The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 50

“My patron, yes. He recognized my talent and has nurtured me until now.”

 

“I hate to say this, but even if someone’s your benefactor, it’s best not to get too deeply involved.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

Shailoh gripped the doorknob tightly, barely managing to keep her expression in check. A cold sweat trickled down her back. Had he followed her and somehow figured out Caleb’s true identity? The thought made her blood run cold. But the answer that came was simple.

 

“He just seems to have a lot to hide.”

 

“To hide?”

 

“On the surface, he runs charities and deals only in licensed goods, but I’ve heard rumors he’s involved in less savory businesses behind the scenes, smuggling illicit liquor and other unsavory businesses. There’s talk that he’s been expanding his influence through violence and aggression.”

 

Shailoh blinked slowly. She knew he mainly dealt in luxury goods, gold-trimmed cigarette cases, frames made by craftsmen, cigarettes made with peacock feathers attached, all to win the favor of the upper class and make it easier to enter high society. “Is that true?”

 

When she asked seriously, Wyson hesitated, stepping back slightly. “There’s no concrete evidence. It’s just rumors going around. Still…”

 

“So there’s nothing solid to back it up.”

 

There were people who resented Caleb, the foreigner who had suddenly risen to prominence with his keen business sense. Deciding not to make a big deal of it, Shailoh turned away.

 

“I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character, though.”

 

“…”

 

“Despite appearances, he gives off a cruel impression. He’s the type who won’t hesitate to use any means necessary to achieve his goals. That’s why you shouldn’t get too deeply involved…” Wyson’s passionate speech dwindled under Shailoh’s cold gaze. Eventually, unable to meet her eyes, he apologized. “I spoke out of turn.”

 

“It’s fine. Thank you for your concern. But from now on, I’d rather not hear baseless rumors.” Shailoh replied curtly, masking her irritation, then opened the door and left.

 

* * *

The most luxurious, most secretive place in the kingdom. The opium den, hidden underground behind several doors, was thick with the haze of hookah smoke. Even here, at the very back, in front of a space veiled with damask fabric, several bodyguards stood guard.

 

Inside, there was only one guest. Women draped in sheer fabrics flirted with a man sprawled out on dozens of cushions like a king from the Eastern Continent.

 

“Mmm, Milord. I heard you got engaged recently. Are you sure it’s alright for you to keep coming here?”

 

“Engaged? She’ll be my wife soon enough, but that woman’s nothing more than a hostage. She’s stiff, doesn’t know how to flirt or please a man. I thought I’d have a taste, but all I got was a slap across the face.”

 

“My goodness! How could she treat her soon-to-be husband like that? She should just obey and submit, no questions asked.”

 

“Exactly. That’s why I much prefer gentle, obedient women like you.” The man took a deep drag from the opium-filled hookah, letting the sensation of his body growing languid wash over him as he gazed up at the ceiling. “Ha… Now this is freedom. All that talk about dignity and principles—strip it all away, and everyone’s the same underneath.”

 

“Do you really believe that, Milord?”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

The man grinned and slapped the prostitute’s backside. The women burst into giggles and pressed even closer.

 

The man was a regular here. An addict, a brute who’d hit a woman when he was angry, a complete piece of trash. But he was handsome, dressed in fine clothes, and the money he spent each visit far outstripped that of any other noble who came through these doors. There was no doubt he was a high-ranking noble. If they played their cards right, maybe they could change their fate.

 

“Then will you take me as your mistress?”

 

“Me too! Please take me away from this place. I’ll treat you so well.”

 

The man exhaled a long plume of smoke and burst into a satisfied laugh at their eager pleas. “I’d love to take all of you with me, but it’s not that the old thing is so picky. Right now, it’s just not possible.”

 

“Are you talking about your father?”

 

At the obvious question, the man shook his head. “My father? That old bastard’s practically on his deathbed. My mother’s the one who runs everything now.”

 

“So you don’t have any power at the moment?”

 

The pleasant mood vanished in an instant. The man’s face changed, and the women fell silent.

 

“What did you just say?”

 

“I mean…”

 

“I asked what you said, you fucking bitch!”

 

“Kyaa!”

