The Princess And The Lord
Chapter 1437: Mysterious Corpses II

Chapter 1437: Mysterious Corpses II

It took Fargo a painstakingly long time to explain the new intelligence he had uncovered, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of unease. As the details spilled out, the once-serene air of the glasshouse thickened into something oppressive. The faint rustle of leaves against the glass walls now sounded eerily loud, almost accusatory.

Lucas accepted the stack of documents from Fargo, his fingers tightening minutely around the folder as he flipped it open. His violet eyes, that usually calm and warm, had darkened with each passing line. Wordlessly, he slid the file across the table toward Lory and Fredhardt.

For several long minutes, only the sound of pages turning broke the silence. Then Lory’s voice came, low and edged with a chill that betrayed her revulsion.

"Looks like they used the same method they tried with the Hamilton family."

"Yes," Fredhardt murmured, his tone grim as he flipped another page. "And if it weren’t for your intervention back then, they probably would’ve succeeded this time too." His brow furrowed as his eyes traced the disturbing details laid bare in the report.

Lucas’s jaw tensed as he set his clasped hands on his knee. "I heard about Manuel before... That man lost everything in the dark age War, his parents, wife, and his daughter. So his son was all he had left. It’s no surprise he will do anything to save his son."

"Fortunately," Fargo interjected, leaning back in his chair as though the weight of his revelation didn’t press on him like it did the others, "We had someone inside IHO willing to work with us. Thanks to them, we managed to transfer a few of the bodies back to N.I.M.S.’s secret facility for further analysis."

Lory’s eyes widened as he looked at Fargo. Her voice rose slightly and tinged with shock and disbelief. "Wait, you moved the corpses here?!"

Fargo blinked, his expression frustratingly nonchalant. "Well, how else were we supposed to examine them without the bodies?" he replied matter-of-factly, as if discussing nothing more serious than shipping crates of fruit.

Lory pressed her fingers to her temple, massaging it as though to stave off an oncoming headache. "So that’s how Ethan found out..." she muttered under her breath.

Fredhardt turned his sharp gaze on Fargo, his tone cool and clipped. "How many bodies did you move?"

"About ten," Fargo answered with a shrug, as if it were an inconsequential figure.

Lory’s eyes widened. "Ten?" she echoed, aghast. "And how in the world did you manage to smuggle ten corpses across borders?!"

Fargo’s lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smirk.

"Easy. We just... pressed them together. Packed tight. Like a can of tuna and ship it with an airplane."

For a moment, silence reigned as the full weight of that image settled over the group. Lucas’s "That’s... efficient." Lucas’s mouth twitched slightly, his expression caught between distaste and reluctant acceptance.

He understood the necessity of such measures—this was no time for moral hesitation. Nevertheless, the thought of treating human remains with such cold pragmatism still made him feel a bit uncomfortable.

Fargo, as unfazed as ever, leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "Well, extreme cases require extreme measures," he said, his tone maddeningly casual.

"I know. I’m not blaming you," Lucas sighed. "In fact, I think you did a great job."

Everyone in the room silently agreed. Because, despite Fargo’s flippant delivery, they all understood the reality was far from simple: moving that many bodies out of a foreign country, especially under those circumstances, was no easy feat.

Even more daunting was the fact that the plan had been thrown together in a rush, forced by a rapidly deteriorating situation. There had been no luxury of time, no margin for error. One misstep, and the entire operation could have gone up in flames.

But in the end, there was no other choice. If they wanted a proper, uncompromised examination, it had to be done with their own people, under their control.

Lory finally broke the tense silence, her voice cool but tinged with unease. "Would anyone even notice if ten bodies disappeared?"

Fargo’s expression shifted, his usual mask of nonchalance slipping ever so slightly. His voice, when he spoke, carried a weight it hadn’t before—low and tight with restrained emotion.

"No. Turns out there were hundreds of corpses laid there. The actual number is far higher than what IHO released to the public."

The revelation hit like a thunderclap, the air in the glasshouse growing heavier by the second.

"Shot..." Lory breathed, her composure cracking as the implications settled in. "This is not good."

"Could they be healers?" Fredhardt asked.

"No, I don’t think so," Fargo said at last, his voice carrying an unusual gravity as he leaned forward slightly. "From the preliminary examination, most of the corpses show unusually high bone density, greater mass, and size. These traits suggest they were physically fit, like soldiers, laborers, or at least people accustomed to intense physical work, and we all know healers didn’t need to work that hard cause people would immediately recruit them to their team or Guild with a big sallary. Still and all, we can’t say for certain until we use mana detection to analyze any lingering traces of mana within their remains." Fargo’s explanation hung in the air like a lead weight.

Lucas’s violet eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming soundlessly against the table. Then he spoke, his voice quieter than usual but heavy with tension. "I think I’m more worried if they’re not healers."

Lory’s brows furrowed as she turned sharply toward him. "What do you mean?"

Lucas let out a long, measured breath, his expression darkening as if the thought alone was a burden." Because we already know what they do to all the healers, what their plan for them" he said.

"Based on what we’ve uncovered, we’ve begun to understand the enemy’s modus operandi—how they hunt, how they exploit their victims. That gave us a fighting chance to intervene, to protect potential targets, make a plan..."

