Departure

"Victor... why are you here? Where is James?"

Lady Elizabeth asked, her voice trembling. She couldn't tell if it was because the weather was turning cold and the chill of the rainy night was blowing in through the open balcony, or if she was simply terrified.

Victor did not speak. He stood there in the pitch-black night, his figure illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning. Lady Elizabeth grew even more frightened. She clutched her bedsheets in a panic and opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to scream, yet fearing that she might provoke Victor.

"What is the relationship... between James and me?" Finally, Victor's low voice resonated, and the sound of the rain outside seemed to soften.

"W-what are you saying, Victor? What are you trying to do!"

Victor took two steps forward, closing the distance until he was nearly at the edge of the bed.

BOOM! Another muffled roll of thunder rumbled within the clouds, and Victor's voice became even more menacing: "What is the relationship between James and me?"

CRACK!

A bolt of lightning struck, illuminating Victor's face. Those rugged, deep-set features looked exactly like—

"Thomas!"

Lady Elizabeth shrieked. She grabbed at her hair hysterically, roaring the name of Thomas Logan.

Victor roared the question once more: "What is the relationship between James and me!"

"James... James, you cannot hurt him! Thomas, you can't—he is your son."

Elizabeth had completely lost her mind. She tore at her hair and bedsheets, howling with vacant eyes. Her words became increasingly blurred, eventually devolving into nothing but meaningless screams and shrieks.

Victor stood frozen for a moment, as if the torrential rainy night and the madwoman had nothing to do with him, as if they existed in different worlds.

He had long harbored suspicions in his heart, but he needed a definitive answer.

Victor leaped into the rainy night and vanished from sight.

"Have you searched everywhere?" James asked Jack. Victor had gone missing, and no one had seen where he went. Jack Pitt, the captain of the family riders, had taken all available men to search the surrounding towns and forests for many days.

"We've searched every possible place within thirty miles, and we haven't found any reports of strange deaths or injuries among the local residents," Jack said, sounding somewhat exhausted.

James nodded, thanked him for his hard work, and urged Jack to go get some rest. The heavy rain from the night before meant that even with his unique sense of smell, he hadn't gained any leads. If Victor wasn't in the vicinity of Edmonton, then he must have gone to the United States.

His primary concern had been that Victor might have been influenced by Adam, which was why he had ordered them to keep an eye on the local populace. The fact that there were no reports of beast-like massacres put James's mind at ease.

He mused that perhaps Victor had left without a word because he was eager to return to the battlefield. He felt a headache coming on as he recalled that his mother, Elizabeth, had suffered another bout of her old illness over the past few days; although she had largely recovered after several days of rest, she had become increasingly haggard.

"O'Hara, just how many trunks do you have?" James asked helplessly as he watched O'Hara chattering away, directing the servants to pile suitcases into the carriage.

"Just these!" O'Hara's eyes crinkled into smiles, her long lashes fluttering. Even the bright red of her brows couldn't hide her joy. She grabbed her cream-colored pearl handbag, lifted her skirt, and leaned forward to step into the carriage.

James had always opposed the restrictive corsets and voluminous skirts of the current era; they were cumbersome, complex, and physically harmful. For that reason, O'Hara had been wearing comfortable and practical long skirts or trousers for many years.

"Hehehe, this is my first time traveling so far, and I'll be meeting the President and his wife—I have to be prepared!"

"The war isn't over yet. We'll be going to America often in the future, and we might even move there."

James adjusted his cufflinks and habitually reached for his cigar case, but changed his mind and put it back; O'Hara didn't like the smell of cigars or cigarettes.

O'Hara asked happily about moving to the United States. Canada was too vast and sparsely populated; although the natural scenery around the estate was excellent, she had grown up there and the novelty had long since worn off. She longed for the bustling cities and the crowds.

This trip to Washington was necessary for several reasons: he needed to meet with the President to discuss the various affairs of the war and the complex issues of post-war benefit distribution. Furthermore, the search for the vampire progenitor Adam could not be relaxed. Although he was currently lying low in a state of extreme weakness, leaving such a terrifying immortal creature unchecked would eventually lead to endless trouble.

But most importantly, he had to find Victor.

In September 1863, the Union Army captured Chattanooga. Combined with the capture of Port Hudson in July, which split the Confederate Army into eastern and western sections, the victory of the Union was, from a strategic and tactical standpoint, beyond doubt.

"Mr. Howlett, Madam, please come this way."

A White House attendant respectfully led James and O'Hara into the banquet hall. This was a small victory celebration strongly proposed by the major northern capital magnates and government officials.

Although President Lincoln had repeatedly stated that the war was not yet completely over and that it was too early for a banquet, he eventually gave in under the enthusiasm and pressure from all sides.

O'Hara was very satisfied with the young attendant's address. She gave him a brilliant smile, and while linking her arm with James's, she stepped into the hall with a hint of nervousness and stiffness on her face.

"James! James!"

When President Lincoln saw James, he waved and called out with exceptional warmth. He apologized to the people around him and hurried over, taking his wife Mary's hand as he approached.

"You finally made it!"

The President's eyes held a hint of inquiry as he looked at James, as if confirming that he was doing well.

James nodded slightly, smiling, and introduced O'Hara with a relaxed tone.

Lady Mary thoughtfully took O'Hara's hand and said gently:

"No wonder Abe and I could never get Mr. Howlett interested in any of the fine young ladies we introduced to him—it turns out he had already met such a beautiful girl."

President Lincoln also playfully patted James on the chest, happily leading them to the center of the banquet to introduce the pair to the tycoons of northern industry and manufacturing, as well as government officials and members of Congress.

The name of the Howlett Family had not been unfamiliar to the upper echelons of American power in recent years. Even those with extensive connections and numerous sources of information within the military held a sense of extraordinary awe for this emerging industrial tycoon, who appeared perhaps a bit too young for his status.