy curtains with an almost mechanical motion.

Then, without another thought, he returned to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling, unblinking.

...

Mirelle climbed swiftly, her hands finding memorized ledges. Her movements were fluid and instinctual.

Even in urgency, she maintained her poise, moving with a dancer’s grace. By the time she reached her window, a triumphant grin tugged at her lips.

"Hehehe"

She chuckled to herself as she slipped inside, quickly changing back into her nightgown.

Then—

"Damn. I forgot my brush."

—

Beyond the walls of the main building, concealed in the shadows of a nearby structure, a maid exhaled quietly.

The young mistress had done exactly as her mother had predicted. Had she lingered even a moment longer, intervention would have been necessary.

But something far worse had occurred. The ground still rumbled faintly beneath her feet.

With silent efficiency, she slunk deeper into the darkness, vanishing to deliver her report.

...

Isolde awoke to the tremors.

"You have got to be kidding me"

She muttered groggily, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Then, a shadow shifted in the corner of her room.

"What happened?"

She asked without turning.

"The guards’ quarters collapsed."

"Oh, really?"

She replied, unimpressed.

"And the child?"

"He hasn’t left the room since."

A pause. Isolde’s brows knitted together slightly. Lugh had come home for the first time in a year, and on the very night the guards’ quarters mysteriously collapsed?

She wasn’t naive enough to dismiss it as coincidence.

But right now, she didn’t have the patience for it.

"You handle it. I’ll deal with it in the morning."

"Yes, ma’am."

The shadow slipped away. Isolde sighed, sinking back into her pillows, her irritation dulled only slightly by exhaustion.

—

Morning arrived too quickly for Isolde’s liking.

And her first order of business? Lugh.

It was strange, really. For someone she disliked, he occupied an inordinate amount of her thoughts.

She strode down the manor’s grand halls, the polished white stone reflecting the morning light in cold, sterile clarity.

The air carried the faint scent of incense and parchment, remnants of last night’s vigilance.

The door to Lugh’s room was unlocked.

Of course.

She pushed it open.

Empty.

Her jaw tightened.

"Find him."

The manor stirred like a disturbed beehive. Servants, guards, and informants scrambled at her command, spreading through the estate like searching tendrils.

She didn’t want to believe he had left. The wrapped bundle in the shape of a sword which he had refused to part with, still laid in a corner of the room undisturbed.

Hours passed by. No Lugh.

What she did receive, however, was a stack of police records and drafts of soon to be published articles detailing the mysterious disappearances of Drakensmar survivors in the capital.

Isolde clenched the papers, the rough edges digging into her palm before she tossed them into the fire.

Whoever was bold enough to challenge the Von Heim family was about to learn the true meaning of regret.

Her lips parted to give another order—

But she was interrupted by an urgent knock.

"Come in."

The door swung open, and Lirienne burst inside, breathless.

Isolde’s eyes flickered past her, searching. None of her other daughters followed.

Strange.

"Mum, it’s Mirelle!"

Earlier—

Lirienne had been casually making her way through the commotion when she stopped a passing butler.

"What’s happening?"

"Lugh is missing"

The man answered respectfully.

"Huh? Missing? Have you checked his room?"

The butler inhaled deeply through his nose, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes, my lady. We’ve checked."

"Well, maybe you didn’t look hard enough. I’m going to check."

"Yes, you do that"

The man replied, voice flat.

With a dramatic huff, Lirienne strode to Lugh’s room, throwing the door open.

There he was.

Sitting on the bed, turning a pink brush between his fingers with eerie fascination.

Her steps faltered.

"He’s here after all..."

Then her stomach dropped.

"Where did you get that brush?"

Her voice wavered slightly, suspicion creeping in.

Lugh lifted his gaze.

The moment their eyes met, her breath stopped. It was always like this, like staring into something that shouldn’t exist.

"Your sister left it here yesterday,"

He said smoothly, his voice layered.

Mirelle.

Her thoughts stumbled. Something didn’t add up.

"What time?"

"Midnight."

Her chest tightened.

"She... snuck in?"

"Mm."

"Did anything happen?"

Lugh tilted his head.

"Nothing much. She just taught me about love before leaving ...For some reason she also called me beautiful"

Lirienne’s face burned. Her mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again.

"O-oh. I see."

Then she turned on her heel, making a beeline for her mother’s chambers.

Back to the present—

"M-Mirelle snuck into his room at night. They did... things. And she called him b-beautiful!"

Lirienne stammered, her face as red as a sunset.

Isolde’s expression didn’t change, but an eyebrow twitched.

"Slow down. How do you know this?"

"He told me himself."

The room fell silent.

"When?"

"Uh... just a few minutes ago. He was in his room."

A pause. Then—

"I see... Follow me."

With brisk, purposeful steps, Isolde strode through the halls, her guards in tow.

The corridors stretched long and empty before them. White stone glowed faintly under the morning sun, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Isolde’s mind.

Lirienne trailed behind, her mind spinning.

Something was happening. Something she didn’t understand.

Then Isolde reached the door.

She didn’t knock.

She slammed it open.

"LUGH!!"