After learning about the meeting between Yvonne and Florence, Iona had to first choose a location among the gatherings she intended to attend that met several criteria.
Firstly, the entry should not be too strict, secondly, the atmosphere should be free, and thirdly, there should be active mingling and drinking between men and women.
In short, it needed to be a setting where nothing would seem out of the ordinary, no matter what happened.
‘It would be easier to cause and manage trouble in such a place.’
In this respect, this soiree was very appropriate.
Unlike the usual social gatherings where people mingled according to their status or wealth, this place was intended solely for entertainment.
It was a rare spot in the closed aristocratic society that welcomed new faces.
Due to the informal atmosphere, there were many opportunists who frequented the place hoping to catch the eye of the high and mighty.
When a handsome man she hadn’t seen before approached her and tried to distract her with smooth talk, Iona had a hunch about him. This man.
As expected, when Iona’s attention was elsewhere, the man slipped an unknown drug into her drink.
Knowing that showing any sign of suspicion might make him back off, Iona pretended to drink the offered drink and then rushed to the restroom to throw up everything.
As she staggered out pretending to be drunk, sure enough, someone came to meet her and led her to a secluded rest area.
What happened next was just as Brantley had seen.
Iona dragged out all the men hiding in the corners and rendered them unable to fight.
Not wanting to clean up corpses in someone else’s building, she mercifully ended it by breaking their limbs – something they should be thankful for.
“Are you going to keep standing there like an idiot?”
Iona called Brantley over with a flick of her hand, which held a dagger.
Brantley belatedly remembered the appropriate reaction he should have shown and displayed a look of shock.
It was to give the impression he was uninvolved in the situation.
“What in the world is all this?”
“Not a bad attempt to save face. But for your trick to work, shouldn’t you first ponder over how I’m standing here unharmed, even after taking the drug you mixed in?”
Brantley clenched his eyes shut upon hearing Iona’s condescending reply. He could intuitively sense the predicament he was now in.
He approached Iona as if walking into the mouth of a lion, and quickly knelt down starting from his knees.
“I’m sorry, Dame Iona. I was so smitten with you at first sight that I almost did something despicable...”
Of course, he couldn’t blurt out the name of his client right there.
That was a matter of professional ethics.
No matter how much money was involved, if he sold out information too easily in a crisis, no one would trust him.
“So you hastily gathered these men from within the banquet hall?”
“Well, the truth is... we’ve met before. I’ve admired you from a distance and harbored feelings for you in secret.”
Iona let out a smirk as if amused.
Then, she turned her head towards the man sprawled like a chair beneath her and started to slap his cheek fiercely.
The man, regaining consciousness, immediately covered his face.
Iona withdrew her hand after confirming the man had regained his senses.
Pointing nonchalantly at Brantley with the tip of her thumb, she asked indifferently.
“What exactly did this man say when he hired you?”
The man, having just come to his senses, couldn’t comprehend her words at once.
As soon as he looked bewildered, Iona immediately swung her hand again.
She was an unrecognized authority in the field of psychology.
Her talent particularly lay in enhancing someone’s memory in a short period.
The man, now under the touch of an expert, showed remarkable recovery.
“There’s a woman I want to meddle with! If she resists, just step in and drain her strength... That’s what he said!”
“And...? Oh, yes! He promised that if things went well, there’d be extra money, and he’d give me a share of that too!”
The man, shouting desperately, suddenly fell silent. He had passed out again, thanks to the last punch thrown by Iona.
With his face smeared in blood and eyes rolled back, the man looked almost like he belonged in a coffin.
Iona dusted off her hands and stood up.
Brantley, trying to back away from her, ended up falling over in a comically awkward manner.
Looking down at Brantley’s pale face, Iona remarked.
“So there was money to be received if the job went well...”
“How nice, you even have someone financially backing your love ventures.”
Iona kindly lowered herself to meet Brantley’s eye level.
