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“Um, what should I do?”
As the realization dawned on her that nothing in life was truly without cost, the darkness that had been consuming her seemed to dissipate in an instant, leaving her with a mixture of fear and elation.
For Lyna, it was merely a small act, but for Becky, it meant the world.
The price, however, was something she couldn’t even fathom…
Before she could fully process her thoughts, an unforeseen response emerged.
“Just do your job well.”
“What?”
Becky instinctively questioned, struggling to accept what she had just heard. Lyna patiently repeated the same response without chastising her.
“Just do your job well.”
Hesitant to ask if that was all that was required, Becky nervously licked her lips while Lyna added a stipulation.
“Additionally, you must discover and expose the blackmailer’s plans following the hunting competition, as you are uniquely positioned as Becky.”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Uncertain whether she was dreaming or awake, Becky blinked repeatedly as Lyna observed her.
“Becky.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Be aware that your circumstances might worsen due to today’s events.”
Hearing this, Becky’s eyes widened in alarm.
It was an unexpected statement from someone who had just rescued her from the seemingly unending mire of debt and absolved her of the deception she had used to enter Bolsheik mansion with a single word.
Unable to conceal her confusion, Becky gazed at Lyna, who provided no clarification but merely gestured.
“Do you recall to whom you owe the debt?”
“Yes? Yes. Although it might have been transferred to someone else by now…”
It was typical for bad debt, which the debtor could not repay, to be passed around and ultimately land at the very bottom, where it was collected by any means necessary.
Even as the mansion burned, individuals from the backstreets were already searching for her, so now…
“It won’t take long to trace it back from your last known point. They’ll undoubtedly appear where money is being made.”
“Yes.”
“It’s best to address it now since we’re discussing it.”
Lyna was all too familiar with the anxiety and frustration of being unable to do anything in Becky’s situation.
Lyna was prepared to venture into the backstreets with Becky immediately, but she hesitated.
Had there ever been a situation where her interference had led to a positive outcome?
Holding onto the possibility, however slim, was enough for her to revert to her old ways.
Yet, she had no intention of leaving Becky’s affairs in someone else’s hands.
She knew all too well that if her desires were filtered through another person, they could become irreparably distorted.
She was determined neither to spoil nor abandon this issue.
And so, at this moment, Lyna needed only one person.
A person with luck opposite to hers, Ainar…
“Becky.”
“Yes.”
“Go to Sebastian, tell him I sent you, and obtain four times the amount of your debt. Also, send for a messenger.”
Becky heeded Lyna’s command and swiftly made her way to Sebastian, and about an hour passed.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
Becky promptly replied to Lyna’s question. Lyna was cloaked in a robe from head to toe, and Becky’s shoulders were tense.
It was hardly surprising, as she had been brought to this place on numerous occasions due to her mother’s debt.
‘Lady Graham, let’s approach this politely and proceed, alright?’
By the time she had sunk this low, any sense of shame had vanished.
She found herself in a situation where she couldn’t see even a single step ahead.
However, she had never been treated poorly here, which provided some consolation.
‘Lady, do you know where you’ll end up if you fall any further?’
She didn’t want to recall the stories she’d heard after that.
As Lyna observed Becky’s rounded and vulnerable back instinctively tense, she reached out a hand.
-Thump.
It wasn’t a warm, reassuring touch or a gentle stroke.
It was simply a tender pat.
With just that touch, the tension in Becky’s back dissipated immediately.
It was because the person who had tapped her was none other than Lyna.
That single pat couldn’t erase all the darkness that had clouded Becky’s past.
However, she could now confront and overcome it.
As Becky’s breathing unconsciously steadied, Lyna also inadvertently revealed a faint smile.
Ainar, who stood a short distance from the pair, surveyed the surroundings and reflected on the events that had transpired a few dozen minutes earlier.
A few dozen minutes before arriving at their current location.
When Ainar had returned to the palace and was addressing his duties with his aide’s assistance, his hand began to slow from boredom.
-Knock, knock.
At that moment, a messenger from the Bolsheik mansion arrived with a knock on the door.
