Chapter 7
1954words
The vines of suspicion grew in silence. Sebastian had not given a clear explanation regarding Calvin's suspicions, only quietly adjusted the personnel "protecting" the gallery, but Elsie keenly noticed that in the depths of his gaze toward Calvin, there was also a touch of scrutiny that was difficult to dissolve. This undercurrent beneath the surface calm further strengthened Elsie's resolve not to place all her hopes on him. Once trust develops cracks, they are difficult to mend, and she needed to have her own backup plan.
She began to act more systematically and covertly on her own.
During the day, she remained the gentle and composed "Rose Lady," tending to the gallery and accompanying Leo.
But when night fell and Leo had gone to sleep, she would spread out all the clues in her small study: the photograph of that gloomy painting, sketches of the unfamiliar crest, copies of the anonymous letters, and information about Deville Family members mentioned during her conversations with Sebastian that she had written down from memory. Like a patient puzzle solver, she compared them repeatedly, trying to find overlooked connections. She realized that Sebastian's suggested direction of "family feud" might not be wrong, but the key could be hidden in more subtle corners that he either didn't care about or deliberately ignored.
She used the gallery's advantage of connecting with people from all walks of life to carefully expand her information channels, avoiding Sebastian's potential informants.
She no longer directly probed for sensitive information, but instead chatted casually with visiting merchants, old sailors, and even elderly residents of the dock area, under the pretext of collecting creative materials and learning about local history and customs.
Days of effort finally yielded a vague clue: an old captain who frequently sailed the Far East Route, fond of drinking yet widely knowledgeable, while admiring her painting of an old ship, mentioned casually that about seven or eight years ago, Crescent Harbor had docked several cargo ships "with backgrounds deeper than the sea." The shipowners were registered overseas and kept a low profile. One of the ships apparently had a mark "like a ring with thorns" on its hull.
"A ring with thorns"?
Elsie's heart skipped a beat. How similar was this description to the Eldritch Crest in her sketchbook!
She suppressed her excitement and asked casually. The old captain, however, waved his hand and said he couldn't remember clearly, only vaguely recalled that the ship seemed to have gotten into some minor trouble around that time, but couldn't remember the details, and never saw it again. Though the clue was vague, it was like a faint light in the darkness. She couldn't verify its authenticity, nor did she dare to easily tell Sebastian about it—what if this was another trap set for her? Or, what if the informant was by his side, and telling him would be walking right into the trap?
After tossing and turning all night, Elsie decided to go to the Old Docklands to investigate on her own.
This wasn't impulsive, but a choice made after careful consideration.
She told herself she would just look around the perimeter, observe the environment, search for possible clues related to that mark, and absolutely not venture into dangerous territory.
She fabricated a reasonable excuse, telling Sebastian that she needed to take Leo to a neighboring city to visit a child psychologist, requiring her to be away for a day or two.
She entrusted Leo to that absolutely reliable old neighbor who rarely traveled far, repeatedly emphasized safety precautions, and left emergency contact information.
On the day of the operation, the sky was overcast, with leaden gray clouds hanging low, making it hard to breathe. Elsie wore dark work clothes identical to those of dock workers, half-concealing her face with a scarf, and took the public tram to the Old Docklands. This place was a world apart from the gallery district she was familiar with. The air was a mixture of rust, rotting wood, salty sea breeze, and machine oil. Enormous abandoned warehouses stood like silent steel beasts, covered in rust patches, with broken windows that whimpered in the wind. Following the vague directions mentioned by the old captain, she moved cautiously, her sharp gaze scanning the walls and shipping containers for any possible marks or graffiti.
She did indeed discover some old paint symbols and numbers, but they were all far from resembling the "Thorned Ring."
Time passed second by second, the surroundings grew increasingly quiet, and a sense of unease gradually seized her.
Just as she was about to retreat according to the original plan, the corner of her eye suddenly caught sight of what appeared to be a relatively fresh splash of paint in the corner of a partially collapsed warehouse nearby, its shape vaguely distinctive.
Curiosity and the desire to investigate overpowered her slight vigilance.
She hesitated for a moment, but still decided to move closer to see it clearly.
As she focused on walking toward that corner, trying to discern whether the blurry mark was related to the emblem, she suddenly realized that the surrounding silence had become unnaturally eerie—the occasional calls of seabirds that had passed overhead earlier had disappeared.
She whipped her head around, her heart stopping—on her way back, several men in dark jackets with indistinct faces had appeared, silently blocking her retreat.
And from the shadows of the warehouse ahead, the sound of steadily approaching footsteps could be heard.
She fell into the trap! The old captain's "casual remark" was actually carefully planned bait! They had completely anticipated she would come to investigate alone!
Elsie's undershirt was instantly soaked with cold sweat. She quickly backed against a rusty shipping container, forcing herself to appear calm while her hand secretly reached for the defensive spray in her pocket. "What do you want?"
They didn't answer, just silently tightened their encirclement with professional, calm movements that carried unmistakable threat. One of them drew a knife that reflected the gloomy light of the dismal sky.
