The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin chapter 201


The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

Chapter 201. The Whispers of Secrets (3)

“Princess Arin, it’s Resmus.”

Despite announcing himself alongside the knock, there was no reply.

With that, Resmus cautiously opened the door and entered.

At the center of the room, Princess Arin was seated at a desk busily attending to her official duties.

Dozens of documents that needed sorting were neatly arranged in front of her.

“I’ve just sent out the imperial edicts to each city and territory. By tomorrow, the news should start spreading, beginning with the closer locations.”

“Thank you for your efforts, Resmus.”

With an indifferent remark, Arin returned her focus to her work.

Resmus looked as though he had something else to say, but after hesitating, he shook his head and stepped back.

About ten minutes passed.

“Princess Violet has arrived.”

Both women turned their gazes as they were informed of the new arrival from outside the door.

Arin rose from her seat in silence, preparing to welcome the distinguished guest.

The door opened, and Princess Violet entered with a beaming smile.

“You’ve been working hard, Arin.”

“Welcome, Sister.”

Arin greeted her with both hands neatly folded, a gesture of respect.

“I feel bad for visiting amidst your busyness. It seems like I’ve passed too much responsibility onto you, and as your sister, it weighs on my conscience.”

“There’s no need for concern. I’m only doing what I can.”

“This matter mustn’t feel very pleasant for you, Arin. It must be bringing back painful memories from the past.”


Arin’s pupils flickered momentarily as she looked down.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m saying this out of concern that someone might reappear, possibly troubling your heart once again due to this affair.”

Trying her best to conceal her emotions, Arin looked up with a bright smile.

“It’s all in the past. I need to focus on the present challenges at hand.”

“That’s admirable. Our father’s health is not what it was, and we must be even more resolute in our progression. Only then can we be deemed worthy members of the imperial family.”

“I’ll strive to do better.”

With those meaningful words of encouragement, Violet left the room.

Arin resumed her work as though nothing had happened.

To outsiders, it might have seemed no different than before, but Resmus, who had been watching over her for nearly a decade, saw something else.

In Arin’s indifferent gaze was a newly kindled flame of hatred and anger.

Whether it was directed at Princess Violet or the person she had referenced remained uncertain.

* * *

Two days had passed since my second encounter with that sly retired knight-commander.

People crowded around a bulletin board at the center of the street to read the latest imperial pronouncement.

Their expressions were filled with distrust and skepticism.

The death of Nephrodite Iris—saint of the Order of Light and messenger of the divine voice—was shocking enough,

but the full extent of her misdeeds, written in black and white, brought confusion and chaos.

“Can this really be true?”

“She wasn’t a saint but a madwoman! I’m ashamed to have praised her all this time.”

“What’s going to happen to the Order of Light now?”

The proclamation detailed how Nephrodite, the saint, had been embroiled in the recent kidnapping of the White Elves in Garam Kingdom and had used the knightly order for personal enrichment and tyrannical acts.

While it seemed exaggerated to the point of fiction, that wasn’t the important part.

What mattered was how people perceived it: shock, self-reproach, and a subsequent sense of unease.

For decades, the saint and the Order of Light had been pillars of prestige, and now their reputation plummeted into disgrace overnight.

I have to say, it’s comically absurd from the perspective of someone who knows a thing or two.

A suicide due to guilt and despondency? I admit that I dealt her a serious blow mentally.

However, had she been so weak-willed as to take her own life over it, she wouldn’t have shamelessly reigned as a saint for sixty years.

As I stood there, pondering vengeance and the absurdity of the supposed suicide,

the same lanky monks from the monastery I had seen before were busily proselytizing nearby.

The opposition towards the saint seemed to play a role in drawing a larger crowd to them today.

This event didn’t just expose the saint’s misdeeds; it undermined the dignity of the entire Ushif Empire,

challenging the legitimacy of not just the Order of Light but also of the imperial house itself.

What was the palace thinking, bragging about such a disgrace?

It couldn’t be Emperor Dione’s doing.

Two years ago, following a worsening heart condition, he had been unable to attend to state affairs properly.

So, could it be someone else in the imperial household?

