3. In Search of the Canary.

“Fix it.”

Seventeen photographs and twenty-four bundles of letters lay scattered across the table. Vaye Levantes, having tossed them down in fury, clenched his teeth tightly.

“Fix it within a week. Raid the newspaper office, silence the nobles—whatever it takes.”

Arisa Menendo. That woman, who deserved to be strung up on the streets of Motrel, had meticulously tracked his every move. Her dedication to gathering evidence of his affairs was so thorough that Vaye almost suspected she had been planted by Lorena from the start.

When reporters threw sparks, excited tongues added logs to the fire, and the rumors grew into an uncontrollable blaze. It was the biggest scandal involving a great noble family in decades. Even an interview with one of his past lovers, a pianist, had exploded across the city.

It was all undoubtedly Lorena’s doing.

Vaye stared at a photo where his face was clearly captured in a compromising position.

“Why not withdraw the deposits immediately, Your Grace?”

His butler, Samuel, finally broached a long-deliberated subject.

“The Señora rummaged through your study without permission and freely perused confidential documents.”

There was no need for a grand report; Vaye already knew. Not just his study, but his office and sitting room had been thoroughly ransacked. Although the staff had hastily called carpenters to repair the damage, there wasn’t enough time to fully restore the study’s torn walls and the safe that had been pried open.

“If you summon the great nobles involved in Operation Canary and collect their deposits all at once, Klein will be bankrupt regardless.”

“And?”

“Pardon?”

“What’s the point?”

Operation Canary wasn’t about bankrupting a single bank. It was a long-term strategy aimed at suppressing republican forces within Bessen and toppling Ingerd’s republican government.

If public opinion framed Vaye’s retaliation as a personal vendetta against his wife for exposing his affairs, it would be disastrous. The narrative had to be that Klein’s failure was due to their own loss of credibility, not an act of revenge by the Levantes family.

If he rashly withdrew the deposits over a petty marital scandal, it wouldn’t just make the Levantes family look ridiculous—it would do nothing to undermine the standing of Ingerd’s republican government.

“In my opinion… for now, the priority is to bury this inappropriate scandal,” one of the family’s lawyers, summoned early in the morning, offered. “If Your Grace can prove your innocence, public opinion will turn swiftly. After all, you are a Levantes.”

The other lawyers nodded in agreement, each presenting their own strategies for handling the growing crisis.

“First, we are tracking down Miss Stephanie Conpino’s whereabouts. We’ll also revisit the statements of Miss Stephanie Conpino and Miss Olivia Quintana to discredit the Duchess’s claims as false.”

“As for the photographs, their origins remain unclear. Judging by the backgrounds, most appear to have been taken at taverns in Delgado Street or the Alborada Hotel. According to Miss Arisa Menendo, the photos were obtained from employees at the Alborada, but the hotel manager vehemently denies this.”

“Someone is lying. We might have to investigate the Alborada Hotel, but as Your Grace knows, the hotel’s true owner is…”

The lawyers hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. The true owner of not only the Alborada Hotel but also the entire district was a figure shrouded in mystery to the public, though whispers among nobles and legal circles suggested otherwise.

“So, the hotel’s real owner is the Marquis of Ervatos,” Vaye said coldly.

“Indeed, Your Grace. The Marquis owns not just the hotel but all of Delgado Street. Given his unpredictable nature, we cannot be certain he would cooperate with any search efforts…”

Vaye hardly listened to the ongoing discussion.

He cared little for how public opinion swayed or what Lorena might have discovered. The critical financial deposit certificates weren’t even in this mansion. What mattered to him was neither Lorena’s feelings nor her plans.

There was only one thing that truly mattered: the name ‘Lorena Levantes’.

The name that legally marked her as his possession and established him as her primary guardian.

A divorce?

“Utter nonsense.”

The sudden burst of laughter from the Duke left his retainers exchanging bewildered glances. Vaye Levantes, who had never before displayed his emotions so openly, seemed utterly unlike himself since his return from Soto.

By now, Operation Canary should have been completed long ago. In fact, it was already significantly delayed. Originally, the plan to destabilize the republican government of Ingerd by using Klein as bait had been set in motion three years ago.

The operation’s start date had been postponed solely because of Vaye’s unilateral decisions, though not out of any affection for his wife. The way he looked at Lorena wasn’t one of love; it was more akin to admiring a piece of art he intended to keep and observe for a long time.

