Two hours before the scheduled hostage exchange, reinforcements arrived, causing quite a stir among the government members who met them, even a touch of panic. Everyone understood why Jorgen had requested a temporary suspension of border security. Even Joseph remarked, "Will they follow orders?" to which Jorgen replied, "They're here; that's evidence."
Next, he immediately picked from the prepared deployment plans from the previous night, which had some similarities but could be adjusted locally depending on the situation.
Jorgen had to admit that Dalia's plan was feasible. If she successfully caused chaos by attacking Mohnitz and drew some of the enemies out of the building before they demanded the hostage exchange, things would be much more manageable. Jorgen could only hope that, regardless of whether Dalia succeeded in attacking Mohnitz, the enemy wouldn't harm her - it wouldn't make sense to kidnap Mrs. Shawl. It would be suicidal to harm her. When the enemy's actions became disjointed due to this concern, it would be the moment for the reinforcements to strike. The irony was that you had to fight with a group of desperate criminals, but the outcome depended on whether they had a moment of rationality.
With one hour left before the scheduled time, Jorgen took Dalia to the rear of a mansion, asking her one last time for her intentions.
"Do you really want to do this?"
"Yes."
"Let me see your hand."
Jorgen held her right hand, slightly lifting it, estimating the angle of the poison needle's injury.
"Don't make any obvious attacking moves. And don't force it. If Mohnitz doesn't come near you, don't approach him either. Regardless of the situation, if they bring you into the building, don't make any resistance. Do you understand?"
Dalia nodded, not saying a word. She wanted to pull her hand back, but Jorgen kept holding her fingers.
"You're trembling," he said.
She was somewhat embarrassed, but not because she was showing unease in front of Jorgen.
"Sorry, I...,"
"I've heard enough of these words yesterday. Since things are decided, just focus on how to complete this smoothly."
Jorgen's statement was plain and straightforward, as if he had never strongly opposed Dalia's rash decision. Perhaps it was his work nature that allowed him to set aside emotional issues for the time being after acknowledging the plan's feasibility. All the complex emotions he had developed towards Dalia since arriving in Darkshire hadn't truly been released but temporarily suppressed, like water droplets sinking into the ground, waiting for the right moment to resurface. But for now, he was only thinking, "Complete everything smoothly."
"If Mohnitz attacks you, run. Don't worry about anything else. Do you understand?" he said. His tone remained unchanged and steady.
Dalia looked into his eyes. This Jorgen, who was delivering a task without emotional involvement, was closer to the Jorgen she was familiar with than the one who had been furious when she secretly met with Abercrombie or the one who said, "We'll be back soon," with a hint of vulnerability. She believed and hoped that in Jorgen's heart, there was still a piece that cared about Althea. If he had agreed to her plan only because he saw its feasibility, then they should never have argued in the first place. She felt like she had glimpsed into the depths of his soul, revealing that he wasn't just a Panthonia replica. She wanted to say all of this, but not right now.
"I'm asking you. Did you hear what I just said?"
"You told me that if I'm attacked, I should run. Don't worry about anything else."
"Including Althea."
"...Including Althea."
"Good." He let go of her hand.
The time had come.
News of this incident had spread throughout Darkshire, and Joseph had to allocate more Nightwatchmen to prevent townsfolk from entering the estate's periphery. Some senators didn't show up, anticipating possible combat, and they chose to pray for the safety of their own homes instead of witnessing the unfolding scene in person.
Mohnitz stepped out of the house, scanned the surroundings, and finally looked at Dalia, who stood beside Elro. He had already been identified by Staven.
"No more nonsense. Let's begin the exchange now."
"You haven't brought all the children out yet," Elro said.
"Do you want me to release all the children first? That's not fair, and I'm not that foolish. Here's the plan: every time a child is released from this side, Mrs. Dalia will take one step towards me. After fifty-four steps, I should be within your reach. But don't think about stalling or rushing. One child, one step. If there's a step backward or an extra step, for every mistake, I'll kill one child," he then turned to the people inside the house. "Come on, the first one."
The situation was dire. Jorgen had to admit that Mohnitz was smarter than he had imagined. By making two statements that put pressure on everyone and now pressuring Dalia at this moment to ensure his advantage, Mohnitz had shown cunning tactics. Each step taken now would mean a potential death, and Jorgen understood that Mohnitz had guessed Dalia's deep concern for the children's lives, using this coercive hint. Moreover, by this method, he could play more tricks as Dalia got closer to him, perhaps even capturing Dalia while still holding some of the children. What was even scarier was that the closer Dalia got to Mohnitz, the less likely she would be to turn back without hesitation.
But now there was no time to devise another strategy.
The first child walked out of the house. He held his arms around himself, looking bewildered and helpless, as if he had been walking in a pitch-dark pit for days. A senator shouted loudly; it was his child. The boy was pushed from behind, and his stiff legs finally moved, slowly walking towards them. He gradually picked up his pace, eventually breaking into an unsteady run.
"What's wrong, Mrs. Dalia? Now it's your turn," Mohnitz said.
Dalia's eyes were filled with hesitation and instability. She was like someone facing a thick fog, unable to see the path beneath her feet, and she slowly stepped her right foot forward, confirming she was stepping on something solid before bringing her left foot forward.
"All right, don't move. Now it's our turn—the second one."
"Jorgen," Elro said, "They'll put Althea last, won't they?"
"It's likely."
"I... I shouldn't have agreed to let you help. This is too dangerous. I have no right to ask Mrs. Dalia to risk herself for Darkshire..."
