Conquering His Cold Heart

396 The Identity

“That man?” the coachman asked while breathing raggedly. He was so afraid that he would be beaten to a pulp by the man hovering over him that his mind had stopped functioning properly and he couldn’t think to who Regulus was referring.

Regulus tightened his clutch on that coachman’s collar and lifted him slightly. He looked that man dead in the eyes and repeated, “The man whom you dropped near the Atkinson Mansion.”

“Oh! Er…” the coachman gulped dryly and seemed to be in a dilemma.

He was recalling back to the time when the regal-looking man had given him a pouch full of gold coins and had asked him not to reveal his travel to anyone. He somewhat felt indebted to keep the secret safe with him because he had accepted a large sum of money from that man.

‘Would he be in trouble if I revealed who he was?’ He looked at Regulus who was still giving him a death glare and wondered, ‘Why is this man desperate to know who I had given a ride to anyway?’

While the coachman was thinking about a lot of things, Regulus was running out of patience. So, he suddenly slammed the coachman’s head on the rocky ground and grabbed him by his neck.

When the coachman began coughing and gasping for air, Regulus looked down at that man with his glowing yellow eyes and asked in a low growl, “Do you remember the name yet? Or should I do something more to jog your memory?”

The coachman was now terrified to his core because he could clearly see those yellow eyes that were staring right into his soul. And not just that, he was being strangled by that dangerous man in the middle of nowhere. No one would come to his rescue. Hell, no one would even find him for days if he was killed there.

He grabbed and pulled Regulus’ palm with all his might so that he would be able to breathe a little. And when he successfully loosened the grip on his neck to some extent, he drew in a sharp breath and spoke in a broken whisper, “The King. He was the King.”

.....

Upon hearing that, Regulus felt something cold spreading from his chest to his whole body. He took a deep breath and stopped strangling that poor man.

He also straightened his back and quickly took a few steps away from the man lying beneath him. He pushed his hair away from his face using both of his hands and then turned his back on the coachman.

“The King...” he mumbled softly.

He fisted on his hips and then finally, he began laughing out loud as if he had just heard something very pleasing.

Regulus was indeed pleased by the answer of the coachman because until now, he was still doubtful if the King had any hand in the assassination that took place in the dungeon of the Atkinson Mansion. But now, he had a witness to support his case. He had finally cracked the case.

However, to still be fully sure, Regulus controlled his celebratory laugh and then turned around to face that coachman again.

The coachman was sitting upright while massaging his neck and coughing every now and then.

Regulus stood in front of him again and then asked, “Do you recall the exact day that the King traveled in your carriage? And do you remember the time? At least a rough estimate of time?”

The coachman didn’t want Regulus to come at him again and strangle him to death. So, he quickly raised his palm in stop motion and then shouted, “Please let me think properly. Don’t hurt me. I will speak.”

Regulus didn’t move an inch. He simply gave a nod and then waited for the man to speak on his own.

The coachman closed his eyes and covered his face with his palms. He was racking his brain in order to remember what was asked of him. But he was under so much duress that he couldn’t recall the exact date at all.

However, something suddenly struck his mind. He suddenly opened his eyes and looked at Regulus. And he mumbled, “I don’t remember the exact date but I remember that it was around dusk. And… I don’t know if it is of any relevance to you or not but… that day while I was heading towards the town, the…”

He looked Regulus in the eyes and then continued after heaving a deep breath, “I don’t know if they were people like you or if they were actual wolves. But I heard the wolves howling so loudly that it almost felt like…”

“Felt like they were mourning someone’s death.” Regulus looked somewhat sad, which was very unlike him.

“Yes!” the coachman exclaimed. He couldn’t have described it better.

Regulus clenched his jaw and asked the coachman one last time, “Are you sure that it was the King? Because if you are lying right now, you are going to be responsible for a lot of bad things that are going to happen in the future.”

The coachman didn’t know what Regulus meant by that but he nodded his head and agreed. “Yes, Sir. It was the King himself. He gave me a pouch of gold coins and said that he had escaped from the castle to get some fresh air.”

“Fresh air, huh!” Regulus scoffed and then whispered under his breath, “That sounds like him. He does need a lot of fresh air, doesn’t he?”

He glanced at the coachman again and then said, “Don’t leave the town. I might need you as a witness someday. And when that time comes, I will come and find you.”

He narrowed his eyes at the dumbfounded coachman and then asked him in a threatening tone, “Do you understand me? If you dare to leave this town then I will hunt you down no matter where you go.”

“Y-Yes, Sir.” The coachman looked down in fear.

Regulus put his hand inside his pocket and then tossed a few golden coins at the coachman. “I will go on my own from here. And don’t you dare forget what I just said to you.”

“O-Of course, Sir. I won’t forget.” The coachman kept on hanging his head low and didn’t move at all as if he was a statue. He was frozen after hearing the threat from Regulus. He knew in his bones that this man was capable of doing what he just said.

“All right then.” Regulus turned to face in the direction of the mansion and in no time he disappeared from there while leaving a small dust storm behind.

The coachman coughed and waved his hand in front of his face. When the dust settled a little, he looked at the gold coins that were scattered around his feet.

His heart began to drum again. And it began beating so fast that his chest hurt, and he was even having difficulty breathing properly. He grabbed his chest and began panting and sweating like a pig. It looked like he was going to get a heart attack and die right there.

It took a great deal of effort for him to collect his composure.

When he finally came out of his daze, he wiped the sweat from his face and mumbled to himself, “I better get out of this town as soon as possible. No… I better leave Xanmar at once. I can tell that something really bad will happen to me and my family if I don’t leave. I don’t want to come in between that man and the King. I will be dead. And so will my family.”