The Arranged Suitor Was the Kidnapper

Hardly anyone had realized that Marquis Hashir had resorted to forbidden magic.

However, if Solike took action, the rumor would spread like wildfire igniting dry straw.

Certainly, the Marquis would vehemently deny it, but the reactions of someone protesting their innocence and someone knowingly guilty would differ vastly.

Presently, the priority was to sow seeds of doubt among the people.

Amidst such suspicion, the Marquis would find it difficult to prepare brainwashing spells.

“And the person you asked me to investigate.”

Solike extended a sheet of paper.

“I had to prepare this in haste, so there isn’t much information. I’ll supplement it the next time you visit my shop.”

Accepting the paper, Laria read the name written at the top.

[Samad Lapel. Desert fox clan.]

According to the information Solike had gathered, Samad was not only Theodore’s mentor but also Marquis Hashir’s former instructor.

Currently, he served as a consultant within the Sorcery Office…

‘Sienna’s master as well?’

Laria’s eyes narrowed slightly.

There were two reasons she had requested Solike investigate Samad.

Not only had he likely discerned the Marquis’s use of forbidden magic during the duel, but more importantly, she had been concerned for her father.

Theodore had frequently seemed dejected, perhaps due to Samad’s apparent lack of recognition at the dueling grounds.

Samad’s reaction was understandable. Thanks to the Marquis, he too had likely come to mistakenly view Theodore with the same misgivings as others.

Laria wished to clear Theodore’s name.

Yet the truth of that day was known only to Marquis Hashir and Theodore himself, the incident having occurred so long ago.

Unless the Marquis confessed with his own lips, Theodore would continue bearing that undeserved stigma.

‘For now, I should keep an eye on him.’

Slipping the paper into her pocket, Laria studied the spell circle etched into the mine’s center.

An ominous aura endlessly emanated from the blood-drawn circle, the trap Ort had left behind, capable of dismembering any who stepped upon it.

Had Laria and Zenox not intervened, the villagers would have fallen victim to this spell circle.

“I will begin dismantling the spell circle now.”

Unraveling a spell formation was far more intricate than creating one.

Moreover, this particular circle had been infused with forbidden magic by Ort. Any careless misstep could potentially trigger unforeseen consequences.

Yet none expressed any apprehension.

Laria immediately infused the spell circle with her magic power. Then, akin to solving a puzzle, she methodically unraveled the intricate formation, one component at a time.

Just as each person possessed a unique penmanship, spell formations bore distinct signatures.

By dismantling the intricate weave, one could deduce the caster’s identity.

Before long, Laria had identified and isolated every trace of Ort’s handiwork within the formation.

‘This should suffice as evidence.’

With Zenox as a witness, Ort would undoubtedly face execution.

However, rather than outright slaying him, using Ort as bait to hook larger prey would prove far more advantageous.

Withdrawing her hands from the spell circle, Laria turned.

“Finished.”

“Already? It hasn’t even been an hour!”

Solike’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

“It’s sufficient evidence. Any leads on Ort’s whereabouts?”

“He seems to be in deep hiding. Though I have a few hunches.”

Responding to Solike, Zenox chimed in:

“So Ort was the one who fled that day, then.”

“That’s right.”

Laria recalled mentioning Ort’s name the moment she had laid eyes on him.

“Were you acquainted with him previously?”

Laria’s words caught momentarily in her throat.

Zenox remained entirely unaware of her escape from the Grand Duchy estate.

To reveal the truth about Ort’s intrusion into the study, she would have to disclose her identity as Whitie.

“I saw him conversing with the Marquis when I had secretly infiltrated the Sorcery Office before. That’s when I learned his name.”

It was true that she had first encountered Ort at the Grand Duchy, but learned his name during the infiltration.

Rolling her eyes, Laria muttered as if making excuses:

“I simply forgot to mention it, having been preoccupied.”

Zenox’s gaze narrowed briefly before returning to normal, seemingly accepting her explanation without further probing.

Inwardly relieved, Laria remained silent as Solike, sensing the peculiar undercurrent, glanced toward Zenox before speaking up.

“Actually, that guy was a regular client of ours…”

“A client? For what purpose?”

“He’d been searching for the white fox for years, apparently.”

Solike added an offhand remark, failing to notice Laria’s momentary stillness.

“Must have been after the bounty.”

Many sought the white fox besides Ort.

Even now, bounty hunters continued their pursuit.

However, Ort’s true objective was the fox orb.

He alone knew Whitie had swallowed the bead.

‘Just in case he attempts to flee…’

Laria could only lay a trap, luring him in of his own volition.

Yet one concern lingered.

Laria stole a glance at Zenox.

