Chapter 17
‘What on earth just happened?’
Arnulf felt dazed by the sudden turn of events.
Someone had grabbed him by the shoulder — a strong, large hand.
At the same time, his body was pulled forward, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, a warm and soft sensation stopped him.
He froze, struck speechless. No — he hadn’t even been given the chance to say anything.
That fleeting, shocking touch was gone in an instant, separated by the sudden brightening of the lights. Only then did Arnulf realize who had just stolen his lips.
“Sigmund?”
Sigmund frowned at Arnulf’s stunned expression.
“Josef Pomozein.”
Anyone would have done, apparently — but the choice couldn’t have been worse. Josef, of all people.
But more importantly — why was he even here?
Lately, Arnulf had been running into him in the most unexpected places. The weapon shop, the alley, and now even at a social gathering.
“Haha! Well now, Sir Sigmund! You’ve chosen quite the partner, haven’t you?”
Someone’s hearty laughter cut through the air as a hand landed on Sigmund’s shoulder.
Arnulf recognized the owner first — Baron Freang.
“Baron Freang.”
Sigmund immediately brushed the man’s hand off. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone he wasn’t close to touching him.
The Baron clicked his tongue in mild annoyance, then eased his expression into a smile.
“How about it, Lord Josef? Are you satisfied?”
Arnulf blinked at the question, not immediately grasping what the man meant.
“Ah, too embarrassed to answer, perhaps? Still, it must’ve been quite the experience for you, no?”
Only then did Arnulf catch on to what the Baron was implying.
There wasn’t a noble in the room who didn’t know Josef had been tailing Sigmund lately.
In other words, the Baron was suggesting this “game” had been a fine little adventure for him.
How ridiculous.
“My, my! Lord Josef — don’t tell me you’re blushing! Surely not. Eh? And what about you, Sir Sigmund?”
Was he always like this?
Arnulf hadn’t encountered Baron Freang often — his long absences from the palace made such meetings rare — but still, this seemed unusually obnoxious.
“Ah, so both of you are shy types then? Isn’t that right?”
The Baron’s booming laughter filled the hall, his voice echoing with barely veiled mockery.
Even if Arnulf didn’t know him well, one thing was clear: Baron Freang didn’t think much of either Josef or Sigmund.
He’d already had a spat with Josef at a previous gathering, but to speak like this even to Sigmund was unexpected.
Still, Arnulf wasn’t going to just sit there and take it. It wasn’t only his name being dragged through the mud, after all.
“Well, honestly, it’s rather laughable that anyone would make such a fuss over a mere game.”
Arnulf crossed his arms and spoke with cool indifference.
The Baron’s eyes widened briefly — surprised, perhaps, by his nonchalance.
“Haha, yes, that’s more like it. Now that’s the Josef I’ve heard of. Don’t you agree?”
His gaze flicked to Sieben, who had just approached. A meaningful glance passed between them — one Arnulf failed to notice.
“Come now, Josef. Join us. Let’s have a drink with the Baron while we’re at it.”
Sieben said smoothly, grabbing Arnulf’s arm.
Arnulf tried to shake him off, but before he could, Sigmund’s cold voice cut through.
“Baron Freang.”
The icy tone made Sieben stop short.
Arnulf did too, suddenly curious what Sigmund would say next.
The Baron tilted his chin slightly, gesturing for him to speak.
“Well? Go on then.”
Sigmund didn’t spare a glance for Arnulf — or even recall the kiss from moments earlier.
What mattered to him was finally hearing the answer Baron Freang had been putting off for weeks, always with some condition attached.
“Ah, that. Right.”
The Baron nodded as though he’d just remembered.
‘What are they talking about?’
Arnulf tilted his head slightly. Clearly, some private deal existed between them. But it couldn’t be that important — Sigmund wouldn’t bring it up so openly otherwise.
“Well, it does concern you too, Lord Josef, so why don’t you have a seat first? Come on now.”
But the Baron’s response made no sense to Arnulf — and worse, it dragged him into whatever this was.
“I… would rather not—”
Curiosity aside, he had no interest in being caught between those two.
