Chapter 4

　　Thud… tap.

　　The steady rhythm of fine shoe leather and the sharp click of a cane approached at a leisurely pace. A pair of impeccably polished, dust-free shoes entered her field of vision. The sudden appearance of a stranger made the already tense Arlen slowly lift her head.

　　There stood a man, his hand gripping the head of a slender cane inlaid with a red jewel. A gold watch chain glinted from the lapels of his dark blue frock coat.

　　Who…

　　She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light. The man’s face was so striking it seemed to illuminate the dull room. He was breathtakingly handsome, a figure who naturally commanded attention. His hair, a shade of gold that seemed dusted with light, fell across his forehead. In stark contrast to its ethereal beauty, his features were sharply defined and elegantly sculpted. The line of his narrow eyes, set beneath thick, perfectly arched brows, was clear and decisive, and a palpable aura of nobility emanated from his formal attire and ramrod-straight posture.

　　He was, in all, as beautiful and graceful as a masterpiece painting, yet his gray-blue eyes, shadowed as if holding a coming storm, radiated an unapproachable chill.

　　While Arlen’s gaze was helplessly drawn to him, the man did not spare her a single glance. His attention was fixed on the officer who had been tormenting her moments before. It was nothing more than a quiet, steady look, but it was enough to make the officer’s face drain of color.

　　“Y-Your… Your Excellency. What brings you here…?”

　　“Excessive threats only encourage a pathetic form of loyalty. They are, ultimately, counterproductive. Do you not agree that your methods are flawed?”

　　The question, posed in a low, conversational tone, was a surgical evisceration of Langston’s incompetence.

　　“Officer Langston.”

　　The officer’s face turned a ghastly shade of blue as he met the man’s imperious, steel-edged gaze. He stood frozen, his eyes darting about, unable to form a reply. Just then, another man rushed in, breathless.

　　“Your Excellency, what an honor!”

　　The newcomer, wearing a police uniform of a much higher rank, snapped a sharp salute, his hand pressed to his forehead. The five silver stars on his chest glittered under the harsh lights.

　　“My sincerest apologies. It seems my foolish subordinate here let his passions get the better of him.”

　　The Police Chief shot Langston a look that clearly meant, ‘Do not make a scene, and tone it down,’ before bowing subserviently and gesturing for the Duke to enter. The man’s displeasure, however, had not abated.

　　“I find it curious, Chief, that a report has yet to reach my desk.”

　　“Ah… well… that is… the situation at the station today, the shooting… the cleanup has been rather delayed. Haha.”

　　The man’s chilling stare seemed to ask, ‘And what of it?’ The Chief’s feigned nonchalance vanished, his smile wiped clean from his lips.

　　“My apologies. I have misspoken. I will have it prepared at once.”

　　At the Chief’s command, the frozen officers sprang into motion. The moment the stranger had appeared, the entire atmosphere had shifted. The police, who had been menacing and hostile, were now models of deference. Langston, who had treated Arlen with such contempt, stood rigid, his jaw clamped shut as if sealed with glue.

　　Did he help me?

　　His flawless posture. The natural way he looked down upon others. His elegant, economical movements. His confident stride. The dignity and grace that surrounded him marked him, without a doubt, as a high-ranking nobleman.

　　But who was he, this aristocrat with enough power to make the police grovel, who would intervene on behalf of a stranger? Regardless, his arrival had provided a lifeline, a moment to breathe in a situation that had been spiraling into a nightmare. To Arlen, he seemed like a savior.

　　Perhaps…

　　A man who would show such unsolicited kindness to a stranger might be more willing to listen to her than these brutes.

　　“Excuse… me, just a moment.”

　　Arlen scrambled to her feet, blocking the path of the man who was about to sweep past her. He stopped, his posture conveying a silent inquiry. His direct gaze was so intense it felt like a physical weight. It was unnervingly cold, and a trembling breath escaped her clenched teeth.

　　“My name is Arlen Sermont.”

　　She gathered her skirts and dipped into a slight curtsy. A sharp pain flared in the ankle she had injured at the station, but she gritted her teeth and endured it. The man’s gaze, which had been fixed on her, shifted to the Police Chief.

　　“Who is this woman?” Liam asked.

　　“That is, well… she is…”

　　The Chief, flustered by the sudden question, stammered, his eyes darting to the report on Langston’s desk. He squinted, unable to decipher the scribbled cursive.

　　While the Chief was fumbling and nudging Langston, Arlen politely clasped her hands before her.

　　“Since I have given you my name, sir, may I now ask for yours?”

