A few hours later, at midnight, Liora leaned against her room's door, listening intently for footsteps. The inn was still busy and she could hear the shuffle of boots, the murmur of voices. She needed to wait until the place quieted for the night before she could escape.
Escape.
It was better than being married off to the estranged prince, at least, that's what her aunt and uncle had said the night before. They had made it clear what only choices she had. And with her grandmother was still in Evelyne's clutches, she had only one place to turn that was Her third uncle. He was staying in another city, unaware of what had happened to their household. If she could reach him, perhaps he could help her with everything.
She knew Henry's sleep schedule well; he'd be dozing off soon. The last thing she wanted was for him to check in on her and find her missing before she was far enough away.
After an hour passed. Then, finally, it was time.
Liora pressed her ear to the door one last time. She could hear Silence. The inn had quieted down,
Carefully, she secured a small sack to her back with a strip of torn fabric. Another strip, fashioned into a mask, concealed most of her face, leaving only her eyes visible. Slowly, she opened the door and stepped into the corridor, moving on the balls of her feet to avoid making a sound.
The stairs creaked beneath her weight, but she moved quickly, scanning the main hall. Just as she was about to move forward, she spotted movement.
Someone was coming.
Her pulse thundered as she ducked behind the reception counter, pressing herself low. She risked a glance, craning her neck to see.
She saw Zouk, He entered the hall, escorting a small-framed man. Two bulky figures followed closely behind them as Zouk looked like he was leading the way. Liora watched as they climbed the stairs, their heavy boots thudding against the wood.
After few seconds, She crawled out from under the counter and ran toward the hall's side entrance.
'They came by this side so chances are the back door is somewhere here' she thought using her hands pointing here and there. After deciding to go towards the back side of the hall, came kitchen. If the door was still open, she could slip out unnoticed.
She darted inside, the scent of stale bread and charred meat filling was in the air. At the far end of the room, she spotted the exit. Holding her breath, she reached for the handle and slowly pushed the door open.
Meanwhile, on the roof, a shadow moved.
A man dressed in black crouched low, his face covered. His movements were quick, precise, effortless. He scanned the inn, his sharp eyes locking onto a specific room. Silent as the night, he positioned himself outside the window, hidden from view.
Inside the room, a man sat with his shirt slightly undone, his collar open. A woman leaned against his shoulder; her posture was relaxed but not entirely intimate.
Zouk entered with a grin, his face carefully composed. Behind him, the small-framed man walked in, one of the bulky guards following, while the other remained stationed outside.
"Mr. Lois," Zouk announced, his tone deferential. "I've brought the man you requested."
The small-framed man stepped forward and bowed. "Good evening, Mr. Lois," he said, grinning. "I am Hoffman, a salesman."
Lois barely acknowledged him, his ocean-blue eyes flickering with disinterest as he continued to gaze at the woman in his arms. "And what, exactly, do you have to offer?"
Hoffman turned to his bodyguard, who nodded and slipped outside.
With a confident smile, Hoffman took a seat across from Lois. "I think you'll like what I've brought," he said smoothly. "Once you do, I expect permission to expand my trade to other territories."
Lois's eyes finally lifted to meet his. A slow, amused smile curled his lips. "That's quite presumptuous of you."
For a moment, Hoffman held his gaze. Then, a chill ran down his spine.
Lois hadn't even moved, yet the weight of his stare felt suffocating.
Meanwhile, downstairs, as Liora stepped out of the inn, her heart pounded. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and smoke from a nearby torch. Two men loitered near the entrance, their clothes tattered, their eyes dark with mischief.
"What a beauty..." one of them whistled, his gaze trailing over her.
Liora's breath hitched. Her eyes widened in alarm. Without hesitation, she spun on her heel, trying to dart back inside. But before she could reach the door, rough hands seized her.
"Going somewhere?" One of them sneered, his fingers tightening around her arm.
Panic surged through her as she thrashed against their grip, kicking and clawing with all her strength.
"You've got fight, huh?" The other man chuckled, easily subduing her. "Wait till we break you in."
His words sent a jolt of terror through her. She hadn't fully grasped what was happening—until she saw the cart.
Its wooden frame creaked under the weight of several women huddled inside, their faces pale with fear. Among them, a few little girls sat trembling, their wide eyes brimming with silent pleas for help.
Liora gasped, but before she could scream, a calloused hand clamped over her mouth.
"Shh, don't make this difficult," one of them cooed mockingly.
She bit down on his fingers, making him yelp, but it only earned her a sharp pinch to the waist. The sudden pain forced her mouth open, and in that instant, the other man shoved a cup to her lips, forcing a bitter liquid down her throat.
Liora gagged, choking as the drug seeped into her system. She fought to spit it out, but a heavy hand covered her mouth, sealing her fate.
Laughter echoed around her as her vision blurred. Her limbs turned to lead, her strength slipping away. The last thing she heard was a voice—low and menacing.
"The boss wants a sample."
A shadow loomed over her. Through the haze, she barely registered the exchange.
"Who is she?"
"Dunno. She looked like a thief trying to sneak in."
"She looks good."
"Why not send her instead?"
"Fine. Take her."
