Late at night, the air was cool as flowing water.
After being unconscious for most of the day, Lucien Valois slowly opened his eyes. What greeted him was the snow-white ceiling of the hospital room.
As his awareness gradually returned, a piercing pain suddenly erupted from his shoulder. It was so sharp that he couldn't help baring his teeth.
"Hmph! You deserve to hurt, you bastard."
Chiori sat in a chair beside the bed, arms crossed, speaking without the slightest bit of sympathy.
Lucien Valois turned his head toward her delicate face and forced a gentle smile. "Sorry to disappoint you."
Chiori glanced at the tightly closed door, then lowered her voice.
"Why did you do it? With your strength, you shouldn't have been injured."
Lucien Valois smiled faintly.
"The sanctity of a hero often comes from the sacrifices and pain they endure. And in the minds of most people, someone who hasn't been tempered by hardship isn't worthy of trust."
Chiori finally understood.
Compared to those born powerful, an unyielding fighter who had suffered and bled would always win more admiration and reverence.
If Lucien Valois could send Olivieri to the Fortress of Meropide while recovering from his injuries, his popularity among Fontaine's citizens would skyrocket.
That would lay a broad and solid foundation of public support for his future ascent to power.
After thinking it through, she sighed softly.
"You really are a shameless, despicable bastard."
"Thank you for the compliment," Lucien Valois replied calmly.
Then Chiori's expression turned cold.
"Lucien Valois, Emilie and Furina both seem unusually concerned about you."
A chill instantly ran down his back.
"Emilie and I are just ordinary friends," he explained quickly. "As for Furina, she's simply a superior I need to curry favor with."
"Oh?" Chiori stared at him intently, suspicion filling her gaze—like a wife interrogating a husband caught cheating.
"Of course it's true," Lucien Valois said, a little guilty. "Truer than pure gold."
With a sharp metallic hiss, Chiori unsheathed her katana, its blade gleaming with a chilling light.
"It had better be. Otherwise…"
She made a swift, clean slicing motion in the air.
Lucien Valois felt an icy breeze between his legs.
Chiori slowly sheathed the blade, but inwardly, she let out a quiet sigh.
Inside the lavish main hall of the villa, Olivieri was suspended high in the air by ropes, his body swaying slightly.
He groaned in agony. His body was covered in whip marks, blood seeping through torn fabric. He looked utterly miserable.
Odeman raised the whip again, his expression fierce.
"You beast! Was it you or not?!"
Olivieri lifted his head weakly, his voice hoarse.
"Father… it wasn't me! If Lucien Valois dies, I'm the prime suspect. Why would I do something so stupid?"
Odeman lowered the whip. In his heart, he had already mostly ruled out the possibility that Olivieri had hired the assassin.
He paced back and forth in the hall, trying to figure out who was truly behind it.
The current situation was extremely unfavorable for the Kappe Family. Nearly everyone had placed them at the top of the suspect list.
If the real culprit wasn't found quickly, they would be like someone smeared with mud—guilty whether they were or not.
At that moment, Skirk hurried into the hall, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Any news?" Odeman asked sharply.
Skirk reported quickly, "From the scene investigation, the attacker was a professional assassin. We haven't determined who hired him."
Odeman frowned. "Does the Palais investigation office have any suspects?"
Skirk hesitated, then forced himself to answer, "Many investigators are demanding that Young Master Olivieri be formally investigated."
Odeman lashed the whip violently onto the ground.
After taking a deep breath to suppress his anger, he said firmly, "Notify everyone in the family. At all costs, find out who truly orchestrated the assassination."
"Yes."
Skirk turned and immediately carried out the order.
Early the next morning, before the sky had fully brightened, Charles' bloated figure appeared in Lucien Valois's hospital room.
He cried dramatically, tears and snot flowing, lamenting his pain and sorrow as if he were a devoted and compassionate leader grieving for his subordinate.
Lying on the bed, Lucien Valois resisted the urge to strangle him with the IV tube and responded with a few perfunctory words.
As Charles prepared to leave, he suddenly adopted a righteous expression.
"Captain Lin, rest assured! I will uncover the real mastermind. No matter who it is—even if it's the Kappe Family!"
The moment those words left his mouth, the hospital door swung open.
Odeman entered, his expression dark and icy.
Charles froze, stammering nervously, "Lord Odeman, I—I didn't mean—"
"Get out."
Odeman's voice was cold as frost.
Charles scrambled out of the room without daring to linger.
Now only Odeman and Lucien Valois remained.
"It wasn't us," Odeman said, stepping forward. He placed a bank card on the table. "One hundred million Mora. The position of Captain of the Gardes. And we will find the true mastermind."
It had to be said—Odeman, as the head of a thousand-year noble house, possessed remarkable decisiveness.
One hundred million Mora alone was enough to tempt almost anyone.
But Lucien Valois refused without hesitation.
What he wanted far exceeded that.
"I believe Lady Furina and Chief Justice Neuvillette will uncover the truth."
"Not enough?" Odeman asked decisively. "Name your price. If the Kappe Family can provide it, we will."
At that moment, Lucien Valois's expression turned righteous and resolute.
"For Fontaine's justice, I will never yield! Justice will prevail!"
His voice rang loud and clear, echoing beyond the hospital room.
The next second, the door was flung open.
Charlotte burst in, visibly excited, holding her Kamera and snapping photos in rapid succession.
Odeman's face turned as stiff as stone.
He had come in private to negotiate peace—yet now he appeared as a villain threatening a wounded hero.
How could this young man be so despicable?
He cast Lucien Valois a long, deep look before turning and leaving.
Meanwhile, Lucien Valois maintained his heroic pose, allowing Charlotte to capture every angle.