It had been a week since the attack on the Ashcrofts. In that time, Silas had meticulously combed through newspapers, searching for any leads. One thing had become clear—the people who had attacked Victor were not the same ones who always left a distinctive symbol in the newspapers: a gear with an eye etched at its center near any headline involving the Ashcrofts. This realization only deepened the mystery.


    Despite his efforts, Silas had no solid clues. The more he searched, the more questions arose. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.


    "For now, I just have to stick to Victor," he murmured to himself. "Maybe I''ll find some clues by staying close to him. Maybe the attacker is someone within his circle, and he doesn''t even realize it."


    He glanced down at his injured ankle, moving it slightly. The pain was almost gone.


    "Seems like it''s nearly healed. At least now I won''t have to hold back in a fight."


    The clock struck eleven in the morning. The house was empty. With nothing holding him back, he decided to visit Ashcog Industries and meet Victor. If he wanted answers, he had to observe the people Victor interacted with.


    ---


    Bloom School of History


    The Bloom School of History was one of the few prestigious educational institutions in the Windmere Republic. The education system in the republic was fast-paced; students graduated from school by eighteen, and while university was an option, most people from Windmere Village chose not to continue. As a result, university attendance was low, with only a handful pursuing higher education.


    Clara sat in her classroom, her fingers idly flipping through the pages of her book, but she wasn''t reading. Her mind was elsewhere—lost in worry. The recent attacks on her family had left her uneasy. It wasn''t her own safety that troubled her, but the safety of her loved ones.


    Her classroom, located on the second floor of the large, stone-structured building, was well-lit by gas lamps mounted on each pillar. The wooden floors creaked softly as students shifted in their seats. Wooden benches and chairs filled the room, and a sleek blackboard stood at the front.


    A familiar voice broke through her thoughts.


    "Clara…"


    She jolted and turned to her right. Meg, her closest friend, sat beside her. A thin girl of average height, Meg had sharp brown eyes and hair tied in a neat ponytail. She wore the standard red and black school uniform.


    "You''re not here," Meg observed. "What''s on your mind?"


    Clara sighed. "I''m sure you''ve heard about what''s been happening to my family. My brother was attacked one day, and the next day, my father was targeted. I can''t help but be worried."


    Meg nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I read about it in the newspaper. I can understand why you''d be shaken."


    There was a pause before Meg''s eyes lit up with curiosity. "By the way, you mentioned your brother. So, you have an adopted brother now?"


    Clara smiled faintly. "Not adopted. He''s my real brother as far as I''m concerned. My parents took him in when I was eight, but he was away studying in another city all these years."


    Meg grinned mischievously. "What''s his name? Is he handsome?"


    Clara smirked. "Yes, and I''m not letting you meet him."


    Meg pouted, crossing her arms. "That''s not fair! I let you meet my brother, didn''t I? Why won''t you return the favor?"


    Clara''s smirk deepened. "Because he''s already taken, hehehe. My mother told me Sara is interested in him."


    Meg''s eyes widened. "Wait… you mean Sara? The popular stage actress?"


    Clara nodded smugly. "Yep. That''s how handsome my brother is."


    Meg let out a dramatic sigh. "I thought I had a chance to steal him away." She feigned disappointment, making Clara burst into laughter.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ---


    Back at the Ashcroft Estate


    Silas adjusted his attire, ensuring he looked presentable. He donned his hat, strapped his twin pistols securely, and slipped a handful of Ironbits into his pocket. He then instructed a servant to prepare a carriage for him.


    Once ready, he climbed into the carriage, and it began its journey toward Ashcog Industries. The city was alive with movement—machinery roared, markets bustled with activity, and the alleys blurred past as the carriage wheels rolled forward.


    As he gazed out of the window, his eyes fell upon a large building—the Economic Department of Ashport City. In the open ground ahead, white pigeons pecked at scattered pieces of bread as people tossed them food.


    He leaned out slightly, taking in the sight of airships drifting through the sky.


    "It''s been years since I reincarnated into this world, and I''ve never once ridden one of those," he murmured. "I should try it sometime. I wonder how the city looks from above."


    His thoughts were interrupted by murmurs outside. People pointed in his direction, whispering amongst themselves. He could hear them mentioning his name—Victor Ashcroft''s son, the one who was attacked.


    "Well, of course they know me now," he muttered. "The newspapers had my picture all over them."


    Then a realization struck him. "Wait… where did they get that picture?"


    After a moment, he recalled the train station ceremony. Reporters had flooded the area, snapping photos of Victor''s return.


    But something else unsettled him.


    Not all of the gazes directed at him were mere curiosity. In some eyes, he saw anger.


    He shifted uncomfortably, pulling his head back into the carriage. Why are people angry at me?


    As he glanced out again, his sharp eyes caught movement in a nearby alley. A shadowy figure, clad in a dark cloak, lurked just beyond the busy street.


    Silas tensed. Who was that?


    Then he noticed something chilling. It wasn''t just one figure. Every alley he passed seemed to have someone—obscured in darkness, cloaked, watching.


    "Am I being followed?" His fingers instinctively brushed against his pistols. "Is another attack coming?"


    Yet, despite the unsettling presence, nothing happened. No attack. No confrontation. Just the silent, looming figures observing his every move.


