After long hours of scrutinizing the threads of the conspiracy, Edward returned to his old apartment. His goal was simple: to collect the last of his personal belongings in preparation for his final move to the secret hideout with Christopher. The flat was cold, filled with an oppressive silence, and Julia's scent still lingered in the walls, as though time itself refused to let her go.
He approached his desk, gathered a few papers and notebooks, then turned toward the bedroom.
He stopped abruptly.
A black envelope rested with calculated precision upon his pillow.
He froze.
He was certain he hadn't left anything there before departing.
Slowly, he stepped forward, his eyes darting toward the front door.
The lock...
Intact.
He turned toward the windows.
Every latch was still secured from the inside.
He took a cautious step backward, sweeping the apartment with frantic eyes. He opened the wardrobe, checked beneath the bed, and even pulled back the curtains.
Nothing.
No one.
He returned to the envelope and picked it up carefully. Drawing his pistol, he laid it beside him before breaking the seal.
Then he began reading in a low, grim voice.
"Two weeks have passed since the mine incident. The turmoil surrounding the Mortimer family has subsided following the scandal involving the imprisoned workers, and, in the eyes of the public, everything has returned to normal. But behind the walls of the manor, a war has begun that no one sees."
His expression tightened as he continued.
"Thomas and Lucia are now competing for the loyalty of the family elders. Thomas relies on threats; I heard him myself as he warned David, Chairman of the Family Council, that he would expose documents proving David had hired mercenaries to stage a coup within the family. As for Lucia, she was negotiating with Elder Karl, promising him complete protection from the John Dread Organization in exchange for his support."
Edward's grip on the paper tightened.
How could the author of this letter possibly know all of this?
He continued reading.
"As for my identity... do not search for it yet. I still live in the shadows, and my time to step into the light has not yet come."
Beneath it, another line had been written.
"When the time comes... you will know my name."
At the bottom of the page, a final note appeared in a sharper, harsher script.
"Tell no one about this letter... for there are more eyes watching than you could ever imagine."
Silence reclaimed the room.
Edward slowly lowered the letter before rushing back toward the apartment door.
He inspected the handle.
No signs of forced entry.
He moved to the nearest window.
No scratches around the frame.
Then his eyes drifted upward toward the ceiling.
"How did he get in...?"
There was no answer.
For the first time since the mine incident, Edward felt that someone had been watching him for a very long time—someone capable of entering his home and leaving again without leaving behind a single trace.
He carefully folded the letter and slipped it into the inner pocket of his coat.
Leaving the apartment in haste, he resisted the urge to head straight for the hideout. Instead, he wove through London's maze of narrow alleyways, deliberately changing direction several times to make certain no one was following him.
Yet with every step, a single question echoed relentlessly through his mind.
"If this person could reach me this easily... why didn't they simply kill me?"
Somewhere else in London...
An unseen figure watched Edward from behind a darkened window.
After a long moment of silent observation, the figure quietly drew the curtain shut...
...and disappeared into the shadows once more.