"Sylvesta."
A middle-aged woman stood not far behind the door, walking both dignified and elegantly towards my desk. The stiff expression on her face made those lip lines look so straight without the slightest arc. My back straightened, and my feelings raged. My palms and fingers were wet with inexplicable cold sweat.
"Meet Mr. Tibelt in his room. Now."
I'm confused. "What business did Mr. Tibelt call me for while I worked under your leadership, Madam?"
My division leader still faithfully gave me a flat look, then whizzed for a while as she turned around and retorted, "I don't know. It's just that, as a fellow division leader, he asked me to call you to his room. Now, Sylvesta."
In order to ease the uncomfortable atmosphere, I obeyed her orders immediately while continuing to think about the reason behind Mr. Tibelt's motive for calling me to his room. I have never dealt directly with that man since I first set foot here until now. I have never had any dealings with members or even leaders from other divisions in the department. One thing that never changes: division leaders only deal with fellow division leaders, their division members, and/or department assembly chairmen. Then what? What made Mr. Tibelt—a man I didn't even know his full name and other identities—want me to meet him in privacy?
"Come in," replied someone behind the door of the taxation division leader that I had just knocked on. I held the doorknob with trepidation and then opened this huge door.
"Please sit down, Miss Sylvesta."
I covered my nervousness as much as I could, then sat down on one of the sofas located quite far from Mr. Tibelt's desk. I looked back at him confidently, constantly suggesting to myself to keep the best attitude possible, at least until I got out of this room.
His eyes narrowed, looking like he was judging me. The corners of his lips were raised, which did not make me comfortable at all. It had only been a minute since I had been in his room, but my mind was already screaming for an immediate exit and away from this man.
"I heard a lot about you from Madam Macroné, Miss Sylvesta," he said as he stood up from his chair. In my heart, I shouted that he shouldn't bother to come up to me because I didn't want to get closer to him either. "You are one of her subordinates who contributed the most in the audit division. And also the youngest."
"Thank you," I responded modestly. The last sentence he said inexplicably offended me, but I refrained from commenting.
I didn't pay close attention to the nonsense-filled sentences that came out of his mouth and more closely observed his extraordinarily well-groomed appearance for the size of the taxation division leader. His hair, which began to turn white and thin, was combed until it was slippery. His round glasses perched on the bridge of his crooked nose. The clothes he wore seemed to show that he was not only the taxation division leader but one of the noble in this city—at least the lowest second-class nobleman—who was made of silk, the best quality, embroidered with gold. I don't know if this man is indeed a Baron or maybe a Count, or if he is just stylized as if he wants to be considered as such.
"If I may ask, how are your parents, Miss? Are they okay? From what I heard, Madam Macroné told me that your parents are not in this city right now. Is that true?"
My forehead wrinkled, but I still answered as it was. "That's right, Sir. One of the two is the head of Slyal Merchant's entourage, so it's only natural that they can't stay in one city for long."
Mr. Tibelt seemed to nod enthusiastically. I don't know what's going through his head, he seems to like the stories about my parents' backgrounds. The corners of his lips were even raised until they were almost parallel to his ears.
"Slyal Mechant?! My wife and my eldest daughter come to them very often! Almost all the jewellery they had was bought from there! No wonder I feel familiar with hearing that name. Slyal ... Sylvesta! It turns out that the head of the Sylvesta family is the owner of Slyal Merchant! Hahaha!"
I shook my head lightly but chose not to say anything, letting the man come to the conclusion he wanted. After laughing for nearly five minutes and repeating similar words, he sat back in his chair and looked at me with the same smile I had when I first walked into this room.
"I heard their group is on Avon Hill to Eadler Dis right now," he said, which successfully made my sitting posture change to be more upright than before. He didn't continue saying it right away, looking excited to observe the change in my complexion. "Have you heard it, Miss, that many people who were passing through there, especially merchants, were taken hostage by the bandits in that border area? Our members from the taxation division also started receiving complaints from local residents asking for coverage to have the payment limit extended. They, those bandits, began to get out of control, it seemed. They began to be indiscriminate and took part in seizing the property of local residents, as well as the property of passing tourists."
