In the end, the group was escorted to the dungeons of Duskwood Castle, where they were left to "settle in" quietly. An investigation into the injured mercenaries who had clashed with the watch soldiers revealed that they were indeed nothing more than ordinary hired blades, belonging to a guild called the Red Tiger Mercenaries. They had simply taken on a contract to escort the so-called merchants in the carriage to their destination, knowing nothing of their true identities or motives. After questioning them briefly and confirming that they had no information to hide, Black compensated them for their injuries and sent them on their way. But he had no intention of showing the same leniency to the remaining "merchants."
In fact, after having them brought back to the castle, Black was surprised to discover that among the group was a young boy—no older than ten years old.
What kind of merchant caravan travels with a child that young?
That was far from the only red flag. Both Black and Ophelia had noticed that during the confrontation with the watch soldiers, the so-called merchants had behaved nothing like proper traders. As the saying goes, merchants make their money by keeping the peace—they avoid trouble at all costs, resolving disputes quietly behind closed doors whenever possible. They certainly wouldn't have proclaimed their innocence with such stiff, clumsy rhetoric. And judging by their rigid postures and stern expressions, they looked far more like soldiers than merchants.
"I'm afraid you'll have to make yourselves comfortable here for a while," Black said with a smile after the so-called merchants were locked in their cells.
"Once we've thoroughly investigated your backgrounds, we'll decide how to proceed."
"Honored sir, we truly were not smuggling any contraband!" The same man who had spoken up earlier stepped forward to the iron bars of the cell, his voice filled with anxious desperation as he stared at Black.
"We swear it on our honor! If you don't believe us, we can—we can—"
His face turned bright red as he stammered, clearly completely out of his depth when it came to negotiation. Black couldn't help but shake his head inwardly. Really, if you're going to pretend to be a merchant, at least try to act like one! Stammering and blushing like a schoolboy when you try to bargain—you might as well have a sign hanging around your neck that says "I'm suspicious"!
"—If you want money, we can give you money!" The poor man finally blurted out after a long, awkward pause.
Black didn't so much as crack a smile at that, but Ophelia, standing behind him, let out a soft giggle. In all her years, she had met plenty of cunning, scheming merchants and politicians—but never one this "honest." Offering a bribe so directly, so clumsily, without a hint of subtlety—it was almost endearing.
"We can discuss that matter later," Black said, his expression remaining unchanged as he turned to leave. He was already certain that these men were hiding something. With a gesture, he summoned Charlotte, who stepped forward silently to await his orders.
"They're in your hands now. Report to me immediately if anything unusual happens."
"Yes, my lord."
The men in the cell had already lowered their heads in defeat, resigned to their fate—until they heard the spirit maid's voice. At the sound, they all snapped their heads up in unison. When their eyes fell on Charlotte's face, every single one of the so-called merchants froze in shock, their eyes widening in disbelief. The leader of the group threw himself at the iron bars, gripping them tightly as he shouted at the top of his lungs:
"*Young Lady!*"
Black and Ophelia, who had been about to walk away, paused mid-step, turning back to stare at the men in the cell—then at Charlotte, completely baffled by what was happening. The men paid them no mind whatsoever, their attention fixed solely on the spirit maid as they clung to the bars.
"Young Lady! What are you doing here?! Where is Kuris?! How is our family? Please, speak to us! Young Lady! Tell us what happened!"
Charlotte blinked in confusion at their outburst, looking nervously at Black beside her. That small gesture was enough to send the leader of the group into a rage. He spun around, his eyes blazing red as he glared at Black.
"Who are you?! Tell me! Why is the Young Lady here?! What have you done to her, you bastard?!"
"I think you've made a mistake," Black replied calmly, his expression never wavering despite the man's furious outburst.
"She is my subordinate, Charlotte… not this 'Young Lady' you speak of."
The man refused to believe him, shaking his head violently as he stared at the spirit maid beside Black, his jaw clenched tightly.
