Chapter 37

 "What are you doing right now?"

A voice laced with displeasure rang out from one of the elders, evidently unhappy with Amon standing up without seeking permission.

'Didn't he ask me to remain silent and not provoke the Council?'

Turning my eyes sideways, I saw Carlyle and Eloise looking equally taken aback.

"Amon Spencer, return to your seat at once."

But instead of complying, Amon took a step closer to the circular table, unfazed.

"Listen, Spen—"

"Do you not understand the words coming out of my mouth?"

"What?"

"Boyd Huron is a traitor to the Order. That is an irrefutable fact, regardless of who the real culprit is."

Amon, standing tall before me, continued in a voice that was calm yet cold.

"And it was this very Council that was manipulated by that traitor's words."

"That's..."

"What do you think will happen when this becomes public knowledge? Who do you believe will face the blame?"

A sudden hush fell over the room. I noticed Eloise widening her eyes in disbelief. Clearly, she hadn't anticipated Amon taking such an assertive stance, and neither had I.

"I did not come here to persuade you. I came to deliver a message: I will overlook your mistakes, but from this moment onward, stay out of this matter."

No one dared to speak. The hostile glares that had been directed at us earlier had all but disappeared.

"Whether it’s finding Boyd's trail or uncovering the true culprit who has killed five—including my parents—these are my responsibilities now."

"So, you’re saying..."

"This is my case."

His resolute voice echoed through the room—a clear warning spoken with measured calm. After a long silence, one of the elders finally spoke.

"...What about Hayden Bolev's body?"

Their voice was noticeably softer compared to before, signaling a shift. While they didn’t explicitly say so, it was evident they intended to heed Amon’s warning.

Sensing this, Amon replied with a slightly relaxed tone.

"I’ve already contacted the Bolev family. They’ve been informed that Hayden suffered a sudden heart attack during interrogation and seem to have accepted it."

"A heart attack..."

"There were no external injuries or traces of poison. They have no choice but to accept it. Much like how I once had no choice but to yield to your authority."

The elder turned her head away without a word, clearly unsettled by the sharp remark. She muttered under her breath.

"Still, since he died within the Order, some compensation will be necessary."

"I will handle that as well."

"Are you attending the funeral?"

"Yes."

With that brief exchange, the elder nodded, a gesture signaling the conversation’s end. Taking this as my cue, I quickly stood up.

I wanted nothing more than to leave the tense room before they could change their minds. Carlyle and Eloise, apparently of the same mind, rose as well. After offering quick bows, we hurried out of the chamber.

The silence persisted as we made our way down the corridor and out through the front gates. None of us spoke, likely wary of the possibility that the Council might still be listening.

It wasn’t until we were seated in the carriage that we collectively let out sighs of relief.

"That was bold," Carlyle remarked, breaking the silence. I nodded in agreement, though Amon merely shrugged.

"I can’t decide if it went smoother than expected or was more difficult than it should’ve been."

"Still, it was good that you made the warning clear. They never fully admitted their fault, but..." Carlyle trailed off.

I smiled faintly in response. For now, this much was enough. At least we were no longer in danger of being publicly condemned.

"You must be tired. Get some rest—it’s still a long ride back to the capital," Amon said from beside me.

I nodded and leaned my head against the window. At last, I was returning to the Order.

The thought of no longer being alone in that windowless hideout filled me with relief. Somehow, the Order had come to feel like home.

After dropping off Eloise and Carlyle at their respective homes, Amon and I returned to the Order. Following me to my door, he opened it and asked,

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"Plans?"

Caught off guard, I paused on the threshold.

"If you’re free, I was wondering if you could come with me somewhere."

"Ah..."

It was an odd feeling—being asked about plans and making appointments with someone. It almost made me feel like I truly belonged in this world.

"If you’re busy—"

"No, I’m not. Of course, I’m not. I don’t even have any memories."

Misunderstanding my hesitation, Amon began to explain, but I cut him off with a quick denial.

"Sure, I’ll go."

"You’re not going to ask where we’re going?"

"Well... it’s bound to be better than a morgue, isn’t it?"

I meant it sincerely, but Amon’s lips curled into a faint smile, as though he thought it was a joke.

"Very well. I’ll come to fetch you in the morning."

"Okay."

I didn’t bother questioning why he’d pick me up when we were staying in the same building. By now, I had grown used to his unwavering sense of chivalry.

"Rest well, then."

As if to signal that I should go inside, Amon tugged the door handle slightly and gestured with his eyes. Only then did I step over the threshold.

"And no nightmares."

The door closed softly behind me, accompanied by his kind words.

Perhaps it was thanks to that kindness.

When I woke the next morning, I realized that for the first time since falling into this world, I hadn’t had a nightmare. There were no shadows of Russell, no daggers, no death. In fact, there had been no dreams at all.

'I must have been too exhausted.'

Yet part of me couldn’t help but reflect on Amon’s words. It felt like these past two days of restful mornings were all thanks to him.

I got out of bed, washed up, and changed clothes. As I tied my disheveled hair back, a knock sounded on the door, almost as if he’d been waiting for me to wake up. It had to be Amon.

"Come in!"

I called out while fixing my hair. But when I turned to the door, I froze in surprise.

Standing in the hallway, Amon was clad entirely in black—from head to toe. His usual blue cape was replaced by a heavy black cloak that seemed to absorb light.

"Is this about Hayden’s funeral?" I asked, finally piecing it together.

Amon nodded. "Yes. But there’s one place we need to stop by first."

"Where?"

A hint of a playful smile appeared on his face.

"It’s better than a morgue, so don’t worry."

I let out a hollow laugh, caught off guard by his wit.

The destination turned out to be the central plaza fountain—the very spot where I’d first had a proper conversation with Amon.

"Why here? Are you shopping for something?"

I asked, glancing at the rows of shops lining the street.

"Partly. I also need to retrieve something I left here."

"Retrieve something?"

What could he possibly need to pick up, and why bring me along for it? Knowing Amon, there had to be a reason.

Before I could figure it out, Amon broke the silence.

"Aren’t you curious about what it is?"

"Can I ask?"

"Of course. It’s a necklace."

"A necklace?"

My gaze instinctively shifted to his neck, but his high-collared uniform offered no clues.

"Sir Amon... wearing a necklace?"

"It’s not for me," he said, his eyes resting on my collarbone.

I unconsciously touched the spot and hesitated.

"Wait. My necklace?"

"That’s right. You mentioned pawning it off, didn’t you?"

Although I had explained the events of my first day in this world to Amon, I never expected him to retrieve the necklace now.

"Why all of a sudden?"

"I thought it’d be better to return it to you than to buy you a new one."

"Huh?"

"And... I happen to have a lot of money."

"...Huh?"

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