    When he finally arrived at Ashcog Industries, he stepped out cautiously, scanning his surroundings. The cloaked figures had vanished.


    "Why didn''t they attack?" he muttered. "Are they just keeping an eye on me?"


    Brushing off his unease, he paid the carriage driver and pocketed his hands as he walked toward the entrance. The sun hung high, yet the cold wind carried a sharp edge. The rhythmic hissing of factory machines filled the air.


    Two guards at the entrance straightened upon seeing him, bowing slightly. "Welcome, Silas."


    "Where is the head office? I need to see Victor."


    One of the guards gestured toward the building. "This way, sir."


    Silas nodded and followed, his mind racing with questions.


    The mystery surrounding the attacks was only deepening. And now, it seemed, unseen eyes were watching his every move.


    —


    Victor''s Office


    Victor sat in his office, his fingers idly tapping against the polished wooden desk as he scanned a set of blueprints detailing his industry''s latest invention. The Ashcog Industries headquarters hummed with activity beyond the tall windows, steam-powered machinery hissing and clanking in rhythmic unison. The scent of ink and paper filled the room, mingling with the faint aroma of coal burning in the furnaces below.


    A sharp knock echoed against the door.


    Knock. Knock.


    "Come in," Victor called out, setting the papers aside.


    The door swung open, revealing a tall, striking young man with long blonde bangs framing his face—Silas.


    "Ah, Silas! It''s you," Victor greeted, a smile forming on his lips. "What brings you here?" He gestured toward the leather chairs in front of his desk. "Come, sit."


    Silas stepped in, shutting the door behind him before casually settling into one of the chairs. "I was bored at home, so I figured I''d drop by," he said, stretching his arms behind his head.


    Victor chuckled. "A good decision. I was starting to feel a bit restless myself." He leaned back in his chair. "Did Clara go to school?"


    Silas nodded. "Yeah, she left earlier this morning."


    Victor''s expression turned serious. "Did she have guards with her? It''s dangerous for any of us to move around unprotected, especially after the recent attacks." He instinctively glanced at his shoulder, still wrapped in bandages from the incident.


    Silas reassured him, "I sent two of our best guards with her, so there''s no need to worry. Plus, I''ll be picking her up myself once school ends."


    Victor let out a relieved sigh, nodding in approval. "Good. It would put my mind at ease knowing you''ll be the one escorting her." He paused for a moment before his gaze softened. "Are you happy with us, Silas?"


    The question caught Silas off guard. He blinked, hesitating for a second before answering with a small smile. "I couldn''t be happier."


    Victor''s own smile widened. "That''s all I needed to hear."


    A moment of quiet understanding passed between them before Victor leaned forward. "Would you like some tea or coffee?"


    "Tea would be fine," Silas replied.


    As Victor called for a servant, Silas hesitated, debating whether to bring up what he had seen on his way here. Finally, he decided it was important. "Something strange happened while I was coming here," he said, his tone lowering. "I noticed people in dark cloaks following me through the city."


    Victor''s eyes flickered with recognition, but he remained composed. "I see… You''re certain they were following you?"


    Silas nodded. "They weren''t trying to attack, at least not yet. But they were watching me closely."


    Victor sighed, rubbing his temples. He already knew who those men were—Edgar''s people. The Ashcroft family''s butler had been instructed to keep an eye on Silas, ensuring his safety without his knowledge. But if Silas had noticed them so easily, it meant something was amiss.


    "There''s something you should know, Silas," Victor said, shifting the conversation. "Someone has been spreading dangerous rumors about the Ashcrofts. You''re aware of the government''s recent ban on Bitsee Coin, correct?"


    Silas furrowed his brows. "Yeah, I read about it. The government stopped accepting it."


    Victor nodded grimly. "And they started the ban with our train travel transactions. Now, the entire city believes we were behind the decision. The public is furious."


    Silas exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. "So we''re not just dealing with hidden enemies in the shadows—now the city itself might turn against us."


    Victor folded his hands together. "Precisely. People are looking for someone to blame, and right now, all fingers are pointing at us."


    "Has the government even bothered to clarify that we weren''t involved?" Silas asked, though he already had an idea of the answer.


    Victor shook his head. "No, and I doubt they will unless we push the issue. That''s why I''m planning to address it publicly. We''re unveiling a new invention soon, and I''ve invited King Gerard to the announcement ceremony. I''ll use that opportunity to discuss this matter with him."


    Silas nodded, his mind already processing the potential outcomes. "So we need to be on guard—not just against these mysterious attackers, but against the city''s growing resentment."


    Victor met his gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. "Exactly."


    A servant soon arrived, placing a tray with two cups of steaming tea on the desk. As Victor and Silas settled into conversation over their drinks, the door suddenly burst open.


    Edgar, the Ashcroft family''s longtime butler, rushed into the room, his face pale with urgency.


    "Sir… sir…" he panted, his normally composed demeanor shattered.


    Victor and Silas froze, setting down their teacups.


    "What''s wrong, Edgar?" Victor asked, standing up.


    The butler swallowed hard, his voice shaking.


    "Things are not okay, sir."


    A tense silence filled the room. If Edgar was this shaken, then something truly dire had happened.