　　So that was the reason for the sudden introduction. He had no obligation to answer, but Liam, well aware that his title was an effective tool for silencing others, spoke in a low, clipped tone.

　　“Liam Evason Crawford.”

　　“…Crawford, you say?”

　　Arlen’s wide, violet eyes blinked, then widened further in shock. Crawford. The First Stone of Stoneburn, the great noble house that protected the throne. The realization that he was not only a complete stranger but someone far beyond her station, someone she had no right to address so boldly, sent a hot flush creeping up her cheeks.

　　“Ah! She is the prime suspect in the shooting incident at Edel Central Station this afternoon,” the Chief blurted out, having finally extracted the information from Langston.

　　Liam’s gaze drifted from the Chief, who was visibly relieved to have produced an answer, and his head tilted slightly.

　　“A suspect?”

　　His eyes fell to her pale, delicate wrist. It was so thin he doubted she could even hold a revolver, yet it trembled, though her hands were empty.

　　“I am not the culprit.”

　　It was then that the small, unassuming woman spoke, her voice clear and firm. The trembling had ceased. Her eyes, meeting his directly, shone with an unwavering light even in the dim station.

　　“It is unjust to rely solely on a witness’s testimony without any proof of gunpowder on my hands.”

　　Liam watched the woman defend herself with such articulate resolve and let out a soft, derisive scoff.

　　“And?”

　　“Pardon?”

　　“I see no reason why you should be telling me this. Is that not so, Chief?”

　　“Ah… er! Yes. That is correct, Your Excellency. Hey… what are you all standing around for?”

　　The Police Chief, nodding servilely like a dog awaiting a command, shot a silent, frantic look at his men, urging them to remove the woman from the Duke’s presence at once.

　　Believing the matter concluded, Liam offered a curt, gentlemanly nod and turned to leave.

　　“Excuse me, just a moment.”

　　Liam’s brisk steps came to a sudden halt. His gaze dropped, landing on the woman’s hand that had seized the lapel of his coat. The police chief let out a silent scream at her audacity, laying a hand so carelessly on the coat of a Duke who detested being touched. He shot a nervous glance at Liam, but the woman, utterly oblivious to her transgression, did not release her hold. The Duke’s eyes, fixed on Arlen, sharpened.

　　“What is it now?” he asked, his voice clipped.

　　“I know this is a shameless request, but as an eminent nobleman, surely you can extend some generosity?”

　　Liam held back a scoff. It was only natural that his gaze lingered on a woman who would speak to him with such audacity, words no one of noble standing would ever utter.

　　“And who might you be?”

　　“I believe I just introduced myself.”

　　“That assumes you were telling the truth,” he retorted. “And I have never seen you before.”

　　A wave of bewilderment washed over the woman’s face, which only confirmed Liam’s judgment: a noble who wore her emotions so plainly was beneath his notice. He added coolly, “I have never heard of a noble whose etiquette involves laying hands on someone without permission. Does that suffice?”

　　“Oh, my apologies.” Startled, Arlen snatched back the hand she had extended unconsciously. A flush of embarrassment burned her cheeks for having committed such a breach of etiquette. “My haste made me impudent. I offer my sincere apologies.”

　　Liam’s expression remained glacial as he watched her offer an impeccable curtsy, the kind one might see at a formal state dinner. He had no doubt she was not worth his time, yet he found it faintly amusing how rigidly she clung to protocol even in a situation like this.

　　“However,” she insisted, “I am truly not the culprit.”

　　Her rosy lips turned pale and trembled faintly as she desperately tried to hold back tears. Liam watched her impassively before speaking with indifference.

　　“She says she isn’t, Chief.”

　　“A jest, Your Excellency,” the chief stammered. “Have you ever known a criminal to confess of their own accord?” He let out a hollow laugh, then quickly composed himself upon seeing the Duke’s unchangingly stoic face. “Let’s see… So, the witness statement says…”

　　The chief mopped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. Grumbling to himself about why the Duke was suddenly so interested in this strange woman, he snapped his fingers for someone to bring the report. In the interim, Liam silently repeated the family name the woman had mentioned. Sermont. As he mulled it over, he finally recalled seeing the name in a newspaper a while ago—the name of a family so insignificant he never would have remembered it had he not seen the article tucked away at the very end.

　　A minor house that had held a noble title for less than half a century. A family other nobles would neither associate with nor even know by name. The only reason it remained in his memory was because the story of how they obtained their title was particularly unusual. Well, now. A flicker of recognition crossed his impassive face, and a glint of interest lit his sharp eyes.

　　“I never expected to see the future Crown Princess here.”