Baron tore a strip of cloth from his clothes and bandaged her up. He looked the Maid seriously in the eyes and said, "Miss Wanda, you’re a good person, just a very foolish one."

"But a foolish good person is still a good person. As I see it, good people shouldn’t feel guilty. The ones who should are the bad people."

Wanda stared blankly as the probationary Attendant, Ronnie, took out a Gold Coin from his clothes as if performing a magic trick and pressed it into her hand. "Chocolate. It’s very sweet."

......

After parting with Wanda, Baron followed Jack’s mental instructions and moved through several locations in Beowulf Manor. He endured the scolding of a few senior Attendants before returning to his assigned "employee dormitory."

He was off work earlier than scheduled.

Apparently, with the Dragon Hunting Ceremony drawing near, the Beowulf Family had been receiving visitors after dusk. These were either allied Old Blood Clans or members of the Law Enforcement Organization, coming to discuss confidential matters. Only the most trusted Attendants were given the opportunity to serve them.

Back in the employee dorms, he had to admit the conditions provided by the Beowulf Family were quite good. Otherwise, people wouldn’t be fighting tooth and nail to get a job here.

The bedroom was about twenty square meters and contained two beds. His roommate, Decker, was a Scotsman. Luckily, since the two weren’t close, Decker only stared for a few moments after Baron entered, probably wondering why Baron "looked" different than he had the past few days.

But he didn’t give it much thought. First, because he’d never paid his roommate much attention to begin with. Until one of them secured a permanent position, they were all rivals.

Second, as soon as Baron entered, he had pulled the covers over his head and lain down, giving Decker no chance for a closer look.

Not that they were close enough for a detailed inspection in the first place.

Even though they weren’t close, it didn’t stop Decker from putting on airs in front of Baron. Especially since he was an Old Race and Baron was a "Bloodless," a sense of pecking order between the have-nots naturally emerged.

It was the sort of thing like, "Oh, the Chief Steward praised my work today. If I just hand over half of this month’s pay, I might even get made permanent ahead of schedule."

"Sigh, I’m so tired. I was assigned to the front courtyard today to weed for Young Master Jose. I hear there’s a good chance he’ll be the next Patriarch... I think he’s part of the Pureblood Faction, too."

’The Pureblood Faction was similar to the Racial Knights Baron was familiar with. Their prejudice wasn’t based on skin color, but on the belief that the Old Race were inherently superior to the Bloodless.’

’Classic Slytherins.’

Baron understood Decker’s underlying message: once Young Master Jose took over, the Bloodless attendants in the Beowulf Family, people like Baron, would likely be out of a job.

’So passive-aggressive.’

From what Baron could tell, there was no real animosity between them. They hadn’t even interacted much before. Most of the time, his roommate just lay on his bed, muttering to himself.

Baron understood the feeling. It reminded him of his previous life, back when he was a screenwriter. His colleagues would be run ragged, completely manipulated by the toxic work culture, yet they’d still humblebrag. ’Ugh, the director always insists I work on the script, says I’m the only one who can handle it... It’s so annoying, and I even have a date tonight...’ That sort of thing.

It was all about projecting an image: ’I’m the only one who can help the emperor with his troubles. The rest of you aren’t good enough.’

’Ultimately,’ Baron thought, ’it’s just a way to give yourself a reason to keep going.’

"But you don’t need to worry too much. The Chief Steward told me that when Young Master Jose becomes the Patriarch, Miss Isabella will probably move out... and the Bloodless Attendants can all go with her..."

"It’s a shame about Miss Wanda, though... During training, she pulled me aside and we talked for a while... You don’t think she has a crush on me, do you? I mean, she has a great figure and isn’t bad-looking, but it’s a pity she’s a Bloodless..."

Baron suddenly said, "Do you know my name?"

Decker was taken aback, not immediately understanding the meaning behind his roommate’s question. But seeing the serious expression on his face, he answered, "Hemingway Schumacher... What’s gotten into you?"

’Hemingway Schumacher,’ Baron mused. ’So that’s my name. A tough-guy name with a need for speed.’

BANG! The bedroom door was thrown open. A voice that sounded like a dorm supervisor on rounds called out, "State your names for the registry."

"Gallio Decker."

"Hemingway Schumacher."

