The Swordswoman’s Revenge Story after Rebirth

Chapter 68: The Reason for a Heart’s Stir

Isolde was about to speak when a servant entered, announcing, “Mr. Becker, Oliver has arrived.”

Doug chuckled. “Wasn’t he drinking? Why’s he coming here so late? Quick, let him in.”

Isolde instinctively placed her feet on the floor and sat up straight. Doug shot her a knowing look. “Ah, so you do know how to act like a proper lady now?”

“I’m at home here, so I’m not so particular. He’s the guest, after all,” Isolde said, slightly embarrassed.

Doug patted her hand gently. “You really should consider my proposal, my dear.”

Isolde raised her glass. “Do you think I’m some rare catch? Everyone’s vying for me? He’s already promised to someone.”

“A promise can always be broken,” Doug said with a sly grin.

Isolde rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine, ignoring him.

Oliver had originally come out of boredom, looking for a drink. The earlier gathering had left him feeling irritated. He hadn’t expected to find Isolde here. Smiling, he said, “Isolde here as well? You two seem to be enjoying yourselves.”

Isolde smiled at him. In his blue silk robe, Oliver looked tall and poised. The candlelight softened his features, and his eyes sparkled with an almost hypnotic allure.

“You must’ve smelled the wine from afar, huh?” Isolde remarked with a playful glint in her eyes.

Oliver sat down, his robe flowing around him. “Of course. Mr. Becker’s place might not have much, but the wine’s always top-notch. Couldn’t resist the scent.”

As they sat close, a fragrance surrounding Isolde seemed to envelop her. The scent was intoxicating, reminding her of the night they’d spent hiding in the mountains. She couldn’t help but glance at him.

He, too, had been looking at her; their eyes met just as she looked up. Isolde had dressed casually in a loose-fitting blue robe, a male garment. Since she hadn’t brought any extra clothes, Doug had given her one of his freshly made robes. It was long and loose, and her hair was loosely tied up; she wore no makeup. Her flawless skin glowed naturally, and with her bare face, there was an ethereal beauty to her.

Oliver’s breath hitched slightly.

Doug, watching them quietly, called for more drinks. After a moment, he casually asked, “By the way, Oliver, I heard you’ve got a match arranged? Which family’s daughter?”

Oliver smiled. “Funny you should ask; it’s someone with my surname, Arthur’s sister, Cristina Felton.”

“Ah,” Doug said, a smile tugging at his lips, “that sounds promising.”

A servant brought a drink for Oliver, and he took the glass, expertly spinning it between his fingers without spilling a drop. “Yes, it’s a good match.”

Oliver smiled lightly. “What’s there to get excited about? A marriage is a marriage.”

“True, and your father only has you as his heir. You need to marry and continue the family line. But don’t marry just for the sake of it. If you’re not happy, break it off. There may be someone better down the road,” Doug advised.

Oliver sighed. “Agnes has already found this match for me. It’s not bad.”

Isolde, noticing Doug was about to say something decisive, quickly changed the subject. “By the way, William’s taking a concubine tonight. Shouldn’t you be at the family feast?”

“I’ve already had my fill, made my toast, left my money behind as a gesture. That’s about it,” Oliver said, taking another sip.

Isolde’s eyes widened. “You left behind money?”

“Didn’t know what else to give. Just left the money with them. They can buy whatever they like,” Oliver said, frowning. “Who has the time to guess what she’d like and prepare something special?”

Isolde laughed. “I bet your cousin’s furious.”

Doug raised a hand to silence them. “Alright, enough with the cousin jokes. Don’t go making up family ties now.” He yawned and stretched. “I’m getting old; I can’t stay up late anymore. Anyway, girl, about Milton’s case—you said you wanted to get involved. Well, Oliver’s here, so why don’t you talk about it with him while I catch some sleep?”

Isolde understood Doug’s little scheme. He wanted to leave her alone with Oliver, but she truly wanted to be part of this. She had her reasons, and this was the perfect opportunity to discuss it.

Oliver was a bit taken aback, narrowing his eyes in confusion. “Mr. Becker can’t stay up late? He can go days without sleep.”

Isolde quickly drank a glass of wine, feeling slightly embarrassed on Doug’s behalf. “He’s been busy lately. I think he’s genuinely tired.”

Oliver nodded. “Southern Watch has been keeping him occupied.” Looking at Isolde’s eyes, he asked, “You want to be part of Milton’s case?”

“Yes, I do,” Isolde replied. She began explaining her plan to him.

After listening, Oliver immediately shook his head. “No, Milton’s too skilled. You’re not his match.”

Isolde spoke softly. “Don’t worry, I know his weaknesses. I won’t have to fight him directly. Oliver, this is the best way. It will also lead us to the mastermind behind Shadowmere. Doug’s been investigating for so long and hasn’t been able to find him, but Milton’s the breakthrough we need.”

Oliver hesitated. He understood the case, but this plan was risky. If anything went wrong…

“You really don’t have to put yourself at risk. We can find someone else,” he said softly.

Isolde spoke patiently. “No, Oliver. I am the best choice for this. He hates me, which means he’ll keep his eyes on me.”

Oliver was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t agree to this.”

Isolde felt a flicker of frustration. “Why not? This was a solid plan. Not only could it lure out the mastermind behind the Shadowmere case, but it was also the best chance they had. What was he hesitating for?”

Oliver looked at her, his expression calm yet unwavering. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Isolde froze. “You…” Her breath hitched slightly. “Are you afraid something will happen to me, and you won’t be able to explain it to your master? Don’t worry. I’ll take responsibility.”

Oliver lowered his gaze, his long eyelashes casting a delicate shadow beneath his eyes. His fingers continued to absently rotate the cup in his hands as he murmured, “No… that’s not it. Either way, I won’t agree.”

A faint mist gathered in Isolde’s eyes. “Oliver,” she softened her voice, calling him by name instead of his title. Holding his gaze, she said, “You and I risked our lives for each other on Wolf Mountain. If I weren’t certain, would I have proposed this plan so easily? I am not some delicate noble lady meant to be sheltered in the inner chambers. I grew up on an estate. I am wild, unrestrained, and I have my own ways of dealing with my enemies. And you know this—if Milton isn’t eliminated, I will never have peace in the Duke’s estate. You know the reasons why. How many times can you protect me? Wouldn’t it be better to take him out for good?”

“To utterly destroy him, this is the only way. He’s a cunning old fox. You’ve been investigating him for so long and still haven’t broken through—that fact alone proves how difficult he is to corner.”

Oliver watched her, his eyes lingering on her unwavering gaze, on the fierce determination set in her expression. She wasn’t bitter about not being a pampered noblewoman; on the contrary, she wore it like a badge of honor.

He had no argument left. After a long silence, he finally exhaled in defeat and said, “Fine. But you have to promise me one thing.”