Chapter Four: The Final Question

“If you seek joy, come to Wenster!
If you desire fine wine, come to Wenster!
If you long to savor freedom and the sea breeze, then Wenster is where you belong!
Wenster, oh, the pearl of the North Sea, the favored child of Isis...”

The song drifted from afar, yet Ethan heard it with remarkable clarity—every word, every syllable. He could even discern the faint noise of the accordion being played beside the singer.

He felt his body grow agile and strong, despite the biting cold wind and the relatively thin formal wear he donned; not a hint of chill touched him.

At the same time, he sensed a heavy malice lurking in the surrounding darkness—thick as blood, slow-flowing and unyielding.

This malevolence must have come from Joan’s men, who had long lain in ambush outside, waiting for Ethan.

It was difficult for Ethan to explain how he knew these were hostile intentions, yet he knew—this was the power of his name.

The bearer and protector of violence.

If he could summon it, he could certainly perceive it.

“Before we proceed, I have one last question for you, Anya.”

——————

The lights of the North Sea Star dazzled brightly, as if it were broad daylight.

Entering the hotel lobby, crafted entirely from pure white marble, Ethan caught the faint strains of a melodious tune—some kind of banquet was taking place within.

Yet, naturally, he was not here to join the festivities. His contract signing with Joan was arranged in a temporary meeting room on the second floor of the hotel.

Led by an attendant, they soon arrived outside the meeting room.

Joan and Fred awaited them.

Seeing them, Ethan confirmed that the figures he had seen in the depths of that oceanic vision were indeed these two men.

Joan appeared younger, perhaps in his thirties, and fiercer. His gaze upon Ethan was raw and predatory, like a beast sizing up its prey.

Fred was older, likely in his early fifties, his hair already grayed. His eyes were gentler, and he greeted Ethan: “Young Master Ethan… it’s been a long time.”

Indeed, Ethan recalled, Fred had once been a member of the Poleta family and his father’s right-hand man.

But later, his ambition swelled, and he sought to fracture the family, only to be marginalized by Alberto.

——————

Surprisingly, he ultimately betrayed the family.

So Alberto’s ambush and Leonardo’s entire army’s annihilation were no longer baffling.

There was a traitor within.

“Are we signing the contract now?” Ethan snorted coldly, feigning impatience.

“Don’t be hasty, young master. The honorable Lord Sandro’s representative hasn’t arrived yet, has he? We must wait for him to witness the signing together; otherwise, you wouldn’t feel at ease, would you?”

Joan’s beard was coarse and prominent. As he spoke, he rubbed it as if brushing iron bristles.

Ethan instinctively took a step back, forcing a smile, “Yes.”

Joan nodded satisfactorily, then turned and pushed open the meeting room door, entering first.

The meeting room’s decor was understated yet luxurious, with touches of classical elegance that contrasted with the exterior style but did not clash.

The centerpiece was undoubtedly the wooden conference table, bathed in the dim light of the crystal ceiling, imparting an extraordinarily solemn atmosphere.

Joan took the seat of honor without hesitation, fixing his gaze on Ethan. “Young master, how old are you this year?”

Ethan ignored him, choosing instead to sit directly opposite and close his eyes to rest.

The contract had been brought by Sandro’s people. The drafter was Sandro’s personal lawyer, the renowned barrister Duval, well connected with the political elite of Wenster City. The contract he drafted naturally carried supreme contractual authority.

In truth, contract law—or rather, the spirit of contract—was the very foundation upon which the Kingdom of Antustat was built. There, contracts held even more power than Ethan had imagined.

If Ethan were merely recalling memories of his former self, he might have thought this was the strength of civilization.

But now, he could not help but suspect that authority was at play behind the scenes—someone in Antustat’s upper echelons wielded power over contracts.

Hence, this force was difficult to defy. Even a desperate man like Joan had to wait for Ethan to sign before striking.

With eyes closed, Ethan quietly observed Joan and Fred.

Compared to viewing them through a screen, being this close made the sensations far more vivid and intense.

He could feel the thick malice and violent aura emanating from both men, ready to devour him at any moment.

Yet, at the same time, he felt that he could control those auras—at least to isolate them at a critical instant.

But Ethan chose not to act; he simply waited.

After a long while, the meeting room door opened again. A middle-aged man wearing a stand-collared coat and a bowler hat stepped in.

——————

This man was likely Emilio, Sandro’s fourth-in-command.

He carried a leather briefcase and seated himself midway along the conference table.

“Everyone, I suppose idle chatter is over, yes? Let us get straight to the point.”

Without wasting a word, Emilio opened his briefcase and produced a stack of carefully bound papers, tossing them toward Ethan.

Though thrown, the papers landed smoothly, silently, and with poise.

This clearly demonstrated Emilio’s mastery of strength and finesse.

“Ethan of the Poleta family, you may review the contract terms first. If there are no issues, please sign. The pen is included.”

Emilio placed his hands on the table, palms open, artificially dividing the table’s two sides, assuming the role of an impartial arbiter.

Ethan casually flipped through the contract, not scrutinizing it, then picked up the pen, ready to sign.

At the very moment Ethan was about to put pen to paper, Joan narrowed his eyes, his gaze wolfish and hungry.

“Let me ask once more: if I sign, can I leave Wenster safely?”

Ethan’s question carried a trace of hesitation.

“Of course. The esteemed Lord Sandro brokered this ceasefire. He promised that once the contract is signed, Ethan of the Poleta family may depart Wenster unharmed.”

Emilio spoke with the authority of a judge.

“Very well.” Ethan nodded and signed without further hesitation.

Joan’s smile grew even more pronounced.

When Ethan finished signing and pushed the contract back toward Emilio, a moment of calm washed over him—that serene pause before savoring the final fruit. What followed would be the hunt.

“Joan!”

Suddenly, for some unknown reason, the Poleta heir called out his name.

Joan instinctively lifted his head.