Just as Elsie's mind was racing, desperately searching for a way to escape—
A piercingly loud screech of tires tore through the silence of the warehouse district! A black sedan, like an unbridled wild horse, charged in from the entrance at an almost insane speed, and without slowing down, precisely crashed into the two thugs closest to Elsie!
The criminals were thrown into complete disarray by this sudden savage impact! The car door burst open, and Sebastian's figure leaped out like an enraged lion!
His face was terrifyingly dark, his eyes burning with a nearly insane fury that Elsie had never seen before, completely shattering the cold and restrained mask he usually wore.
He didn't even glance at Elsie, immediately engaging in combat with the nearest criminal with lightning speed, his techniques vicious, fighting as if his life depended on it.
"Go! Run!" he shouted hoarsely toward Elsie during a brief break in the intense fighting.
Elsie was stunned by this heaven-sent rescue, but her survival instinct made her react immediately, attempting to rush out through gaps in the battle. However, these opponents were clearly not a disorganized rabble; they quickly recovered from the initial chaos and, with their numerical advantage, reorganized their offensive. Sebastian, though highly skilled, could not fight against so many opponents while also keeping watch over Elsie's direction. He soon found himself overwhelmed and in grave danger.
In a well-coordinated pincer attack, one thug feinted at Sebastian while another silently circled behind, his dagger gleaming coldly as he thrust it directly at Elsie's back as she was trying to find an opening to escape!
Elsie was completely unaware of this.
"Look out!" Sebastian's pupils contracted sharply as he let out an almost tearing shout. He completely disregarded the punches and kicks coming at him, using all his strength to lunge sideways and slam his body into Elsie!
"Squelch——"
The muffled sound of a blade piercing flesh was disturbingly clear.
Elsie was knocked forward by an enormous force, scraping her elbows and knees bloody on the rough ground. She turned back in terror, just in time to see Sebastian standing in her place, with a dagger buried deep in his abdomen. His body violently shuddered, the color instantly draining from his face, his lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
"Sebastian!" Elsie's scream tore through the air.
Despite being severely injured, Sebastian erupted with terrifying strength. He grabbed the club swung by another thug with his free hand and used his body weight to slam the attacker hard onto the ground. His fierce counterattack, like that of a wounded tiger, temporarily drove back the encircling enemies. Staggering, leaving bright red bloody footprints with each step, he rushed to Elsie's side. With blood-covered hands, he grabbed her arm and desperately pushed her toward the car, his voice breaking with intense pain: "Get in... the car... quick... go..."
In the distance, the faint sound of police sirens finally reached them. Seeing this, the thugs quickly exchanged several short whistles before retreating like specters into the complex shadows of the warehouse, vanishing in an instant.
Sebastian's last bit of strength finally gave out. He let out a muffled groan and slid limply down the car door to the ground. Blood gushed out steadily, quickly pooling into a small, horrifying red puddle beneath him.
"No! No!" Elsie scrambled over on her hands and knees, kneeling on the cold muddy ground, desperately pressing her trembling hands against the wound in his abdomen, her palms instantly stained red with warm blood. "Hang in there! Please... the ambulance is coming soon!" Her voice carried an uncontrollable sob and unprecedented panic. The man who had just taken a knife for her overlapped yet contrasted sharply with her memory of the cold, manipulative Sebastian Deville, and the tremendous shock nearly broke her.
Sebastian's consciousness was rapidly fading, his face turning ashen, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow.
He struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, his unfocused gaze searching with difficulty before finally fixing on Elsie's tear-streaked face.
His lips quivered, producing an extremely faint sound that was almost just a breath of air.
Elsie pressed her ear tightly against his cold lips, holding her breath, barely managing to catch those few words squeezed out with his last strength:
"Protect... Elsie... well..."
Before he could finish, his head tilted to one side as he fell into a deep coma.
Elsie was struck as if by lightning, frozen in place, her blood seeming to congeal instantly. He had called her..."Elsie." Not "Emily," not any substitute name, but her real name, Elsie Lane. In that moment between life and death, he had clearly and unmistakably called out her true name. He had always known who she was, not just Emily's sister, but Elsie herself. And his final, heaviest entreaty was for her to keep herself safe.
Seven years of disguise, suspicion, and resentment, in the face of this one call and that surging blood, seemed so pale and laughable. The wall standing between them, built of lies, manipulation, and fear, at this moment collapsed thunderously, crumbling to dust. Immense regret, belated fear, and a kind of surging emotion that even she herself couldn't define overwhelmed her like a tsunami.
The siren sound grew closer, the ambulance's blue light cutting through the oppressive darkness of the warehouse district.
Elsie held Sebastian's increasingly cold body tightly, tears streaming down her face.
Would he survive? Why was the mastermind so determined to end her life? The mystery remained profound.
But one thing became clearer to Elsie than ever before: everything between her and Sebastian Deville had fundamentally changed.