He had remained silent throughout their exchange.

‘I should move alone this time.’

She needed to avoid any situations that risked exposing her identity.

Laria resolved to meet Ort when Zenox was absent.

“Understood. I should take my leave, then.”

Bidding Solike farewell, Laria departed from the mines.

Several days later, Zenox returned to the North.

* * *

Ort had holed up in a room prepared for him beneath the Sorcery Office.

His sole activities consisted of drinking and sleeping.

The cause of his reduced circumstances lay entirely with Marquis Hashir.

After his plan to procure sacrifices through forbidden magic in the abandoned mining village had failed, the Marquis hadn’t sought out Ort again.

“How could he do this to me…?”

Ort had believed the Marquis would avenge him.

Instead, he had been discarded like refuse.

Daily, Ort cursed the Marquis and the man who had severed his arm.

His rambling soliloquies invariably circled back to the fox orb.

“If only I had the fox orb, I could have escaped this wretched fate long ago.”

Like someone fixated on a lottery windfall, Ort still clung to his dream.

“Damn that fox!”

He resented the white fox that had swallowed the fox orb before fleeing from his grasp.

His current plight was entirely due to that cursed white fox.

Lying on the bed, he flung his arm toward the table.

Yet every bottle he grasped was empty.

Realizing he had run out of liquor, a stream of curses poured forth.

Still partially sober, Ort donned his large robe and teleported to the mercenary guild.

The first floor operated as a tavern, packed with patrons despite the early hour, drawn by the cheap drinks.

“So much for that arrogant air, you’ve been reduced to this sorry state.”

“To be bested by a mere girl, just how pathetic were you?”

“If the Office Head himself is that incompetent, the Sorcery Office’s sorcerers must be a real joke.”

At the mention of the Sorcery Office, Ort’s shoulders jolted involuntarily.

The Office Head had been defeated, they said?

What did that even mean?

“Rumor has it the Office Head even resorted to forbidden magic during the duel.”

“Huh, that must be baseless hearsay.”

“Nah, there were quite a few witnesses, apparently…”

Ort’s complexion paled.

Marquis Hashir had participated in a duel?

And used forbidden magic, no less?

Doubting his sobriety, he slapped his own cheek.

Thwack!

The loud crack drew momentary glances from the patrons before they promptly lost interest.

Flustered, Ort swiftly lowered his head.

Once the scrutiny had dispersed, he secured a seat among the crowd and ordered a drink.

Though he had intended to merely purchase liquor and depart, his plans changed.

Feigning inebriation, Ort eavesdropped on the surrounding conversations.

Many events had transpired while he had been sequestered.

Most astonishing was the account of Marquis Hashir dueling Laria Rohan.

Who was this Laria Rohan?

Belatedly recalling her identity as the Grand Duke’s lover, a nearby conversation reached his ears.

“Did you hear? The white fox has apparently appeared in the capital.”

Ort nearly dropped his ale.

“And what of the Grand Duke?”

“It seems he’s been absent. Normally, he would have been the first to respond, but there’s been no word from him.”

“Perhaps I should attempt to capture it myself?”

“Are you daft? Bounty hunters from across the nation have already converged.”

Ort’s heart felt ready to burst from his chest.

Abruptly rising, he approached the group.

“Wh-Where was this fox sighting reported?”

The men eyed Ort with disdain at his unsolicited intrusion.

Until he proffered a gold coin, their attitude swiftly shifted.

“We heard rumors of a sighting around Reston Avenue 10.”

Ort hastily exited the tavern, heading straight for Reston Avenue 10.

If that fox happened to be the Grand Duke’s white fox…

The extinguished embers of his hope flared to brilliant life once more.

As he ventured further from the bustling districts, the buildings grew increasingly dilapidated and rundown.

[Reston Avenue 10]

Confirming the signpost, Ort surveyed his surroundings.

Indeed, individuals resembling bounty hunters lingered at various corners.

Following their trail, Ort scoured the winding alleys.

Venturing deeper inward, a white blur suddenly whisked past his vision.

“!”

Ort immediately gave chase.

Cornering his quarry in a dead-end, a huddled white fox came into view.

“At last…”

His face alight with elation, Ort advanced purposefully toward the unmoving target.

The motionless fox appeared like a feast prepared solely for his benefit.

Finally seizing the fox by its scruff, Ort burst into laughter.

“Hahaha! …Uh?”

The moment he flipped it over, his mirth ceased abruptly.

What Ort had captured was not a fox, but a mere wooden carving.

Feeling utterly duped, his eyes could only blink dazedly until a lilting voice reached him from directly behind.

“Long time no see, huh?”