 

With a rough hand, the man grabbed the woman by the hair, stood up, and threw her to the floor. The other prostitutes, terrified out of their wits, clung to his pants and tried to stop him.

 

“Mi-Milord! Please, calm down.”

 

“Rosa was just—”

 

“Shut up! How dare you filthy whores lay a hand on me! Want to end up buried with her?” The man shook off the women clinging to him, his bloodshot eyes rolling wildly. Staggering, he rummaged through his inner pocket and pulled out a gun.

 

“P-Please, Milord, spare me!”

 

“Please, spare us!”

 

The women’s faces went pale with shock and terror. The fallen prostitute squeezed her eyes shut. But instead of the gun firing, a sharp voice cut through the air.

 

“What’s this? I told you not to let anyone in—” The man, shaking off the hands that held him, spun around. He looked ready to throw a punch, but stopped short when his eyes met the newcomer’s.

 

“Hello, Albert.”

 

A faint scent of bergamot. Platinum-blond hair that stood out even in the dimness. Turquoise eyes that radiated a chilling aura. He’d never seen this person before, yet there was something eerily familiar about him.

 

Albert frowned, about to demand an explanation, when a powerful kick slammed into his solar plexus. “How do you know my name—ugh!”

 

“Really? You don’t even recognize my face? That’s disappointing.”

 

Pain radiated from just below his chest, and Albert rolled across the floor. The kick had been so hard, he could barely breathe. As he gasped for air, the man clicked his tongue and lifted Albert’s chin with the tip of his shoe.

 

“You bastard, how dare you!” Even with blood rushing to his head, Albert’s vision burned red with shock and humiliation. “Do you even know who I am?!”

 

The man didn’t even flinch. His eyebrow didn’t so much as twitch. With a calm wave of his hand, he motioned for the women hovering anxiously to leave the room. Only after the two of them were alone did he finally respond.

 

“Of course I know. Queen Ingrid’s son. The Third Prince, Duke Cornwall. I even called you by name just now—Albert. Have you gotten even dumber in the meantime?”

 

“T-That way of speaking…” The shock gradually cleared the opium haze from Albert’s mind. He stared at the man in stunned silence for a moment, then shook his head. “No way.”

 

It couldn’t be. This was someone he’d planned to kill when the time was right, all under strict surveillance. Someone who would die in a staged accident as soon as Albert became king, leaving no loose ends. That’s why, when the chaos at his own engagement party had startled him, he’d assumed it was either Count Dwibon’s own scheme or a trick by the first prince’s faction, who’d been keeping quiet until now. He’d been told the second prince was still under watch.

 

But to show his face so brazenly like this? Not even in his wildest dreams had he imagined such a thing. What kind of lunatic would do that?

 

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? I even gave you a friendly warning in advance.”

 

“That’s impossible.”

 

“You didn’t believe me. No wonder you keep coming to places like this, even with bodyguards posted outside.” Caleb moved his foot away and sat down heavily on the bed where Albert had been sprawled just moments before.

 

Albert managed to prop himself up, glaring at him through the haze as his lips parted. “So you really are… Caleb…?”

 

“Calling me by name and dropping all honorifics? How rude of you, little brother.”

 

“All you ever did was see my face a few times as a kid. Drop the act like we’re close.”

 

Albert pushed himself up against the wall, glancing around as if to check the situation outside. No matter how he thought about it, something was off. He’d been enjoying himself with four bodyguards stationed outside. For someone to figure out he was here, slip past all four guards, and threaten him like this—it was unbelievable.

 

As if he’d read Albert’s mind, Caleb’s lips curled into a crooked smile. “Your bodyguards are asleep right now. I slipped something into their water before I came in.”

 

At Caleb’s calm words, Albert clenched his fist where it couldn’t be seen. His temples throbbed with a rapid pulse. His mouth went dry, and his vision swam.

 

“How insolent. Caleb Alexander Lancaster, my older brother, Duke of West, is not here right now. I don’t know what sort of imposter you are or where you appeared from, but how dare you—”

 

“John, Felix, Gordon. Those were the names of the watchdogs Queen Ingrid sent to keep an eye on me, right?”

 

“…”

 

“It took me quite a while and a lot of trouble to win them over.” Caleb, having shot down Albert’s denial in one blow, fell silent as if waiting for a response.