She pointed the tip of her dagger at his throat and said,
“I’d like to know the identity of this generous sponsor.”
Brantley swallowed hard, his expression almost on the verge of tears.
The blood-red eyes staring at him felt like those of a predator.
Brantley, not knowing what to do, whimpered,
“That, that is, hic.”
“Think carefully about whose side to take. In the end, you haven’t done anything to me today, which means you can still back out at this stage. Above all else...”
“I’m the one holding the knife now.”
Feeling the blade pressing near his Adam’s apple, Brantley’s jaw quivered violently.
He managed to respond in a strained voice,
“I, I don’t really know. They, they appeared covered up... Naturally, they didn’t reveal their name either. I only remember... it was a surprisingly youthful voice... probably a woman.”
‘A youthful voice, huh.’
Florence tended to consciously strive for a low and elegant tone in her voice.
It seemed likely that it was Yvonne who had actually come to meet Brantley.
“How much did they offer to pay you?”
“Can you please... put away the knife...? I beg you, please. I’ll tell you everything...”
Overwhelmed by the pressure, Brantley begged with tears in his eyes, resembling scared droplets.
Not complying with his wish seemed to promise a considerable waste of time just to stop his crying.
As Iona obligingly sheathed her dagger, Brantley sighed in relief.
Brantley, having lost any will to resist, soon began to detail the events of the day he met with Yvonne.
Iona listened to his account, organizing her thoughts internally.
‘She spent more money than I expected.’
The number of people involved had exceeded her expectations, and the sum involved confirmed it.
The amount promised was too large for Yvonne’s meager finances to handle.
‘So, Florence covers the expenses, and Yvonne executes the plan. Is that it?’
She had a rough idea of how their relationship complemented each other. After all, Yvonne was in such a situation that she needed her father’s permission even to buy a dress.
If Florence had stepped back from public affairs in exchange for financial support, there was a good chance she wouldn’t get caught even if an investigation ensued.
However, it wasn’t right to just let Florence escape blatantly from the situation.
As Iona remained silent, deep in thought, Brantley seemed to find the opportunity to reflect on the situation.
Glancing at the unconscious men sprawled around, he asked in a defeated voice.
“Did you know from the start that I was approaching you?”
Iona simply rolled her eyes towards Brantley.
Her look seemed to say, ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ and he quickly caught on, laughing ruefully.
“So the continuous drinking was an act, too? Or maybe the bottle itself was fake from the start. I was completely fooled...”
“No, it was real.” Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⁂𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⁂𝕟𝕖𝕥
Iona responded nonchalantly to Brantley’s query.
She had answered immediately, but upon reflection, it seemed like a rather foolish question.
Was there really such a thing as fake alcohol that tasted and smelled exactly like the real thing?
Even if there were, Iona would choose the one with alcohol.
‘After all, I don’t get easily drunk, so there’s no need to risk raising suspicion unnecessarily.’
Being a good drinker was quite an advantage in life.
In social situations, there were times when one was forced to drink.
Fortunately, Iona always came out ahead in alcohol-related situations, except for dealing with the bill.
Even when she was just tipsy enough, people assumed she was completely drunk and revealed their hidden intentions more easily.
‘This time was no different.’
She seemed to have only shared a few drinks with him, but the other person already had a flush on his face, as if slightly intoxicated.
His cheeks were a healthy red, a stark contrast to the grim faces of the sprawled bodyguards.
Whether to make his neat face match his colleagues or give him a brief period of reprieve would be decided after a simple question and answer.
“You mentioned during our conversation that you were an actor. Was that a lie? Were you trying to conceal your identity?”
Of course, he was making a dirty side income , and that side income was practically sustaining him...
Brantley continued to ramble, clearly disheartened. He looked more like a conman than an actor, but it was a relief it wasn’t a complete lie.
Iona, staring intently at him, suddenly asked.
“So, do you actually do any acting?”
--- End Of The Chapter ----
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