As expected of her most trusted informant, Silver arrived right on time through the half-open window as the morning sun reached its zenith. He let his long silver hair drape over one side of his face, attempting to conceal his exhaustion—a sight that Rosa found both endearing and irksome.
"Start with the Count and Countess Highmore. Where are they?" she asked with a tone of exasperation.
"They are still in the countryside. The Count's business at the port is not yet concluded, and he insists that the country air is better for the Countess's declining health."
"My dear father is such an angel. I wonder who I take after," she remarked sarcastically then cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms wide. "Hah, Silver. According to the Duke, Elara's engagement was a very recent event. If only I had made up my mind to kidnap her earlier."
He frowned. "Don't do this to yourself."
But Rosa still wished she had intervened earlier. It only fueled her fury against the man who was supposed to protect his only heiress.
"That spineless bastard of a Count sold his daughter off to a sketchy Marquess. Why would he do that?" She eyed the jewelry boxes positioned atop an ornate dresser, they were full of treasures and indicated Highmore's true wealth. "They certainly don't seem to lack money!"
"Nobles are greedy bastards," Silver said then bit his tongue and looked up to gauge her reaction.
Her mouth fell open. "...You think this offends the noble blood running in my veins? I'm still your Master who grew up in the backstreets. I despise nobles as much as you do, if not more."
The tension of his shoulders eased as he heard her, and Rosa wondered what had caused Silver to doubt her given their years of loyalty to each other.
"...Tell me what you've uncovered about Elara's fiancé."
His shoulders tensed again. "Not much yet I'm afraid. But we're still digging."
"How peculiar," she remarked. "So, you're saying he's squeaky clean?"
Silver shook his head. "He's just carefully concealing his crimes."
Rosa smirked. "Well then, I'll eagerly await some revealing information. What have you learned so far?"
"Just that he has already infiltrated the Count's manor. One of his spies is a maid here."
Her skin prickled. "The same rude maid from yesterday? The one called May?"
"Yes."
"That confirms it then. May was definitely the one slipping that substance into Elara's drink, but she's working for the Marquess. He's undoubtedly responsible for Elara's death..." But were the two of them actually trying to kill her? "...Do we have any updates on what was in that crystal cup?"
"The experts say it's not something local. It's a substance that causes hallucinations among other effects. They've asked for more time to analyze it."
"Time," Rosa mused, "Time is not on our side, Silver. Elara is a sitting duck here with the Count away and her fiancé sending spies and poisoning her."
Silver wore a guarded expression. "I know you hate it, Master, but maybe it's time we reached out to other information guilds. It could expedite our findings."
He seemed perplexed when she didn't object, and a frown creased his silver eyebrows as she nodded.
"I've been pondering this for some time. Elara must forge her own strength and gather allies. My identity as a guild master is hidden much like the other guild masters, but even directly involving my name in Elara's affairs is too risky." She grimaced, "I'm out of options—I must create the impression that Elara Highmore is receiving information from another information guild."
"Which guild are you thinking of?"
She rolled her eyes. "The strongest one in the kingdom, naturally."
"But Master, the Western guild has been our rival for the past two years. They've managed to steal vital information from us more than once."
"Yes, I despise them too." She glanced at the clock. "Silver, isn't the Western guild's master active on weekends around noon?"
Silver rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes. The only reason that monster is considered human is because he's rumored to walk under the sun in this kingdom."
"Then it's settled. Elara will pretend to go shopping, but the carriage will take her to the Western guild. She'll request an audience with its Master being all ignorant of the backstreet rules. When denied, she'll offer to buy information from the informants there instead. This shall be all the coverage we need to justify how the Count's submissive heiress is gaining strength and information."
A grim expression crossed Silver's face. "I'll accompany you there."
She took a couple of steps towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. As he attempted to adjust his hair to cast more shadow and conceal the bags under his eyes, she flicked his forehead lightly.
"Get some rest. The informants outside will follow, and I'll have the knights accompany me too."
***
The journey to the West side of the capital was lengthy, and both the coachman and the knights were visibly displeased by the deviation from their original plan of going shopping. They adamantly opposed Lady Highmore entering the Western guild's headquarters alone, and their anxiety only heightened as they observed her distress about the prospect.
"All of you will wait here for me. It won't take long," she half-heartedly reassured them.
Turning away from their concerned gazes, Rosa's expression relaxed. She glanced at the roof where figures other than her informants were observing and wondered whether they were spies of the Count or agents of the Marquess. Regardless, their presence was crucial for her plan to succeed.
Covering her pink locks with her white cloak, Rosa cast a final desperate glance at the four knights before she turned and hurried into the motel. She hoped that the guild master had already received word of the Count's carriage parked outside his establishment.
A bell chimed as she pushed open the door. Feigning embarrassment, Rosa approached the only person seated at the reception desk—a middle-aged man with a modest demeanor.
"Excuse me," she fluttered her long eyelashes a few times and then prepared herself for the inevitable rejection that she expected to follow her request. "My name is Elara Highmore, and I am here to request an audience with the master of this guild."
"Welcome, my noble Lady. Our Master is expecting you in the room to your left, at the end of that hallway. Please, allow me to escort you."
Rosa's heart skipped a beat. What is happening? Why was the Western guild's notorious master, the most feared man in the kingdom, willing to meet with her? When she came up with the plan to obscure how Elara received her information, she hadn't anticipated such a thing!
The man studying her surprised expression raised an eyebrow, "My Lady?"
"…Right, please, lead the way," she replied with a small voice that should have belonged to a grateful Elara Highmore. But Rosa's true self couldn't shake off the disbelief; never could she have imagined meeting the guild master who rivaled her own and uncovering his true identity without jeopardizing her own. I'm so lucky!
In a daze, she followed the middle-aged man into the depths of the guild's sanctum. Though it appeared deserted, she sensed hidden watchers in the shadows and felt the silent judgment of informants who might resent their master's face being exposed.
"We're here," the man announced knocking on the wooden door.
"Come in," came a deep low voice from inside.
Rosa braced herself to play the role of a damsel in distress as the door quietly open, but her breath caught in her throat when a strong sense of déjà vu hit her like a wrecking ball.
There he stood in the empty room, illuminated only by an old oil lamp fixed to the wall—the feared master of the Western guild and her ultimate rival. His back was turned to her, his gaze fixed out the curtainless window where her carriage must have been parked. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a white cape that did little to conceal his hair.
No. This can't be happening.
His black hair, tinged with a hue of purple, bore the unmistakable mark of the Dragomir royal family—a trait signifying their ancient lineage and formidable heritage. Her heart raced as he turned to face her, his hazel eyes penetrating through her façade much as they had done the day before.