Prince Luinel, the crown prince, had been stripped of power and had long since left the palace, and Empress Cassandra’s sons, Fabian and Nerobian, lived quietly with little influence.

That left two suspects: Princess Violet, who currently held significant power, or Arin, who was almost always at her side.

If you had told me this scenario seven years ago, I’d have dismissed it as too ridiculous for even a fictitious plot.

Here I am, having advised to step forward, now unsure of where to go from here.

Turning on my heels, I headed back to the tavern where I had met the old man three nights ago.

I took the same seat, waiting silently for someone to show up.

Sure enough, the familiar old man came up the stairs and plopped down across from me.

“Sorry for the delay.”

This was the third time such an encounter had repeated itself.

But today, the ambiance had changed; gone was the sly demeanor, replaced by the stern gaze of a seasoned knight.

“I won’t be around for long, so I’ll get straight to the point. I just reached a consensus with my men. I’m heading to the palace.”

“Weren’t you the retired knight who didn’t care about the affairs of the world?”

“Didn’t I say it? The older you get, the more sensitive to the truth you become. That tall woman was not the type to kill herself out of guilt. I’d stake my sixty years as a knight on it.”

It seemed our thoughts aligned.

The old man, too, believed the palace was lying.

Having spent years by the saint’s side, his opinion might be more accurate.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fan of hers. I never was. She tried several times to reform me with her meddling. I always managed to evade her tricks, but she certainly stood firm in her beliefs—that her existence contributed to the peace of the continent.”

I was reminded of Iris’s defiant declaration that no evil could bring her to despair.

“The palace is now vilifying her, and soon, the reputation of the Order of Light will plummet. Though I want peace in my old age, I can’t stand by idly.”

It was clear he intended to go see it all for himself.

“Unfortunately, our dealings must be postponed.”

“And who’s to say we will meet again?”

“We shall.”

His eyes sparkled with certainty.

“For reasons unknown to me, I have a feeling we’ll meet again at the palace.”

“And what makes you think I’ll be going there?”

“Call it an old man’s intuition, but it’s just a feeling! We’ll see what happens.”

With that, Jereon rose from his seat.

“Till the next time we meet, Sian Vert…”

He left with an air of self-importance, quite a spectacle indeed.

Now that my identity had been revealed, it wasn’t surprising that he knew my name.

I wasn’t particularly concerned that he might blab it around town.

However, unlike him, I had no destination in mind after this.

Perhaps I should return home and take a walk with Nana?

Suddenly, an unexpected guest, thumping down beside me, snapped me out of my thoughts.

Without a word, he offered a respectful bow and sat down.

It was a member of Mist, the same one who had previously delivered me documents about the faux disciples of Mist.

This time, there was a hint of unease around his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Master insists this message must be delivered to you posthaste.”

From within his clothing, he handed me a sealed letter.

I immediately recognized it as an order of operations.

At this point, a new subject for purification?

Perhaps someone from the palace displeased his taste.


I showed the empty letter to the agent, confusion mounting.

“What does this mean?”

There was nothing written on it.

No cipher to decode. Just a blank sheet.

I knew all too well the implication of this blank command.

“I’m just a messenger…”

The agent remained elusive, but I sensed the uneasiness behind his eyes.

Once again, I dove into the heart of the matter.

“Are the orders you received the same as mine?”

“… No.”

With a reluctant sigh, the man replied.

“Who’s the subject of the operation?”


“Don’t make this harder on yourself. Whether you talk to me or report to the master, you’re in the same danger.”

The agent sighed deeply with frustration, clearly upset at being chosen for this task.

Instead of answering, he handed me another letter—presumably the orders he had been given.

“And, there’s a message from Master for you as well.”

“What message?”

“Don’t get involved this time. Don’t do anything…”

As I read the letter, my eyes turned as hard as stone.

The meaning of the blank command was simple.

Don’t act on it.

Let the other members take action without interference—just be a bystander.


Are they joking?

It would be one thing if they kept me in the dark entirely, but I’m supposed to ignore this?

At the bottom of the orders, in red ink, was the name of our next target.

My previously calm mind tightened as a rush of negative emotions flooded over me.

]Arin Severus];

(To be continued)


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