Chapter 11
“…Damn it! I told you it’s urgent!”
The anxious voice pierced through the fog in her mind.
“Damn it all, I told you the materials are ready! Please, help us first. If you need more money, I’ll find a way to get it. You know what I’ve already done for the sake of money!”
At the sound of the man’s voice growing clearer, Isabel forced her heavy eyelids open. In her blurry vision, the glow of a bright lantern smeared into streaks.
‘Ugh, my head. What the hell happened…?’
She tried to push herself upright, but immediately collapsed back to the floor.
‘My hands are tied.’
Only then did her senses sharpen. Isabel calmly looked around.
Nothing particularly stood out—just a pile of unknown items in one corner of the cabin, windows boarded up with wooden planks to block any view outside, and an oil lantern on the wall, its flame flickering as though it was about to burn out.
‘So I’ve been kidnapped.’
Ambushed without a sound and dragged to some unknown place.
If she were an ordinary person, she’d probably be in a panic by now, sobbing and sniveling. But Isabel, having worked as a ghost detective, had experienced her fair share of similar situations—enough to call herself a veteran in these matters.
‘Not that I know if that’s really a good thing.’
Could Heibert have made enemies among the townsfolk?
He was an outsider of unknown origin, so it wasn’t impossible. If word had spread that people were looking for him, someone might have kidnapped her out of revenge.
If that was the case, then it was almost a relief—she might be able to get some information on Heibert.
Just then, the man’s agitated voice rose again.
“If you tell me now it can’t be done, that’s no fun at all! …Then just come check for yourself. The materials are here. I’ve met all your conditions, so come and confirm it!”
As she focused on the conversation, Isabel noticed something.
There was only one voice. The man’s conversation partner wasn’t here.
‘Is he using a communication stone?’
In this place where long-distance correspondence was usually done by post carriage, a magic-based communication stone was a luxury item—far beyond what a commoner could afford.
‘He’s not wealthy.’
From what she’d overheard, the man had done some unsavory things to get money.
One more thing she gathered—he was no professional at this sort of work.
Isabel twisted her bound hands behind her back. With just a few subtle movements, the rope biting into her wrists loosened.
From the sloppy restraint, it was clear he wasn’t a kidnapper by trade. Most likely, this had been done on impulse.
Having gauged the situation, Isabel shifted her eyes around, trying to guess where she was.
‘Judging by the dust, this place hasn’t been used in a long time. And the damp wooden floor…’
A musty scent of moss drifted past her nose. She pressed herself to the wall, straining her ears for outside sounds. Between the gusts of wind, she caught the faint, hungry cries of wild animals.
‘A forest?’
It seemed she was being held in an old storage shed. The damp floor, despite there being no sound of rain, suggested it was somewhere in the woods, far from town.
At this point, Isabel had a pretty good idea who her captor was.
From the start, things hadn’t added up—the raspy, phlegm-filled voice, the coarse speech with no trace of manners, and the fact that he was someone connected to her only from her first day in town.
‘Amanda’s husband.’
She had to admit she’d been careless. She should have suspected something when he’d so willingly given her directions. But she’d been too focused to see the bigger picture.
“Is that really so? All right, I’ll wait here then!”
The man’s previously gloomy tone suddenly brightened. Whoever he’d been speaking to must have agreed to his proposal.
‘So the person on the other end is this “Dr. Morus” he mentioned?’
It seemed this kidnapping wasn’t driven purely by revenge.
Isabel pulled the loosened rope taut again, repositioning her body as it had been.
She could escape now if she wanted, but the name “Dr. Morus” kept nagging at her.
It was… well, she could only call it a detective’s instinct.
“Hah, that’s a weight off my shoulders. Amanda will be waking up soon. Then we can finally take that trip to the Northern Hemisphere like I promised. She’s always wanted to see the snowy mountains in winter.”
Creak.
The floor groaned oddly. Footsteps approached, and Isabel quickly turned her head and shut her eyes tight.
The man crouched beside her, peering at her through half-lidded eyes.
“Hey. Don’t hold it against me. For a commoner like me, this is the only way to be chosen by him. You’re going to become fine material for him and start a new life. It’s heaven’s will.”
‘Heaven’s will, my ass.’
What bothered her more was the word “material” creeping into the conversation.
He couldn’t possibly be planning human trafficking… could he?
It was a reminder that living people could be far scarier than ghosts. Isabel swallowed dryly.
‘Wait—didn’t Adolf’s team come to this town last year to investigate a string of disappearances?’
The thought had barely formed when the man stood up.
“…I’d better get things ready before he arrives.”
His footsteps receded. Then the distinct sound of locks clanging into place echoed through the shed.
Isabel cracked one eye open to confirm the room was empty, then pushed herself up. It seemed she would be stuck here until Dr. Morus arrived.
‘How much longer do I have to wait…?’
Her gaze drifted to the boarded-up window. Through a small gap, a sliver of cold moonlight spilled in.
She must have been unconscious for quite some time. She couldn’t tell the exact hour, but if it was close to midnight…
With a long sigh, she murmured, “I wonder if Adolf is okay.”
“This is strange. Hutman and the lady are taking too long. Could something have happened?”
“What’s there to worry about when Hutman’s with her?”
Adolf’s reply was unusually curt.
‘Never thought I’d end up staying in a place like this.’
He’d known it would be hard to find lodging at the last minute, but he’d assumed they could secure somewhere decent if they offered more money.
He wasn’t asking for anything grand—just a place with decent food and no drafts.
“Get out!”
But every place they went turned them away at the door.
After several rejections, they’d finally found a shabby inn on the edge of town.
The room the deaf old woman showed them had a broken window letting in the wind, an old bed with creaky springs, and yellowed bedding that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years.
Not even a bottle of wine or cheap beer—just some goat’s milk with a sour smell, age unknown.
‘I’d planned to drink some wine and sleep early, but so much for that.’
Staring at the thick milk in his cup, Adolf pressed his fingers into his brow as if warding off a headache.
Something about the town had felt wrong since they arrived. Small towns often distrusted strangers, but here the feeling was stronger—like they were hiding something.
“This won’t do. Your Majesty, I’ll go out and look—”
But before Kezeff could finish, the inn’s door slammed open.
Bang!
Hutman strode in, glancing around the rickety building with a deep scowl.
“What kind of collapsing dump did you choose?”
“Hutman! What took you so long?!”
“Can the nagging. I had my own things to deal with, all right? You have no idea how many times I circled the town to catch her.”
“What do you—”
Looking down, Kezeff froze, pressing a hand to his forehead in disbelief.
“P-please… spare me…”
A grimy, bedraggled woman was sobbing, her neck firmly gripped in Hutman’s hand.
