The hand polishing the sword froze.

Seraph Estin slowly raised the blade under the faint moonlight.
The sharply honed steel reflected both the silver glow of the moon and his face like a cold mirror.
His brows weren’t furrowed, yet the shadow in his eyes was clear.
He remained silent, standing there for a long while.

Short navy-blue hair fluttered in the wind.
The color, deep as the night sky, shimmered mysteriously even under the moonlight, contrasting sharply with his silver-gray eyes, giving him an even more noble air.
His skin was pale but not lifeless, and his jawline and lips were sharp.
Some might see arrogance in his face, yet what surrounded him now was not pride but deep contemplation.

After hearing of Lady Lisa Drenold’s accident, all of Seraph’s emotions sank quietly beneath the surface.
It wasn’t emotion—true feelings would come much later.
The first reaction was doubt.

—Strange.

Sliding the moonlit blade slowly back into its sheath, he repeated it in his mind.

“Are you saying that girl… really fell from the horse? You believe that?”

The Lisa he knew wasn’t someone to fall so easily.
She fought with a composed tone and a steady gaze.
She never lost her balance, never let emotions control her.
Especially when riding—her whole body moved as a single, disciplined unit.

And yet suddenly… a fall?
It made no sense.

Slowly but decisively, Seraph straightened and stood.
His sword hung quietly at his waist.
He draped his nobleman’s uniform over his shoulders with practiced hands and stepped out into the darkness.
His movements were soft yet precise.
Even tonight, he moved in silence.

“Absurd…”

A low whisper slipped from his lips.

The day he heard Lisa had disappeared, he immediately sent a letter to the main estate.
The reply was a bland official document, explaining she was “resting.”
Ambiguous, matter-of-fact words.
No expression that felt like Lisa.

‘Not like you, Lisa.’

He headed to the Marquess House’s knights’ quarters, where those who trained with Lisa had stayed.

Even walking through the darkness, his thoughts never stopped.

“Even if she really fell… why hasn’t anyone seen her until now?”

His purpose was clear.
Politely yet firmly, he would sift through baseless rumors and confirm the truth with his own eyes.
If someone had spread lies—he would make them accountable.

**

“Seraph, what brings you here at this hour?”

A knight opened the door, startled.
It was well past midnight.
Seraph stood amid the fading echoes of the training ground, as if he had just finished training.

“I have a question, if I may.”

“Yes, please.”

“Lady Lisa Drenold. Regarding her accident—I understand you were at the training ground at that time.”

The knight’s eyes widened in surprise, but he seemed to sense the unspoken pressure in Seraph’s gaze and quickly lowered his head.

“…I can’t say for certain… but I heard the lady wasn’t supposed to attend training that day.”

“Strange. She wouldn’t miss training.”

Seraph paused, then added:

“Was there any record of the horse running?”

“No. The stable staff said no one clearly saw anything. Only the main estate servants mentioned bringing the horse back, claiming an accident.”

At that moment, Seraph’s eyes darkened ominously.

“So… no one actually saw it.”

The knight nodded silently.

Afterward, Seraph spoke quietly with those close to Lisa—the coachman, maid, horse trainer—carefully and subtly, not asking directly.

“How was Lady Lisa’s horse that day?”

“Well… I didn’t see it myself… but strangely, I heard the horse was fine.”

Seraph recorded each answer carefully and quietly.
His notebook filled rapidly with dense notes.

On the last page, he wrote a single line:

『If the horse did not run, who pushed her?』

The night deepened, moonlight tracing his ankles as it flowed silently.

He approached not with vague anxiety, but with reasoning and deduction.
That was Seraph Estin’s way.

And at the end of that path—if Lisa were there—
He would be colder than anyone, yet kinder than anyone.

“Was there any problem in the stable that day?”

His voice was low and clear, each word precise as if etched by a sword.

“From what I saw, no, Sir Estin. Lady Lisa mounted her horse as usual, selected her steed as usual.”

A heavy silence followed.
The coachman removed his hat, holding it carefully while watching Seraph’s expression.
Seraph merely narrowed his eyes.
The coachman’s testimony was firm, with no hesitation—too precise, even. That alone seemed suspicious.

‘Everyone’s answers… too consistent.’

The statements were astonishingly similar.
Coachman, trainer, maid, servant—even minor nobles passing by the stable that day—everyone repeated the same story, blaming Lisa.

‘As if someone… had scripted it.’

His suspicion deepened, yet no evidence remained.
Using his knightly instincts, he examined the grass around the stable, the horse’s whip marks, the saddle straps, the bent hooves—though nothing remained now.

Perfect.

Perfectly… nothing.

Seraph tightened his grip on the sword.
The slight creak in his knuckles betrayed how long he had pursued this battle.

‘It’s as if a shadow… swept ahead of me.’

It wasn’t just a feeling.
He was quietly fighting someone unseen, an entity leaving no trace, moving a few steps ahead, covering the path.

“What is its goal…”

Days earlier, the estate reported that some of Lisa’s documents had been ‘stolen’ from the archives.
The caretaker swore no one had touched them.
No surveillance captured anything. The doors and locks were intact.

A few days later, some of Lisa’s training records in the knights’ vault disappeared.
The knights responsible remained silent.

It wasn’t theft.
They were simply gone.

For the first time, Seraph realized someone was deliberately erasing Lisa’s traces.
And it wasn’t a cover-up—it was intentional isolation.

His gaze lifted to the dark ceiling.

“Who…”
He murmured, clear and deliberate.
“…Who touched Lisa?”

But the moment he spoke it aloud, a chill rose from deep within.
Calling a name would trigger the shadow to tighten its grip.
Being the heir of the Estin family was both a shield and a chain in noble society.

Facing an enemy you cannot even name is lonelier and more dangerous than imagined.

Months passed without progress.
Seasons changed, noble society buzzed with new gatherings and marriage rumors.
The story of the Drenold lady going to the villa to ‘rest’ gradually shrank, and Lisa’s name slowly disappeared from conversations.

But one person did not forget.

Seraph Estin.

He hadn’t left Lisa behind. He couldn’t leave himself behind.

“I remember.”

He whispered to himself.
“You didn’t fall that day. That’s not your way.”

Once again, a fresh notebook appeared in his hands.
Dates, places, contacts, missing records…
And on the last page, a single sentence remained:

『There is no perfect accident.』

The first small crack in his relentless investigation appeared one rainy night—
Behind the old stable, from the words of an old woman who had silently watched him countless times.
Only now did she speak.

“That day, the horse… her eyes… they were uneasy.”

Seraph lifted his gaze.

“Uneasy…?”

“Yes. The horse she always rode, that day it had a new saddle.”

“…A new saddle?”

The old woman nodded.

“It was too pristine. No wear from her physique. She hadn’t touched it before, yet it was replaced that day. Knights favor familiar equipment—you understand. I remembered clearly.”

Seraph’s fingers trembled at that brief testimony.

—The first crack.
And the beginning of collapse.

He adjusted his cloak and turned.
He left the old woman with a simple word of thanks.

‘Now… it connects.’

What he needed now were not traces, but the things changed to leave no trace.
And at the end of those clues—Lisa would surely be there.

Comments (0)

Trending Novels

I Became the strongest hero of the previous generation

Archmage on the bed

I was mistaken for an undefeated general

Healers in the martial arts world are obsessed

Became a genius Muggle in the Archmage Gallery

I Wove Earth’s History Into A Fantasy