"No! No! I know it's you! You're definitely the Young Lady!"
With that, he reached behind him, grabbing the young boy from his companion's arms and shoving him forward to the iron bars.
"Young Lady! Do you remember him?! This is Master Rigel, your little brother! Young Lady, we've come back for you!"
"I'm truly sorry, gentlemen," Charlotte said, lowering her head slightly and bowing to them politely, ignoring the man's desperate pleas.
"I don't know any of you. I am Charlotte, Lord Black's maid—not this 'Young Lady' you're looking for. I think you must have mistaken me for someone else."
"No! You *are* the Young Lady!" The man shouted, overcome with emotion. He reached out through the bars, trying to grab Charlotte's wrist—but the spirit maids were far from ordinary. The moment the man moved, Charlotte stepped back nimbly, out of his reach.
"Young Lady! Please, you have to tell me! How is the family? How is the old patriarch? Why are you working as a maid in this godforsaken place?!"
"Let's go," Black said decisively, deciding it was time to leave before the situation spiraled further out of control.
"Charlotte, you come with me. I'll assign someone else to take over your duties here."
"Understood, Master."
Black let out a long sigh as they walked away from the dungeons, completely unprepared for this unexpected turn of events. He had already guessed the men's identities. When he had purchased the bodies of the spirit maids from the Grey brothers, they had specifically mentioned that one of the corpses had belonged to a nobleman's daughter, accompanied by two of her maids. Their timely deaths had filled the final slots in his plan—otherwise, finding ten female corpses in three days would have been no easy feat. At the time, Black had felt a twinge of unease about taking a noble's body. Unlike commoners with no family or connections to speak of, nobles were always trouble. If her family ever came looking for her, it would be a huge headache to deal with.
But he had figured that Duskwood would take months—if not years—to develop into a proper territory. By the time it became a force to be reckoned with, any trouble stemming from this would have long since been forgotten. Besides, she was just a maid now—surely no one would recognize her.
He never could have imagined that this would happen.
From the men's reactions, it was clear that they had known the original owner of Charlotte's body. He had bought the corpse from a territory near Duskwood, and judging by the men's travel route, they had been planning to pass through Duskwood on their way to that very same region. The connection between the two was undeniable.
"My lord… about this matter…" Ophelia said, looking at Charlotte beside them with a puzzled expression. She had always been slightly curious about how Black had managed to find so many suitable girls in such a short time. But that didn't mean she believed the men's wild claims. She had observed the spirit maids closely—their skills at serving others were impeccable, their manners flawless. If Charlotte really were a noble lady, as the men claimed, there was no way she could have mastered the art of serving others so perfectly in such a short time.
"I found Charlotte in the forest," Black replied with a helpless sigh, answering Ophelia's unspoken question.
"When I came across her, she was lying unconscious on the ground, so I brought her back to the castle to nurse her back to health. But when she woke up, she had lost all her memories. She didn't know who she was, or where she had come from. So I gave her the name Charlotte and took her into my service."
Lying through his teeth came as naturally to Black as breathing.
"I always suspected that she must have some kind of background—but I never would have guessed that she was a noble young lady."
"I see…" Ophelia said, looking at Charlotte with newfound sympathy in her eyes. Charlotte smiled back at her gently.
"Thank you for your concern, Lady Ophelia. Even though I don't remember my past, I'm very happy with my life now. I have no regrets… to me, being able to work here, serving the two of you, is the greatest happiness I could ask for."
The master and his maid were certainly in perfect sync.
"But these men are going to be a huge headache," Black muttered, rubbing his temples in frustration. He had originally been curious about the group, wanting to find out their true motives. Of course, he had also planned to extort a little money from them, using the incident to teach Castor and his watch soldiers a lesson. But now, their outburst had complicated things exponentially.
For the first time, he was genuinely interested in learning the truth about their identities.