Philippe had just stepped out of the inn, seeking the cool night air to clear his mind, when a sound shattered the silence.
Not an ordinary sound, but the panicked clatter of boots racing over cobblestone streets, accompanied by ragged, desperate breaths.
"Hey!"
Philippe turned. A figure staggered toward him, their face ashen and drenched in sweat under the lantern light.
Armand. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving rapidly. Why is he this panicked?
"Madeleine!" Armand gripped Philippe's shoulders with surprising strength. "Madeleine!!!"
"Hey, calm down!" Philippe exclaimed, his hands steadying Armand's trembling arms. His friend's panic was contagious, making his own heart race. "What happened to Madeleine?"
"She's gravely injured!" Armand roared, his voice hoarse. "Very badly!"
Philippe's world seemed to stop spinning. Attacked? Inside the palace?
The image of the faceless creature flashed in his mind. "Where is she now?"
"In the palace!"
"Then let's go!" Philippe pulled the shaken Armand along. Suddenly, he stopped. "Wait, what about Emilie?"
"She's already there."
What?! Philippe was stunned for a moment, but there was no time to ask. "Alright. Let's hurry."
Racing through the increasingly empty streets, fragments of thoughts chased through Philippe's mind.
An intruder in the palace? The supposedly safest place?
Why target Madeleine?
And why now?
Why not at her house, where security is obviously weaker?
***
Miraculously, the guards at the palace gates allowed them through immediately upon seeing Armand's panicked face. One guard even nodded briefly to his friend.
Since when are they close?
Following Armand as he ran through the long, cold marble corridors, they finally arrived at a magnificent oak door.
There, Emilie stood leaning against the wall, her figure small and fragile under the flickering torchlight.
She turned at the sound of their footsteps. Her face was pale, her eyes puffy and her gaze vacant, as if her soul had been forcibly ripped away.
"Is Madeleine… okay?" Philippe asked, his own voice laced with doubt.
Emilie's eyes trembled. Her lips pressed together, holding back a sob. "Her internal organs… are shattered," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
What!?
Philippe froze. Shattered? His mind struggled to process the words.
He had thought what befell Madeleine was far simpler. But it wasn't a stabbing, poisoning, or any simple wound he could imagine. Who would have guessed her insides had burst?
"What do you mean?"
Emilie took a deep breath. "Like I said. The doctor said… as if something exploded from inside her body."
"Exploded…" Philippe muttered the word.
At the same time, something clicked in his memory.
"Can she survive?" Armand interjected, his voice trembling with hope.
Emilie flinched, her lips pressing tight again. Her silence was the most painful answer.
Philippe placed his hand on Armand's slumped shoulder. He looked into his friend's eyes, now brimming with tears, and shook his head slowly. "Let's pray for the best," he said softly. "May a miracle be with her."
***
The streets were now truly empty as Philippe walked side by side with Armand.
Emilie had chosen to stay, standing guard outside Madeleine's room.
The night air felt cold, making their conversation sound clearer.
"By the way," Philippe said, breaking the silence. "How did you find out about Madeleine so quickly?"
"Oh, I was already at the palace!" Armand replied, a strangely cheerful note returning to his voice.
"How? Weren't you passed out drunk?" Philippe paused.
I mean… Emilie left you on the roadside.
"Hehe, a kind-hearted guard helped me."
"Oh?"
"In short, we hit it off. After I told him a lot about you, Emilie, and Madeleine, he offered to let me in and look around the palace."
Philippe narrowed his eyes. "You got in just with stories like that? What exactly did you tell him about me?"
Armand looked away and started whistling, gazing at the night sky with feigned interest.
Clearly, he told something he shouldn't have, Philippe sighed inwardly. But on the other hand, he felt a bit relieved seeing Armand back to his usual self.
Suddenly, Philippe stopped. Armand, walking ahead, stopped too and turned with a furrowed brow. "What's wrong?"
Philippe looked straight into his friend's eyes. "There's something I want to discuss with you." He glanced toward their inn, visible at the end of the street.
"Better in the room."
***
Philippe opened the door, revealing their room still a mess like a shipwreck. He sighed. "Tomorrow, we have to say goodbye to this place."
He stepped in, pulled a chair, turned it around, and sat backward, resting his arms on the backrest.
He looked at Armand, who returned the gaze with a confused expression. "Sit down. Relax," Philippe said with a faint smile. "This won't be serious."
Armand pulled another chair and sat awkwardly.
"Where should I start…" Philippe murmured softly. He leaned forward, closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. His gaze was now sharp and focused.
"I am a player."
At first, Armand blinked. One eyebrow raised, his head leaned forward slightly. The word meant nothing to him.
He didn't understand what the person in front of him was saying!
To him, it sounded like 'bro, I'm actually a woman!'
Weird and absurd!
The difference was, he didn't understand the term 'player.'
"What are you talking about?"
Philippe chuckled softly. "Just kidding." His intent to test if Armand was a player like him had failed completely.
He's not a player after all…
"A joke?" Armand looked at him even more strangely.
'Bro, your sense of humor is so weird…' Somehow, Philippe felt that's what his friend's gaze meant.
"This time, I'm serious," Philippe said.
At that moment, the atmosphere in the cluttered room suddenly became heavy and suffocating.
His chuckle vanished, his smile faded. His face was now expressionless, his eyes staring straight and firm, as if piercing Armand's soul.
"I am not Philippe."
***
A/N: If you want to read the 7 advanced chapters with a faster update frequency than the webnovel, you can read it on my patreon whose link is below:
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