Novel Full Chapter 605: Don’t You Know Me?
Chapter 605: Don’t You Know Me?
The morning in Thornvale was already alive with the hum of voices and the shuffle of boots against the ground.
Sunlight spilled across the crooked roofs and damp alleys of the town. Near the market square, a modest inn stood tucked between two old trade buildings — its wooden sign creaking faintly with every breeze.
A man stepped through the inn’s doorway, his frame wrapped in a traveler’s coat dusted with road grit. His expression was mild, unremarkable, the kind that could blend into any crowd.
To anyone watching, he looked no different from a merchant making his routine stop before heading to the next town.
“Ah, back already,” the innkeeper said, glancing up from polishing a mug behind the counter. His tone carried the warmth of recognition. “Off early today?”
The man smiled faintly, dipping his head in greeting. “Business doesn’t wait, friend. Had to see a few buyers before breakfast.”
The innkeeper chuckled, setting the mug down. “You merchants and your business… At least trade’s been better lately. Ever since the new lord took over, Thornvale’s looking livelier by the day.”
“Is that so?” the man replied smoothly, his tone polite.
“Mm. People feel safer now. The guards stopped their nonsense, and there’s been less trouble from the outer roads.” The innkeeper grinned, pride slipping into his voice. “You can tell good leadership when you see it. This new viscount’s the real deal.”
The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Seems so.”
The innkeeper mistook the mild tone for agreement and kept going, warmth in his words. “You can’t imagine what a relief it’s been for folks like us. Fewer fights, more travelers, better coin flow. If you ask me, Thornvale might finally have its golden stretch.”
“Let’s hope it lasts,” the man said softly.
With that short reply and a small nod, he took the keys the innkeeper slid across the counter and headed up the narrow staircase. The boards creaked underfoot, though he moved light enough to barely disturb the dust.
Once he reached the second floor, his faint smile vanished. His steps grew measured, silent. By the time he reached his room, his expression was flat. He closed the door behind him with care, waited a second, then turned the lock.
Satisfied, he moved toward the window and let the curtain fall halfway open. From here, he could see a sliver of Thornvale’s outer walls and, in the distance, the faint silhouette of the viscount’s manor.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
He had been here for nearly a week. The count’s orders had been simple: observe, report, and, if opportunity allowed, confirm the new viscount’s strength. The man didn’t need to ask why. Everyone under Count Hellen knew that Thornvale was too rich to be left alone without oversight.
Still, this particular order had come with unspoken caution.
The count had not called the young lord an enemy. But when power shifted hands, even a neutral figure could become a threat. Especially one rumored to be powerful beyond his years.
The man exhaled quietly and sank onto the edge of the bed. The faint ache in his knees reminded him how far he’d come — from starving on the streets of Hellen’s capital to sitting here, living on the count’s coin.
He remembered being seven when they found him, scrounging behind a butcher’s stall for scraps. He hadn’t cared who they were then; he just wanted to eat. But that day had marked the start of a different hunger — the kind that replaced innocence with obedience.
He and others like him had been trained for the count’s darker errands: theft, silence, and death. Those who couldn’t adapt died quickly. He had survived. Barely.
A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips. Among his set, only four remained alive.
And now here he was again — another mission, another name, another face.
His gaze returned to the manor’s direction. He hadn’t yet seen the viscount, not even from afar. The young lord stayed mostly within his estate, surrounded by people who were anything but ordinary.
He’d seen glimpses of two of them — a cloaked figure who moved like a shadow, and a knight Captain whose presence he couldn’t quite read. The aura they carried made even his trained instincts bristle.
It wasn’t fear that held him back, though. Fear had been beaten out of him years ago.
It was calculation.
If he made a move too early and failed, the consequences would echo far beyond Thornvale.
So, he waited.
For now, he would stay the quiet merchant who smiled at innkeepers and bought bread from local vendors. He would keep his reports coded and his steps light. When the time came, and the viscount lowered his guard, then he would act.
Until then, Thornvale would know him only as another face passing through.
Or so he thought.
Knock knock!
He froze before the second knock.
His weight shifted off the bed without a sound. One hand slipped beneath the mattress, fingers closing around the thin blade hidden there.
“Who’s there?” he asked, voice mild, almost bored.
A beat of silence. Then a young, amused voice through the wood:
“Mic Nor. Haven’t you been paying attention to me lately?”
His grip tightened. Mic Nor?
Why did that name sound familiar?
Wait!
Wasn’t that the name of the young Lord he was tasked to watch?
He knew instantly — he’d been found.
No cover. No escape.
He lunged for the window, but his body froze mid-motion. A crushing weight pinned him where he stood, as though gravity itself had turned against him. Sweat trickled down his face as panic clawed at his chest.
Move. Nothing.
The air thickened, cold and absolute, squeezing his lungs until his thoughts blurred.
The count… he picked the wrong one to provoke, flashed through his mind—right before darkness claimed him.Before he lost full consciousness, he thought he heard a voice.
“Your tracking skills are good. I had my doubts, but the way he ran when he heard my name says a lot.”
“Tie him up.”
“Yes.”