Chapter 1460: I'm Going to Kill Him!
"I see," murmured Charles.
He adjusted the stag mask on his face and bowed slightly to his dance partner, Princess Louise Caroline of Hesse. "Beautiful Miss Peacock, would you mind if I stepped away to relax with my friends for a moment?"
The two had met at the birthday banquet for King William III, and it was the Princess of Hesse who had invited Charles to this masquerade ball. Wearing her peacock mask, Louise Caroline curtsied gracefully in response. "Of course, it is your prerogative. Oh, but when you are ready to leave, please be sure to send someone to notify me."
"Rest assured, I won't leave you behind," Charles promised with a nod. He casually snatched a glass of wine from a passing servant and turned to head toward the second floor.
The door to room 218 was unlocked. He turned the handle and entered, but found the room empty.
"Is this the place?" he questioned his attendant.
"This is the spot, milord," the latter replied, pointing toward the inner chamber. "Perhaps they are inside."
Charles walked into the inner room, only to find an empty card table. There was still no one there.
Just as he was wondering where they were, the faint sound of a woman's voice drifted from the adjacent room.
In room 219.
Baron Trudaine heard the faint sound of a door opening next door. He immediately slipped into character, whispering into Louise's ear:
"Now, the coal for the Alphonse-Boutin Ironworks will certainly require a compliance bond, but I have other channels to provide you with even more coal at prices far below the market rate."
"Really?" she purred. She hooked her arms around his neck, her voice sweet and cloying. "Oh, darling, you are the only light in my life. My heart, my body—everything I am belongs completely and unreservedly to you. You are the only person in this world I truly, madly adore!"
"Oh, I love you too," Trudaine declared. He paused for a beat, then raised his voice intentionally. "But I have heard you have a very young lover. It fills me with jealousy and resentment."
Louise didn't hesitate for a second. "That's simply not true..."
"People have seen you together," Trudaine countered. "Baron Mosten said so himself."
Louise's reaction was swift. She let out a flirtatious laugh. "Oh, you mean him? That was just play-acting. I only needed him to help me handle some troublesome matters, so I played along."
"Truly?" Baron Trudaine prompted, leading her on. "You really never loved him?"
"Of course not. You are the only one I love."
"You were just using him?"
"I swear, I don't love him at all. Now, let us not talk about such unpleasant things. Let me give you a proper reward."
Baron Trudaine felt her warm, soft form press against his leg. He lowered his voice. "I have another gift of love for you."
"What is it?" Louise asked, her voice somewhat muffled as her mouth was occupied.
"Steel smelting technology. The latest refined wrought iron, coke blast furnaces, and the like. In exchange, I only want an eight percent stake in Prussia's top four ironworks."
"Really?!" Louise looked up in pleasant surprise. "Oh, darling, I don't know how to thank you!"
While an eight percent stake in the four largest ironworks was significant, the value of such technology was immeasurable.
The technology the British offered in exchange for Prussia joining the Anti-French Coalition was, at best, twenty years out of date.
Yet Trudaine was offering the latest French technology—and currently, France was the undisputed global leader in the steel industry.
If Prussian ironworks acquired these techniques, they could produce steel comparable to France's within two or three years, allowing them to rapidly dominate the German market. At the same time, the quality of Prussian guns, cannons, and vehicles would leap forward by several levels.
The Governor of Esens lifted her up, a wicked smile spreading across his face. He whispered, "Tell me about this young lover of yours. I quite enjoy hearing stories like that at times like this."
"What... what is there to say?" she stammered.
"It seems you don't love me that much after all."
Louise grit her teeth. For the sake of Prussia's steel industry, she had to do everything in her power to please this man.
"He... he is French. Ah, his status is very distinguished, and... and he is very young..."
"Excellent. Give me details. Louder."
"We... ah... met when signing the agreement. He... mm... to please me... he gave me shares in an ironworks worth over a million francs..."
In room 218.
Charles pressed his ear tightly against the wall, wishing he could merge into the wood itself. His fists were clenched so hard they turned purple-black. In reality, the Security Bureau had specifically chosen this room. The wall was merely a thin layer of wooden boarding that provided almost zero sound insulation; it even vibrated when it caught low-frequency sounds.
When the young Prince heard the words 'I only needed him to help me handle some troublesome matters, so I played along,' he kept trying to comfort himself. 'She's talking about someone else. An old lover... yes, she certainly isn't talking about me...'
He had, of course, recognized Louise's voice, along with the voice of another man who was clearly being intimate with her.
But he was still clinging to the fantasy that his Louise had been deceived, and that she still loved him.
It wasn't until the woman spoke the words 'gave me shares in an ironworks worth over a million francs' that Charles finally broke.
There weren't many ironworks in all of Europe worth a million francs, and there certainly wasn't anyone else stupid enough to give away a million-franc stake—except for him, the fool.
Tears gushed from his eyes, and he sobbed under his breath, "Louise, that's my Louise... no one can take her away..."
As the sounds from the next room grew more intense, Charles suddenly stood tall and violently wiped away his tears. He drew a revolver from his waist—ever since he had been outmaneuvered by the Crown Princess during their last fencing match, he had begun carrying this dueling weapon with him at all times.
With trembling hands, he checked the cylinder, took a deep breath, and rushed toward the door. "Damn it... damn it all... I'm going to kill him!"
The attendant who had been guarding the door saw that the critical moment had arrived and frantically signaled to several men waiting nearby.
Three men wearing rhino, god of war, and leopard masks immediately swarmed forward, blocking Charles at the doorway.
"What... what are you doing?"
"We just stepped out for a smoke, why are you—"
"Put the gun down, it's too dangerous!"
As he spoke, Count Binder lunged forward and gripped Charles's gun hand by the wrist.
The other two also piled in to wrestle for the weapon.
Binder forcefully shoved Charles's hand upward. Then, pretending to lose his grip in the chaos, he pulled the revolver's trigger.
A thunderous crack echoed through the building.
The entire masquerade ball fell into a deathly silence.
A moment later, women began screaming and scrambling for cover, while the men reached for their own weapons.
The Queen's Guard, who had been stationed outside the hall, immediately kicked open the doors. With their percussion cap muskets leveled, they stormed inside in formation.
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