The morning when the wind stopped.

However, there were those who could not sleep. There were many sleepless people, but without a doubt, Michelle was one of the most significant among them.

As a military officer who climbed up from the bottom, he was born in the slums of the Northern Royal Capital District during his childhood, before the industrial age had arrived, and he couldn't even work in factories.

With no way out, he could only place his hopes on the military.

At first, he was just an unranked grunt, after all, locals like him were everywhere in the military, doing the dirty and tiring work, but when it came to merit, none of it belonged to them.

Originally, he was destined to die at the bottom of the military hierarchy, just like countless others of his kind.

At that time, the fourth Moerma purge began.

He seized the opportunity, exchanging the blood and tears of his kinsmen for a path to promotion.

Even in this purge, he captured the most crucial opportunity of his life, risking his life to save the Eldest Prince Havenius from an assassination during a tour.

From then on, he was favored by Havenius and rose rapidly.

He first became Havenius's personal guard and later transferred to the Kingdom Defense Bureau. Leveraging his military achievements and the Eldest Prince's influence, he quickly rose to a high rank as the director of the third division of the Operations Department in just a few years.

In a sense, his life was quite legendary; it could be said that his life was the standard template that Trafford aspired to.

Therefore, he also had high hopes for Trafford.

However...

Trafford recently has been continually disappointing him.

Especially tonight, no, it was already last night.

Last night was a very crucial night. Trafford had pounded his chest and promised to bring everyone back by sunrise.

In the past, when Trafford said so, he would always deliver.

This was evident in his past career, and it was precisely this trait that convinced Michelle to promote him all the way, even originally intending to have him take charge of the fourth division.

But ever since he had that thought, everything took a sudden downward turn.

"Still haven't found Trafford yet?"

Michelle, who had been sitting with his eyes closed in the chair, opened his eyes as the door was knocked and opened.

It was another one of his trusted confidants who came in.

The confidant glanced at another person in the room and slowly shook his head.

Then he said, "Not just Trafford, the entire team has disappeared."

"The entire team has disappeared?"

Michelle furrowed his brows.

This was something he absolutely did not expect.

The South District, again the South District.

The last time, Trafford had also failed in the South District.

What kind of magic does this South District hold?

"We've already sent people to investigate the situation, but since Trafford took many people away, and many are still in the fifth division awaiting orders, our manpower is limited. It might take some time."

Michelle didn't speak but looked at the third person in the room.

This person also had the appearance of someone who hadn't slept all night, appearing somewhat fatigued. Yet he maintained a good demeanor, gently pushing up the glasses on his nose, and then smiled, "If that's the case, I should check on my brother first. He won't be at ease until he's here."

"Is that okay?"

Michelle felt a bit apologetic.

After all, the problem originated from his side, and having such outcomes was entirely thanks to the man before him.

This was a truly ruthless person, even a cold-hearted individual like Michelle couldn't help but sigh.

He merely used the blood of his kinsmen to trade for his future, but this person directly used his own brother's blood to secure his future.

Jonas Evans.

"It's fine. Since childhood, my brother has never beaten me, never."

He laughed and took off his glasses, then carefully polished them with a silk handkerchief. After a while, he put them back on, got up, adjusted his suit, and left the room.

As he left, he turned back to Michelle and the other man, saying, "By the way, do you want some coffee? I can bring back two cups for you when I return. I've heard the coffee in the interrogation room is quite good."

"Thank you."

Michelle simply smiled and nodded.

It wasn't until the door closed that he looked at his confidant and said in a low voice, "That's why you should never provoke such people, or else who knows when they might bite back."

Jonas didn't hear this, even if he had, he would have just laughed it off, taking nothing to heart.

Because since childhood, he had heard many similar remarks.

People who made such remarks usually had one of two outcomes.

First, they weren't even qualified to speak with him, so there was no need to care, as other factors would naturally drown them out.

Second, they were already dead.

It wasn't too far from the third division to the interrogation room, even walking slowly, Jonas reached it in fifteen minutes.

Although he was not part of the Kingdom Defense Bureau, at such a time, everyone was making way for him.

The door of the interrogation room opened, and once again, without any escort, he met with the person considered an important offender, Joseph.

"Joseph, how was it? Did you sleep well last night?"

Sitting down, with a flawless posture and a smile, he looked at the brother opposite him.

In a way, everything about Joseph was a replica of Jonas, such as his impeccable demeanor, affable temperament, even the smile, and the speed of speaking.

However, that seemed to belong to the past.

After the public trial in Wenster failed, Joseph changed, perhaps tired of this act, or perhaps he had returned to his true self.

Now he was even more himself, even if he might seem a bit crude in high society.

But he liked himself this way now.

Just casually sitting there, legs apart, with a face full of unkempt stubble, and seemingly not having bathed in a long time, almost like a homeless person, yet he was unexpectedly calm.

As if utterly unreasonably, he had fallen in love with a female painter of lower-class origins, who was also a conspirator.

In the past, this was impossible.

This would be something that belonged in Joseph's favorite joke collection.

Now he didn't care and even enjoyed this feeling a bit.

Perhaps being oneself felt great.

"Not bad. So, Jonas, my dearest brother, you're not here just to generously wish me good morning, are you? Where is the person I want to see?"

Saying this, he glanced towards the door.

"I've captured her already, but to ensure everything proceeds smoothly to the end, I've changed my mind. You'll only see her once today's matters are concluded."

Jonas leisurely said, as if everything he said were true.

Joseph's previously relaxed expression suddenly tensed upon hearing this.

"What if I say no?"