Yet when the time came, he had coolly decided to proceed.

<It’s time to begin.>

Ten days ago, the banquet at Nas had been scheduled. There, the plan to arrest Vicenzo Klein and execute him in prison was to mark the operation’s first stage.

But now, everything had spiraled out of control.

The royal family had sent urgent demands for a detailed report on why the operation had failed, along with a summons for Vaye to appear at court the following morning.

Despite this, Vaye seemed entirely unconcerned, as if the success or failure of Operation Canary was of no importance to him.

“You. Come here.”

The maid who had been quietly standing by the door stepped forward. She was the only maid who had accompanied Lorena to the Klein Residence—Hena. Under the Duke’s piercing gaze, Hena shrank visibly.

“What is your mistress doing?”

“The Señora… is not much different from when she was at the mansion. She still has trouble sleeping and occasional bouts of anxiety. Without a resident physician at the Klein Residence, her condition is concerning…”

“Not such trivial things!”

Samuel, the butler, interrupted sharply, unable to contain his frustration.

“She tore open the Levantes vault! Even if Your Grace is unconcerned, it’s no small matter. She went through the financial plans for the Bellacarosa harbor and shipping operations, as well as all the accounting records!”

“Samuel Otero. Leave. You’re noisy.”

“She even reviewed the full property list of Levantes holdings. Do you realize how much alimony she could demand under the guise of divorce… Y-Your Grace?”

“I said ‘leave’.”

The Duke’s glare at Samuel was as ferocious as that of a predator. A black hound at his feet growled low, its hackles rising.

Samuel shut his mouth and withdrew, recognizing the storm brewing in his master.

Click, click.

The flint of a lighter sparked as Vaye lit a cigar. He gestured for Hena to continue.

“Go on. What has Lorena bought?”

“Yes…?”

“Report anything suspicious Lorena has recently purchased. A handgun, incendiary devices, unprescribed medications—anything of that sort.”

“She hasn’t purchased anything like that.”

The harsh scent of the cigar pricked her nose. Vaye, who disliked the lingering smell of smoke indoors, never smoked cigars in his study.

He was different now. Something fundamental within him had twisted. Like gears clogged with debris grinding in reverse, he seemed to be facing the exact opposite direction of the path he had always walked.

“That’s enough. You can go.”

The divorce papers outlined Lorena’s terms for the settlement, including alimony.

The alimony demanded was 50 million Peseka in cash. Additionally, half of the Levantes properties, half of the landholdings, and half of all other assets in his name. Yet none of the latter held his attention.

50,000,000 PSK

Vaye stared at the staggering figure written in the alimony section. Then, he let out a short laugh.

It was clear why she had settled on that specific number.

One of the lawyers, hesitating under Vaye’s watchful gaze, finally spoke up.

“Your Grace, may I ask what took you to Soto? It’s just that… it might be relevant for drafting your official statement.”

Vaye’s eyelids, still for so long, trembled faintly. His gaze drifted into empty space as he muttered in a flat voice,

“I had a disturbing dream.”

A dream. A word rarely, if ever, heard from Vaye’s lips. He swallowed the sharp, acrid smoke filling his mouth, then let the shortened cigar fall onto the papers before him.

“It was a damn terrible dream.”

The divorce agreement sent by Lorena began to catch fire, consumed by the small ember.

It took less than a few minutes for the document, signaling the end of their marriage, to disintegrate into a handful of ash.

* * *

It was Sunday, as the third week of April drew to a close—the seventh day since Lorena had stormed out of the Levantes mansion.

“Are you having trouble sleeping, Señora?”

The timid voice of a young maid broke the quiet. It was Dora, a fifteen-year-old girl who had recently started working at the Klein Residence. She had previously been dismissed from the household of Count Albatorre for making a mistake.

“Would you like to replace the bed if it’s uncomfortable? Or perhaps I should wash the sheets again?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m fine.”

Once again, Lorena had woken up on the sofa in the living room instead of her bedroom. Though she was no longer in the Levantes mansion but the Klein Residence, she still refused to go near the bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Dora. You can go and rest. Where’s Hena?”

“Hena said she was going to the grocer’s. She hasn’t returned yet—it seems to be taking a bit of time.”

“I see…”

As Lorena stretched, rubbing her stiff neck, the dark blue waves of her dress cascaded softly, brushing against her ankles like the gentle lapping of water.