The Majestic Heir

Chapter 6 - First Appointment

"BLARE-BLARE!"

The deafening sound of a trumpet filled the room. When Marc opened his eyes and glanced at the table, it turned out to be his phone ringing.

“Master Tilcott, I know you have a packed schedule, but I’ve booked an appointment, and I sincerely hope you’ll keep it.”

A woman’s voice came through the phone as soon as Marc hit the answer button. Her words weren’t rude, but her tone was sharp, impatient, and commanding.

“Ma’am, you don’t need to worry. I’ll be there in two days as scheduled.”

“Hey, who are you?” Marc was about to end the call when her voice suddenly grew louder. “Oh, are you Master Tilcott’s assistant?”

“Tell your master not to reschedule as she pleases! I don’t care—I expect her here today!”

Since there was no calendar in his new apartment, Marc quickly opened the calendar app on his phone. What? Have I been asleep for three days?

The date clearly showed it was the 15th!

“Ma’am, I’ll be there shortly,” he replied.

After ending the call, Marc stretched his body and yawned a few times. Through the window with its curtains wide open, he noticed the bright weather outside.

“Such a beautiful morning,” he muttered.

But when he glanced at the wall clock, his expression shifted to shock. It was 4 PM!

Marc quickly dashed out of his apartment. As he locked the door, he noticed scorch marks on the doorknob.

“Did that girl try to sneak in while I was asleep?” he chuckled, imagining how the young woman must have hurt her hands because of attempting to bother him.

A few nights earlier, Marc had used his inner energy to seal the door. Ordinary humans—or even ghosts—would only end up burning their hands if they tried to break in.

As Marc descended the apartment stairs one floor at a time, he didn’t encounter a single soul, just like when he had first moved in. Even when he stepped outside, the cold air and eerie silence made the place feel like a ghost town.

“Once I finish this task, I’ll find out what’s really going on in this village,” he resolved.

Marc opened his phone to check the location of the patient he was supposed to visit. Thunderhill District? That doesn’t seem far from here.

But when he activated the GPS to get a more detailed route, his brows furrowed. The official residence of Mayor Cammont?

Ten years away from this city, and so much had changed—including the mayor’s official residence, which had been relocated. What puzzled Marc was why they had chosen Thunderhill, a district considered underdeveloped compared to other areas in Cammont.

For now, though, he decided not to dwell on it and continued his journey.

An hour later, Marc arrived in a rundown neighborhood. The roads were unpaved, and livestock roamed freely. In some areas, he had to tread carefully to avoid stepping on animal droppings.

Such was the state of Thunderhill.

It wasn’t until ten minutes later, at the edge of the village, that he spotted a residential complex in the distance. It was the housing area for Cammont’s high-ranking officials.

In stark contrast to the slum he had just passed through, this complex had well-paved roads and a clean, orderly environment. Each house was surrounded by a one-and-a-half-meter-high wall, and behind the walls stood grand, imposing homes.

Following the GPS directions, Marc’s destination was the house at the far end—the one with the largest yard.

“Mr. Belmont…?” A man greeted Marc with a hesitant expression, scrutinizing him from head to toe.

The man, dressed in a neatly tailored black suit, appeared to be in his forties. He was the butler of the large house.

“Yes, that’s me,” Marc said with a nod.

“Welcome, Mr. Belmont. I’m Jonas Gardner. Please, follow me.”

Leading the way, Jonas still couldn’t quite believe that the assistant to a renowned master healer like Helma Tilcott had arrived on foot.

As they passed through the gate, a sprawling yard came into view. Most of it was tiled, except for areas designated for grass and flowers.

The presence of burly, well-dressed men stationed at various corners of the property also caught Marc’s attention.

“Mr. Belmont, will Master Tilcott be coming?” Newell Brown, the homeowner, appeared both hopeful and anxious.

“Master Tilcott will not be coming. She has entrusted me to assist you,” Marc replied.

“Ah, I see.” Disappointment was evident on the mayor’s face.

“Mr. Brown, may I see the patient now?” Marc didn’t want to waste time. If the situation was serious, the sooner it was addressed, the better.

“Mr. Belmont…” Newell hesitated for a moment before speaking. “This isn’t actually about an illness. It’s about something strange that’s been happening in this house.”

After some thought, the mayor elaborated.

“For the past six months, we’ve been experiencing strange occurrences. Some of our valuables—and those of people around this complex—have mysteriously disappeared. We’ve checked the CCTV footage and hired professionals, but we’ve found nothing. It’s as if the items vanished into thin air.”

Eventually, Newell had brought the matter to the provincial police chief, who suggested seeking help from Helma Tilcott.

“I apologize for not explaining this earlier, but I didn’t know who else to turn to,” Newell confessed.

Marc nodded slowly. From that brief explanation, he already had a rough idea of what might be happening.

“May I inspect the house?”

“By all means,” Newell agreed.

Marc didn’t sense any malevolent energy inside the house, so he proceeded to inspect the exterior. After combing through the front yard, he checked the backyard and the expansive grounds outside the fence. Still, he found nothing unusual.

Could the perpetrator be a cultivator? Even if they were moving at extraordinary speed, Marc’s sharp eyesight should have been able to detect shadows or faint movements in the CCTV footage.

Marc was about to leave the vacant lot when his gaze fell upon the large forest in the distance. That was when a thought struck him.

“No way… could the culprit be…?”