Chapter Sixty-three: Saint Francis Hospital

October 22, 2237, St. Francis Avenue, London

A figure appeared on St. Francis Avenue in London, running swiftly until he reached a hospital adorned with a red cross shield emblem. This was a special hospital, serving only military personnel and their families.

The man entering the hospital was none other than Count Dragonfly, a prominent member of the princess’s retinue. He rushed to the reception desk and presented his credentials. “Hello, Count. Someone asked me to give you this note,” said the nurse, handing him a slip of paper.

“Count, I have no interest in the princess. Let her continue investigating that young man, but the princess’s identity must not be revealed. And one more thing: there’s no need to look for the messenger—a shilling can accomplish many things.”

Upon reading the letter, the count slammed his fist onto the desk. The words were all printed, making it impossible to trace the writer by handwriting. Helpless, he stuffed the note into his pocket. He understood now: the princess’s identity was known by more than one person, yet he could do nothing. The mysterious sender had not harmed Her Highness and remained elusive… Lord Trecy… He alone was, so far, the only royal member to run away from home. And… the note suggested the princess should keep following Mingchuan. The count wondered if Mingchuan suspected the princess’s identity, or if he had developed feelings for her. He longed to visit the princess, but if Mingchuan saw him during the parliamentary session, it would only arouse suspicion, even if none existed before.

Just as the count was about to leave, a voice sounded beside him: “Count, the court meeting isn’t held here. What brings you to this place?” Startled, the count turned sharply. That voice… “Commander Roger de Moulin of the Hospital Knights—welcome!” The speaker, a man in his forties, wore a white coat over the order’s ceremonial robes, his chest emblazoned with a white badge and red cross. He greeted the count with the highest knightly salute, though Commander Roger held the title of duke.

“Commander Roger! Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at the front?” the count exclaimed, surprised but not fearful.

“I am the head of hospitals worldwide. I needn’t report my whereabouts to His Majesty. But you—why aren’t you attending the meeting, lingering here instead?”

“I have a friend being discharged today. I wanted to welcome him, but it seems he left early…” The count improvised, but Commander Roger was skeptical.

“A friend’s discharge? You do realize most patients here are long-term cases—none are being released anytime soon. I’ve just reviewed the files; I couldn’t be mistaken.” Commander Roger pressed him, and the count knew the more he said, the more likely he’d reveal himself.

“Perhaps I’ve mistaken the hospital. Maybe he was treated at a private clinic. Well, since he’s not here, I won’t stay.” In truth, the count still hoped to obtain information regarding the princess, but dared not ask. Roger sensed this and, pretending to examine documents, casually picked up a file from the counter and remarked, “I hear this contains records for wounded members of the Thunder Squad. The injuries are severe…”

“May I have a look?” the count asked offhandedly.

Roger smiled slyly (“Ha! Got you!”): “What’s this? The count is interested as well?” He handed over the file, and the count took it, scanning quickly. He lingered especially over Wenxin’s records. “Chlorine poisoning? But isn’t there a filtration device?”

“There is,” Roger replied, “but apparently they didn’t have time to use it before exposure. They wore night vision goggles, and couldn’t see a thing.”

“I see!” The count returned the file. “Sorry to have taken your time. I should be going.”

“Safe travels,” Roger replied with a knightly salute, bidding the count farewell, who left without so much as a backward glance.

“Thankfully he’s not His Highness the Crown Prince, or I’d be in trouble!” the count thought as he departed. Meanwhile, Roger turned to the counter, saying, “Your Highness, you can drop the act—he’s gone now.”

“As expected, Sir Roger. No matter how I disguise myself, your powers of discernment surpass mine,” replied the young woman at the desk, her beauty vanishing as she shed her disguise to reveal an elegant young man. “That fool of a count didn’t even notice the tampered records, lingering over Wenxin’s file as he did. No matter; my ‘brother’ should have finished his task by now, and I must hurry back as well!”

—Aside—

I’m currently traveling in Hainan, so updates will be limited to this novel. With the winter holiday upon us, I wish everyone a joyful break—and may I update daily!