They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World-Chapter 115: Duke Glimor [1]

I walked back to the inn as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting Greyford’s rooftops in shades of orange and gold.

The day had been another exercise in frustration. More faces scanned. More dead ends.

My legs ached from walking. Eyes burned from constant use of the debug vision. And I was no closer to finding Agnes than I’d been three days ago.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor, each step feeling heavier than the last, and reached for the handle of my room.

The door burst open before I could touch it.

And something lunged at me.

I barely had time to process the movement before I was slammed backward, my spine hitting the floor hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. Weight crashed down on my chest. Hands wrapped around my throat.

Not squeezing. Not yet. But positioned to.

"What the—" I choked out, my own hands coming up instinctively to grab the attacker’s wrists.

Red hair. Green eyes wild with something between panic and fury.

Scarlet?

She sat on my chest, pinning me down, her breathing ragged and uneven. Her fingers trembled against my throat, like she couldn’t decide whether to squeeze or let go.

"It’s you," she hissed, her voice cracking on the words.

Then just as suddenly as she’d attacked, she scrambled off me, backed away fast, nearly stumbling, until her shoulders hit the far wall of my room.

I lay there for a second, catching my breath, one hand going to my throat.

What the hell?

Then pushing myself up slowly, noting the door still open behind me. I stood, closed it carefully, checking the lock that she’d somehow picked to get in here.

Then I moved further into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Watching her.

Scarlet stood pressed against the wall, arms wrapped tight around herself.

Her shoulders were hunched forward, making her look smaller than she actually was. Her tail, usually glamoured away or hidden somehow, was visible now. Pressed flat against her leg like she was trying to make herself disappear.

She looked nothing like the aggressive fighter who’d nearly killed me three nights ago.

She looked terrified.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

I didn’t push. Something told me that would just make her lash out again or run.

So I waited.

Finally, after what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds, she spoke.

"I found your stupid person." Her voice was rough, barely above a whisper. She didn’t look at me, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. "Someone who matches the description."

I leaned forward slightly. "Agnes?"

"Maybe. Probably." Her hands clenched tighter around her arms, fingers digging into fabric. "I don’t know for sure. You didn’t exactly give me much to work with."

"But you found someone?"

"Auburn hair. Green eyes. Late twenties." The words came out clipped, mechanical, like she was reciting a list. "Working as a maid at an estate in the merchant district."

My heart jumped.

"You’re sure?"

"No, I’m not sure!" She snapped, finally looking at me.

Her eyes were red-rimmed. Tears still visible on her cheeks despite her obvious attempts to hide them.

"You gave me almost nothing!" She stopped herself, breathing hard, visibly forcing control back into her voice. "The woman I saw... she fits. Works at a wealthy estate. Right age range. That’s all I can tell you."

She turned away again, staring at the wall.

"That’s the best I can do."

I nodded slowly, my mind already racing ahead. An estate in the merchant district. That narrowed it down significantly.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "That’s actually really helpful."

"Don’t thank me." Her voice went bitter, hard. "I’m not going back there. If you want to verify it’s her, you do it yourself."

Not going back?

I studied her more carefully now. Really looked.

The way she was holding herself, like something might break if she moved wrong. The trembling in her hands that she couldn’t quite hide. The fear that had been in her eyes when she’d first seen me.

Something happened.

"Which estate?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

She was quiet for a long moment. Then, barely audible:

"The one owned by... by someone they call Lord Glimor."

Her whole body shivered saying the name.

My eyes widened slightly.

Duke Cyrus Glimor?

I frowned, my mind pulling up everything I knew about that name.

They’re a powerful family. Merchant nobility to be precise. Who had holdings throughout the kingdom.

And rumors, there were always rumors, about them...

Shit.

"Scarlet—"

"Don’t." She cut me off sharply. "Don’t ask. We had a deal. I found someone matching your description. That’s what you paid me for. The rest isn’t your business."

I opened my mouth to press, then closed it.

She’s scared.

Whatever happened at that estate, it was bad enough to shake someone who’d tried to rob and kill me without hesitation.

I stood slowly, moving to the small table by the window where I’d left my coin pouch. I counted out the silver carefully. Thirty pieces. More than we’d agreed on.

I held it out to her.

She stared at the coins like they might burn her.

For a second I thought she might refuse.

Then she moved forward in a rush, snatched them from my hand, and pocketed them in one smooth motion before backing away again.

"This doesn’t change anything," she said, her voice steadier now but still strained. "Our deal is done. The mark stays suppressed as long as you maintain the seal. But I’m not doing anything else for you."

She paused at the door, her hand on the handle.

"Especially not..." She stopped herself, jaw clenching so hard I could see the muscle jump. "Just stay away from that estate if you’re smart. And stay away from me."

The door opened.

She slipped through.

And was gone.

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at where she’d been.

The Glimor estate.

Then I moved to the window, looking out over Greyford’s streets as they slowly filled with evening lamplight. Lamplighters moved from post to post with their long poles, bringing small circles of warm light to the gathering darkness.

Duke Cyrus Glimor’s estate.

If Agnes was really there, working as a maid in that household...

I frowned, my hand unconsciously going to the wooden token in my pocket.

Tomorrow. I’ll check the Glimor estate tomorrow.