Once the supervisor jotted down their names and closed the door, Decker gaped at Baron. His expression was a mixture of disbelief. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t get the words out.

Baron said nonchalantly, "So the Chief Steward thinks highly of you? In what way, exactly?"

The moment the topic came up, Decker perked up. He instantly tossed his suspicions about Baron to the back of his mind and said eagerly:

"The Chief Steward and I are both Elian Sil people. We both speak Gaelic... He’s from Lewis Island, though, and I’m from Harris Island..."

It’s hard to dispel someone’s doubts, but it’s much easier to distract them.

Once he was sure Decker was asleep, Baron got out of bed, put on his Attendant uniform, and set his plan in motion, guided by the reconnaissance he’d done during the day.

The manor was divided into eight courtyards: four in the east and west, three in the front, and one in the back. The masters held their discussions in the East Courtyard, which was also where the confinement room was located.

It was now nighttime. The moon hung high in the sky, large and distant, casting a pale, ghostly light over the entire manor.

Baron moved with extreme caution. Whenever he encountered Guards, he would either hide, find a detour, or use his Little Flame Demon to create a diversion on the other side before slipping away.

He soon reached the confinement room.

The two Guards on duty were the same ones from that afternoon: the one who had coveted his compensation money, and the one who had led him to the Chief Steward.

The confinement room was located in a dead-end corridor with only one exit. Since no one would be foolish enough to try and steal something from there, only two Guards were posted.

Judging by their Spiritual Power fluctuations, they were just ordinary members of the Old Race, not Law Enforcers. Even with professional training and Alchemy Weapons in hand, the most they could handle was a Black Iron Tier Silver Demon Hunter.

It couldn’t be helped. After all, whether on the Inner Side or among the Proles, Silver Demon Hunters were known for having the worst bang for their buck of any profession in their tier, and consequently, the lowest barrier to entry.

At the Black Iron Tier, besides the Hunter’s Eye and Alchemy Circuits, the so-called three Command Spells they acquired could all be replicated with Alchemy Weapons. What’s more, two of those three "spells" were prerequisites for joining the Silver Faction, not powers granted by it.

It was only at the Bronze Tier, when they gained Authorities like Silver Hand and Execution Intuition, that they truly started to become effective.

This, in turn, gave Baron the perfect opportunity for a "prison break."

Using the ghostly speed characteristic of the Blood Faction, Baron shot forward. He first took down the guard who had led him earlier. Then, before the remaining money-grubbing Guard could react, Baron slammed a fist into his solar plexus.

A precise blow there, to the cluster of nerves around the liver, could incapacitate a man with sheer pain without being lethal, if the force was controlled.

Even though this Guard had tried to scam him out of compensation money and colluded with the Chief Steward to intimidate him, Baron was feeling merciful.

There was no need to use lethal force on someone who hadn’t earned a death sentence, especially when the grudge wasn’t personal.

The Guard coughed up a mouthful of blood from the impact of the punch. He collapsed heavily, his body convulsing for a moment before he fell unconscious in a growing pool of his own blood.

Baron rolled his eyes. ’Oops. So much for controlling my strength.’

He took the keys and money from the unconscious Guard and opened the iron door to the confinement room. Jack was inside, already packed and ready to go. He’d clearly been waiting a while, and the malicious, eager glint in his eye showed he was ready for action.

The two of them dragged both Guards into the confinement room and stashed them out of sight. The room was soundproof, so they weren’t worried about the Guards calling for help if they woke up.

Back outside the confinement room, Baron watched as Jack deftly pried open the iron-barred window, tossed the key back inside, and explained, "This is all to buy us more time." Then, Baron asked:

"So what’s next?"

Jack had only told him the plan for the prison break and how they would cover their tracks; he hadn’t explained how to get into the collection room for the Taboo Items, located somewhere beneath Beowulf Manor.

Jack slapped a fist into his palm and said proudly, "Simple! We take the tunnel I dug in the confinement room. It leads right to..."

His voice trailed off. Jack rubbed his chin, his expression shifting from focused to shocked, and finally, to awkward.

Facing Baron’s utterly impassive gaze, Jack asked tentatively, "As a Dragon Knight... you can open an iron door without a key and without making a sound, right?"

Baron sighed. ’The vice-president who picked this moron to be a Westminster Commissioner must have been blind.’

’Westminster Cathedral is doomed!’

......