He paused, his eyes sweeping over the group before settling back on the papers in front of him. His next words came slowly, weighted with dread.

"But now... this. If these victims aren’t healers—if they’re just random people—then everything changes. We’d have to assume the enemy has concocted another plan, one we know nothing about. Which means..."

Lucas’s voice trailed off, but the implication was as clear as a blade pressed to the throat.

Lory finished for him, her voice tight with unease. "It means we need to re-examine everything we thought we knew."

____________________________________________

___elsewhere__

Somewhere high above Wellington City, in the penthouse of a luxurious high-rise, Sean sat back in a plush armchair, eyes fixed on a massive wall-mounted screen casting a cold blue glow across the sleek living room. His jaw was tight, shoulders rigid, as he studied the footage playing in silence.

Not long after, Andreass walked in, dressed casually in a white T-shirt and khaki pants, a mug of steaming black coffee in hand. Without a word, he sank into the couch beside Ethan, the soft cushions absorbing his weight with a sigh.

"It’s a mess," he said calmly, taking a slow sip.

Sean clicked his tongue. "The cleaners really didn’t do their job right. How the hell could they leave that many corpses just lying there?" Her voice was sharp, edged with disbelief and irritation.

Andreass exhaled through his nose, unfazed. "They probably figured the beast would finish the rest of it for them. Besides," he added with voice maddeningly even, "The cremation chamber has been working nonstop. People around the area have already started asking why the chimney smoke never stopped."

Sean’s eyes narrowed, her glare still locked on the screen. Andreass’s explanation made awful, infuriating sense—and that only made it worse. He could see the frustration radiating off her, but there was no use crying over spilled blood.

After a long, heavy silence, Andreass spoke again, voice low.

"You know it’s been getting harder to get rid of all those corpses—whether healers or the others. It’s getting out of control more and more..."

A chilling quiet settled between them. The unspoken weight of everything they’d done—and were still doing—hung in the air like smoke.

Eventually, Sean picked up the remote and shut off the screen. The room dimmed. He leaned back against the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose in silence.

"You think I don’t know that?" he muttered. "But we’ve already gone too far. There’s no going back now."

Andreass tilted his head, his tone unreadable. "You want to go back?"

The question caught Sean off guard. He folded his arms across his chest, thinking for a long moment, then glanced sideways at Andreass.

"What about you? Are you really okay with all this?"

Andreass gave a lazy shrug, his expression unreadable."What good would it do for me to think like that?" he said quietly.

His eyes dropped, shadowed by something deeper. "When we were given the offer, we knew it would be ugly, and our hands would be soaked in blood, whether innocent blood or not, but in the end, we all agreed about one thing, and that this world would be better without Gifted people roaming free."

Sean’s jaw tightened. He turned his face away, then stood and walked toward the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water, the sound of it unnervingly loud in the quiet room.

Andreass watched him, then set down his coffee mug and followed. He moved with quiet confidence, stepping into Sean’s space without hesitation.

He studied Sean’s face for a moment, then spoke, voice calm but piercing. "Did you have a second thought?" A beat passed before he continued, "Is it because of her?"

Sean froze mid-sip, lowering the glass slowly. "What are you talking about?" he asked, frowning.

Andreass gave a quiet chuckle, devoid of humor. "Don’t lie. You can fool anyone else, even your older brother, but not me." He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Sean’s face.

"She’s one of the Gifted, right? And if our plan works... she’ll be implicated. That’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?"

Sean snorted, masking his unease with a scoff. "Don’t be ridiculous."

"Am I?" Andreass laughed, a low, humorless sound. "Whether she’s Gifted or not doesn’t matter. She’s working with the opposite side. That makes her an enemy either way."

He clapped Sean lightly on the shoulder and turned back toward the couch without waiting for a response.

But Sean’s voice followed him, quieter—almost uncertain.

"What if I can change her mind?"

Andreass paused to pick up his coffee mug, then turned back with a raised eyebrow. "Convince her to betray her own kind?" He stared at Sean incredulously.

Sean pressed his lips together, unable to refute it. Deep down, he knew Andreass was right—she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would abandon her people.

Andreass saw the doubt flicker across Sean’s face and, with perfect precision, drove the knife deeper.

"Besides... isn’t she already married. You really think she’d leave her husband for you?"

A flicker of jealousy darkened Sean’s eyes. His voice came out colder than before.

"Who knows? I’ve never seen him around. Maybe their relationship is a fake, like her name and everything about her."

Andreass smirked—and rubbed salt into the wound without mercy.

"So what? It’s not like she likes you. How many times has she almost killed you now?"

Sean’s face flushed a deep red—equal parts embarrassment and barely restrained fury. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening.

Andreass chuckled at the obvious reaction, completely unfazed. He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes glinting with amused cruelty.

"Oh, come on. Don’t be angry," he said, voice light, almost mocking. "Look on the bright side." He gestured lazily, like offering a casual option.

He gestured lazily, like offering a suggestion he didn’t expect to be questioned. "If our plan works, you can always ask your brother to hand her over to you. Like a pet. That way, she’ll have no other choice but to stay by your side—and you can keep her for yourself, married or not."

Sean’s voice was sharp, cutting. "You really want her to loathe me, huh?"

Andreass raised his mug in a mock toast, smile cold as ice. "Oh, please. She already does."