Especially when it involved Josef. Absolutely not.
Arnulf opened his mouth to excuse himself, but Sieben — still standing behind him — was quicker.
“Josef, come on. Let’s go.”
With Sieben right behind him, Arnulf couldn’t stop himself from being pushed forward, stumbling slightly.
It never would have happened before, but Sieben was taller and stronger — impossible to resist.
“Ugh.”
Arnulf ended up being shoved right into the seat opposite Sigmund.
Sigmund, watching with a calm expression, sat down across from him.
And Sieben, having done his part, slipped away almost instantly — as did the other nobles around the table, dismissed by a glance from the Baron.
Left bewildered at a table he hadn’t wanted to join, Arnulf sighed inwardly.
“So then, Lord Josef. How are you feeling? I heard you were unconscious for two whole weeks.”
The Baron spoke first.
“As you can see, perfectly fine.”
“Hmm… Is that so? Healthier than I’d imagined. That’s good.”
Something about his tone — the word “good,” especially — made it sound like mockery.
He poured drinks for both Arnulf and Sigmund before continuing.
“You must have heard the news, yes?”
“News?”
“The funeral. For His Highness, the Third Prince.”
“Ah…”
He had some nerve, bringing that up so casually.
Was he doing it on purpose?
Arnulf noticed how the Baron’s gaze flicked toward Sigmund as he spoke.
When Sigmund had earlier mentioned Josef by name, Arnulf had wondered why — and now it was clear. This was where that conversation had been headed.
Troublesome. Arnulf didn’t want that incident dredged up again — least of all in front of Sigmund.
“Yes. I’ve heard.”
Arnulf’s calm reply made the Baron raise an eyebrow in faint surprise.
“You needn’t worry about any repercussions from that matter. Her Majesty the Queen personally gave orders to protect you.”
“Yes.”
He’d already heard that back at the hospital. There was no need for the Baron to repeat it now, pretending it was his doing.
Was he expecting gratitude?
Arnulf had no intention of offering it. That entire mess had never been something the Queen should’ve needed to “fix” herself.
Not that he wanted to stir trouble by saying so — but still.
The Baron seemed displeased by his indifference. A quiet tsk clicked from his tongue.
“However, it seems Sir Sigmund here has a harder time understanding your situation. That’s why I arranged this little meeting.”
Arnulf instinctively turned to look at Sigmund — who, as it happened, had been staring at him the entire time.
He hadn’t looked away once. His gaze was sharp, probing — as though he were trying to uncover something hidden beneath Arnulf’s expression.
And indeed, Sigmund had begun to notice small, subtle differences: tiny changes in eyes, tone, and posture — the kind that wouldn’t have existed before.
Things that kept making him think, No, it can’t be… but still…
“A meeting, huh.”
Arnulf almost laughed in disbelief.
He’d suspected Sieben’s persistent invitations had some ulterior motive.
At first, he’d used Albrecht’s name, and when that didn’t work, he’d kept pushing with other excuses.
Even when Arnulf spotted Sigmund here earlier, he’d dismissed it as coincidence — but apparently, this had been planned all along.
“Sir Sigmund, shall we resume our earlier conversation?”
Baron Freang smiled at Sigmund, ignoring Arnulf completely.
‘So they were talking before I came in.’
Arnulf frowned slightly, watching the exchange.
Sigmund, after a brief pause, said evenly,
“There’s no need.”
“No need? What do you mean?”
The Baron looked puzzled. But Sigmund’s eyes stayed locked on Arnulf, unwavering.
“There’s nothing I could hear from him that would matter now.”
“Hmm?”
The Baron’s gaze darted between the two men, confused — and Arnulf himself felt lost.
It was clear Sigmund meant him, but the meaning behind his words escaped him entirely.
“Don’t you know?”
Sigmund’s gaze swept between the Baron and Arnulf before he continued:
“Josef’s lost his memory.”
A faint scoff escaped Arnulf’s lips at that.
And Sigmund’s violet eyes — already fixed on him — gleamed brighter, as though he’d just found the proof he was looking for.