The letter contained no pleasantries, only a very simple request.
A single sentence penned in dry, rigid handwriting, far from elegant.
Upon reading it, Ainar chuckled.
‘Since she says she needs me, I can’t refuse.’
There was no explanation, no appeal for a favor.
But for Ainar, it was enough.
Because Lyna needed him.
Before his aide could speak, Ainar announced his intentions as he rose to join her.
“I’m going to see Lyna.”
The aide, who had been prepared to intervene if Ainar’s work was delayed, silently resumed his seat without uttering a word.
And now…
Ainar, grinning broadly, accurately targeted the shadowy area where he sensed a presence.
Upon noticing those in the shadows tense and crouch under his gaze, Ainar spoke up.
“I’m not certain what’s happening, but it must be something I’m needed for.”
The location they reached after navigating the intricate and complex alleyways, where even a regular visitor could easily become lost, appeared so desolate that not even a single ant would pass through.
It seemed like such a perilous place that even a passing monkey would find it intimidating.
“It’s not as dangerous as it appears.”
Ainar’s eyebrows rose at Lyna’s confident assertion.
“That’s a familiar tone.”
“It’s a place I visited frequently before I died. This area is managed in its own way, whether you call it supervision or control. In any case, they never target those who seem to be not causing trouble and suffering. Well, they have their own methods for identifying such individuals.”
At Lyna’s rather detailed and lengthy response, Becky listened intently with a puzzled expression, and Ainar nodded.
“I asked an obvious question.”
If the heir of Bolsheik had been executed in public, she must have committed a grave offense.
He hadn’t heard the full story, but it seemed quite plausible when he considered the last moments she had mentioned before traveling back in time.
Naturally, only the two of them could comprehend and accept this explanation.
Becky was merely floundering in a sea of confusion.
Could it be because she hadn’t been serving the Bolsheik family for generations or not attending to the young lady for an extended period?
She never imagined that the young lady would be so familiar with the backstreets’ inner workings.
‘And death… I must have misheard, right?’
Feeling disoriented by the confusion, Becky saw Lyna attempting to open the door marked with human handprints and instinctively leaped towards it.
“I’ll do it!”
Her urgency and desperation seemed as though she would willingly take a sword strike instead, which caused the typically expressionless Lyna’s eyes to blink a bit more rapidly.
Becky realized she had raised her voice too much, but she whispered softly while gripping the door handle.
“I was told to do my job well. So I’ll do my best to serve the young lady.”
Seeing her rounded shoulders appearing somewhat resolute, Lyna chuckled.
“Alright, open the door.”
Upon Lyna’s command, Becky promptly pushed open the door to a place she never wished to visit again.
-Creak.
The musty air inside, accompanied by the creaking sound of the old hinges that scratched not only their ears but also their nerves, wafted past their noses.
It wasn’t a pleasant odor, but none of the three grimaced.
Becky entered the dimly lit interior first, followed by Lyna, and finally, Ainar closed the door.
Once they adjusted to the cheap liquor smell that assaulted their nostrils.
“It’s not business hours.”
A man suddenly appeared from within.
The man, holding a glass of liquor, glanced at the trio with their hoods pulled up but didn’t seem to disregard or chase them away, despite his words.
Leaning against the door, Ainar noticed all the people they had arranged; this couldn’t be a coincidence.
No, it wasn’t a coincidence; if they made a wrong move…
A terse voice interrupted the man’s thoughts.
“Is Baldy here? Call him.”
The man who had been looking at Ainar quickly shifted his gaze to Lyna.
It was because of the word ‘Baldy’ that she had uttered.
There was only one person with a bald head to be found here.
The most cunning, the most ruthless, and thus the character who had survived for a long time and gained power in the backstreets.
And those who can call such a bald person “baldy” are only those with a status or power high enough that when they call the bald person “baldy,” the bald person would have to laugh and bow his waist.
And among those who knew ‘Baldy’…
“Step aside.”
Before the man could speak, a much louder voice resounded from behind him.
The short-haired woman bowed deeply toward Lyna.
“I’ll guide you inside.”