A bearded man lifted her effortlessly, throwing her over his shoulder as though she weighed nothing.
Liora wanted to scream, to fight, but her body refused to obey. Darkness clawed at the edges of her consciousness.
She was carried back inside the inn. Up the stairs. Into a room.
She was placed on something soft—a bed.
Through the fog, she heard voices.
"Mr. Lois, I hope you have a wonderful night," a man said, his tone dripping with suggestion.
A lazy chuckle. "We'll see."
Liora's half-lidded eyes flickered toward the direction of the voice. A man sat there, his shirt slightly open, a woman draped over him.
"As I already have company, why don't you take mine instead?" Lois mused, his fingers trailing along the woman's arm before gently pushing her toward the other man.
Hoffman's eyes gleamed with desire. He eagerly nodded, grabbing the woman by the wrist and leading her out of the room.
The bearded man followed, the door clicking shut behind them.
And Liora was left there—alone with Lois.
Lois got up, locking the door with a quiet click before moving to the window. He pushed it open, letting the cool night air seep in, then glanced toward the pillar where he had stationed his lookout.
Empty.
His brows furrowed. "Where did that bastard go?" he muttered under his breath, frustration tightening his jaw.
Sighing, he turned back toward the bed. Liora was groaning softly, her body shifting weakly as she tried—and failed—to sit up.
He walked over, watching her with mild curiosity.
Sensing someone near, Liora mumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness, "Who... who's there?"
Lois leaned down, studying her flushed face. He wasn't a physician, but even he could tell she was heavily drugged. "They must've dosed you," he muttered.
Reaching for the water jug, he poured a bit into his palm before flicking the cool droplets onto her face.
"Hey... don't do that," she weakly protested, scrunching her nose and trying to wipe the water away with unsteady hands.
Lois ignored her complaints. "Where are you from?" he asked, his tone firm but not unkind.
"I am from... I am..." Her voice trailed off into incoherent mumbling, her head lolling to the side as her consciousness wavered.
He sighed, gripping her chin lightly and turning her face from side to side. "Do you feel hot?"
His question wasn't just casual concern—Hoffman's girls were often laced with arousing potions before being sent off. If she had been injected with one, it could complicate things.
Liora let out a faint sound, trying to respond, but all she could manage was a weak shake of her head.
Just as Lois was about to examine her arm, sliding her sleeve up slightly to check for any injection marks, her entire body stiffened.
Her hand shot out, smacking his away with surprising strength.
"What are you….stop!" she suddenly screamed, panic lacing her voice.
In an instant, Lois clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her cry.
Liora's eyes snapped open. Though her vision was blurry, she could make out the dark figure hovering over her. A shadowy outline of broad shoulders, the fall of black hair over piercing blue eyes.
Lois studied her, noting the hazy brown eyes staring back at him disoriented, but slowly regaining clarity.
"Just answer me, will you?" he pressed, his patience thinning.
Liora mumbled something again, her eyelids fluttering.
Lois exhaled sharply, patting her cheek twice, trying to keep her awake. "Come on, stay with me. Where are you from?"
But her consciousness was slipping fast.
And Lois had a feeling that if she passed out now, getting answers from her would be a much bigger problem later.
Liora, sensing the touch on her face, instinctively caught Lois's hand, her fingers curling around his. She caressed it weakly, mumbling, "Grema…" before slipping into unconsciousness.
Her grip was surprisingly strong. Lois had to pry his hand away, shaking it in the air as if to rid himself of the lingering sensation. With a sigh, he leaned closer, brushing a finger under her nose to check her breath. Still steady. Not shallow.
"Hoffman is a bastard," he muttered under his breath, disgust curling his lips.
The man had built his wealth by selling girls—young, untouched, or barely past puberty—to high-status men. It was one thing to be ruthless in business, but Hoffman's trade was filth.
Lois turned away from Liora, who was still mumbling incoherent words, none of which he cared to decipher.
"What a nuisance," he thought.
Dropping into the armchair, he tapped his fingers impatiently against the armrest. He should have heard the alarm by now.
A soft rustling outside drew his attention.
"Master! Master!" A voice called from the window.
Lois glanced at Liora. She was completely out of it—no threat to him.
"All clear," he murmured, low enough for the black-masked man outside to hear. A moment later, the figure slipped through the window and landed inside with practiced ease.
Lois's sharp eyes flicked over him, scanning from head to toe. "What took you so long?"
The man scratched his neck awkwardly. "Uh… well..." His eyes darted toward the bed.
Lois caught the movement.
"Stop," he ordered, voice flat.
The masked man froze mid-step, glancing back at him. "What? Master, I was just checking on..." He fell silent under Lois's darkened gaze.
"Okay, okay. I won't bother." He lifted his hands in surrender. Then, after a beat, he asked, "What's next, Master?"
Before Lois could answer, a piercing scream rang out.
"Ahhhh!!!".....
It came from the neighboring room.
Lois's eyes narrowed. "Now we act," he said coldly. "You, go. He might need help."
The masked man obeyed instantly, vanishing through the door.
Lois grabbed the coat he had tossed over the armchair earlier, shrugging it on before stepping out. He cast one last glance at the unconscious girl on the bed before closing the door behind him.