"Don't say more. Just watch closely and wait for my signal."
"Stay calm, Elro," Joseph said. "As long as everything goes smoothly, everyone will be safe."
"Oh, well," Elro took a deep breath. "It will go smoothly, I'm sure."
These fifty-odd steps felt unimaginably long. Dalia walked as if she were on an ice wall, with precipitous snow cliffs on both sides. One wrong step, and someone would die. To keep her hard-earned calmness intact, she focused on taking deep breaths. Another child emerged. It's my turn to take another step. Right foot, then left foot. No going back. She tried not to notice Mohnitz's gaze in front, and she didn't dare to look at the children coming out either. She preferred to imagine the people behind her, the ones watching her, and most importantly, Jorgen. It reminded her that the first step of the mission was to get close to Mohnitz without any mishaps. Jorgen had helped her so much, and she needed to repay him by not letting her emotions break her. She unconsciously touched the ring on her index finger and quickly put her hand down.
A faint sound of wind surrounded Dalia within the purple mist, and her body passed through the dim glimmers reflected by the airborne dust.
Seven, eighteen, twenty-six.
Forty-one, forty-three. Forty-seven.
Jorgen understood that Dalia had entered Mohnitz's attack range.
Fifty-one.
Fifty-two—
Dalia raised her head and saw Althea just six yards away. Mohnitz had his hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Look," Mohnitz said, "Mrs. Dalia has come to save you. Go back, Miss Althea. Go back to your family."
Althea didn't move. She looked at Dalia with a mixture of confusion and an uncontrollable sense of guilt. She was like a small tree trying to stand tall in the face of an approaching flash flood.
"What's wrong, little girl?" Mohnitz said. "You need to go first."
"Althea, go quickly," Dalia said. She leaned slightly forward, but with extreme caution, not taking more than the necessary step, as Mohnitz's long knife stood upright to the right of the girl's body.
It was at that moment that Jorgen realized he had overlooked something.
He had considered Mohnitz, Dalia, the reinforcements, and all the other elements, but he had failed to account for Althea. She was trapped in a moral dilemma, a victim bearing the burden of guilt—this woman, who had forgiven herself several times, was once again in jeopardy because of her. Mohnitz manipulated the shared sense of responsibility and morality of everyone, converting their emotional bonds into guilt.
"Althea, please go back. They're all waiting for you," Dalia was almost about to take that final step.
"Listen, girl," Mohnitz pushed Althea out; the girl stumbled past Dalia. She turned and looked at the woman who was sacrificing herself, biting her lip.
Jorgen knew that if he didn't react quickly, they would lose. Joseph spoke first, his usually calm voice now a deep-throated roar, "Althea, run over here!"
Althea didn't react swiftly. Mohnitz took a few steps forward, grabbed Dalia's wrist, and with a swift motion, he threw her to the ground. Only then did Althea realize what was happening. She kicked her right leg, but it was too late; Mohnitz rushed towards her from behind, swinging his long knife. She fell to the ground, blood gushing from the side of her calf, soaking the dark earth. Mohnitz bent over her, pinching near her wound. She couldn't scream in pain before he dragged her back, small stones on the ground stabbing into his palms, forearms, and legs.
The failure to consider Althea was the second mistake. While the enemy might not dare to harm Dalia, they had no reservations about hurting the girl.
Dalia propped herself up, saw Mohnitz dragging Althea by the leg back, the cut on her leg reaching the bone, and her own blood staining her right leg entirely red. Dalia understood the situation now. She knew she couldn't let both of them fall into the enemy's hands and made a decision that seemed to be the only right one, albeit rash. If this decision seemed reckless, it was because Althea's blood, pooling on the ground, had clouded her judgment. She stood up, released the poison needle from her right index finger, and walked forward.
Dalia reached out towards Mohnitz. He released Althea, who fell to the ground, and then immediately grabbed Dalia's wrist.
"What's this... a poison needle? I knew you'd play some tricks, but I didn't expect it to be this inconspicuous thing," Mohnitz said.
He removed the ring from her finger and threw it on the ground, then held his long knife to her throat.
"The exchange is complete," he said.
Jorgen didn't have time to ponder their failure. He signaled the undercover operatives and Joseph, ready to do whatever it took to prevent Mohnitz from taking the two of them back into the house and falling into a hopeless disadvantage. He had mentally prepared himself to sacrifice Althea and couldn't afford to consider how the Everlock brothers would react. With the girl now immobilized and Mohnitz's attention focused on Dalia, he needed to find a way to divert his attention, by any means necessary.
"Let her go," Althea weakly turned her upper body slightly and croaked out, "I'll stay."
"Quiet, girl," Mohnitz stepped on her injured leg, causing her to almost lose consciousness from the pain. Then, he moved the knife away from Dalia's neck.
Jorgen was about to give the order, but Mohnitz and Dalia were still too close. He remembered his warning to Dean at this moment: one objective at a time. You can't try to save people while killing your enemies; doing so would be self-destructive. Now he found himself facing a similar situation—unable to rescue Dalia and save the Everlock family at the same time. If he had to make a choice—
Mohnitz aimed the knife at Althea. If he acted against her now, it would divert Mohnitz's attention. But just as Jorgen couldn't determine whether this cruel vision could come true, a gray-brown shadow burst out from the overgrown grass on the side and charged at Monitz—
It was Pick. At this moment, no one could have imagined how this long-ailing mutt, who had been neglected for so long, managed to knock down the nearly two-meter-tall Mohnitz. Its forelimbs stepped on his chest, and it clamped its jaws shut.