The news is familiar to my ears. At first, I didn't accept that my parents had to travel all the time because I was afraid that they would become victims in such vulnerable areas. However, my father tried to calm my anxiety by telling me that he would always protect my mother and the other merchant groups if the bandits got in their way.
"I didn't mean to scare you, Miss Sylvesta," said Mr. Tibelt again. He turned sideways, looking at the beautiful panorama that stretched out behind the large windows in his room. He turned around again, this time while flipping through the stack of papers on his desk. "With that information, at least I hope you will be more careful in the future. Indeed, such crime cases are more prevalent in western areas, especially in border areas, but who knows if they start to spread and move all the way here?"
I nodded in understanding. After throwing a few more pieces of sentences, someone knocked on the door of Mr. Tibelt's room. A man who might have been his subordinate walked into the room, handing him a stack of papers on the other side of the desk. The two men talked for a while in a low tone, before finally Mr. Tibelt let me out.
"Miss Sylvesta," Mr. Tibelt exclaimed as I was about to open his room door. I just turned my head, deliberately not taking my fingers off the doorknob. "Don't let the information I told you just now make your work performance decrease just because you are busy worrying about your parents. It's too much trouble to have to hear Madam Macroné's nagging."
I could only nod, then quickly walk away from his room without seeming rushed or hurried. In my heart, I agreed to his advice. But on the other hand, I also couldn't shake the unanswered wonder from my head.
What right does he have to worry about me if he is nobody?
After all the things that happened this morning, everything went back to normal. I can go home on time today. But before going home, I took the time to buy something for dinner.
In the market, when the sun is about to set, it is common to find security soldiers in every corner of the market who are changing working hours with their colleagues. Their post is no farther than a hundred steps west. Therefore, it is not strange if this market becomes their gathering place after work. Today also seemed like that, but I noticed a little peculiarity. The expressions and atmosphere between them were more tense than usual. And they look more silent than usual too.
"... Don't, who will be here then?"
"..."
"Say I'm a coward, but Master told me to do so!"
I heard Edmund's voice among the crowd of security soldiers standing with their backs to the rows of vendor stalls. After getting some change from the bread I bought, I slowly approached Edmund who seemed to be still arguing with his colleague.
"Fine, whatever. I'm leaving."
Seeing Edmund parting with his colleagues with an annoyed expression, I slowly walked up to him. Even when he saw me, Edmund still looked angry, an expression I rarely saw in his annoying figure.
"They called me a coward just because Master told me to stay on guard here no matter what happens until he comes back," he replied when I asked him what made him so upset.
Instantly, I became alert. "What's going on out there?"
Edmund seemed hesitant to answer my question on this one, but he still replied in a whisper, "Bandits, attack the border area not far from our post."
I wrinkled. Although there are still many questions I want to throw at Edmund, this is the only thing I can ask now, "Is there any chance they will come here?"
"Those bandits?" Edmund confirmed. I nodded. "It shouldn't be. I won't call my commander 'Master' if he can't beat back those thugs. Well, you can't underestimate him even though he looks like a good person who seems gentle and softy."
After that, Edmund told me to go home immediately and lock the door tightly. He himself returned to his base after saying the same message so many times that I almost wanted to kick him away.
Because tonight Lynton didn't go home because he was still hide-and-seek with those Onyx, tonight became more boring than I thought. I have nothing to do after eating but enter my room. After reading a few books until I was sleepy, I went to sleep.
°°°
I don't know how long it took me to fall asleep until my overly sensitive ears heard the sound of the door being knocked on. As the knock continued, I opened my eyes forcefully. I walked cautiously, almost silently, then peeked out from the window before deciding whether or not to open the door. But the face I saw standing outside surprised me and I quickly opened the door for him.
He stood there, with one hand hidden behind his back. Observing his hidden hand with a watchful eye, I walked up to him.
But before I could take a step, his tall sturdy body staggered forward, and then he collapsed helplessly. In shock, I could only look at his fallen body for a few moments before finally realising that the hand he had hidden just now seemed to be full of fresh blood that even seemed to be flowing.