The Credentials of a Couple (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 66

Calix pressed the bandage tightly wound around his arm, pulling it with his teeth and tugging firmly.

He had known Bake would pursue him the moment he stepped outside the manor, but the number of men was greater than expected.

Merely shaking off his pursuers had already cost him more time than necessary. Apparently, the Marquess Crayton cared more about uncovering his wife’s infidelity than the safety of his estate.

To be precise, it didn’t seem that catching his wife in infidelity was his sole objective.

Calix slowly exhaled.

The wound itself was negligible—merely a slight prick, like from a needle—but the sharp sensation penetrating his skin instinctively told him this wasn’t an ordinary attack. His suspicion quickly hardened into certainty: a faint numbness spread from the puncture site.

The enemy hadn’t fought in any conventional manner. Every piece of equipment adorning his body had served as a weapon—even the gloves he wore concealed poisoned spikes on the inside. Calix had realized this far too late.

On the battlefield, he wouldn’t have tolerated such anxiety, but now he was restless. Despite feigning composure, the slightest opening he exposed to his foe betrayed his unease.

But he made only that one mistake, immediately launching a counterattack. Aside from the enemy’s bizarre gear, the disparity in skill was clear-cut. Calix’s blade struck a fatal blow, and the assailant fled.

“He’s no ordinary thug. A seasoned mercenary.”

Most men, struck by a mortal wound, would have faltered—but not this one. Acting as if wounds were familiar territory, he willingly sacrificed his body and fled without hesitation.

From the start, the enemy never intended to win through skill. His goal was merely to inflict a poisoned strike.

Calix finished securing the knot and rose to his feet. He bound his arm with a handkerchief to halt further poison spread and chewed an antidote he always carried—but whether it would work remained uncertain.

The poison, deliberately prepared by a determined foe, surely wasn’t ordinary. He could only hope the immunity built from past poisonings would hold.

Calix crumpled the glove he’d snatched from his enemy and shoved it haphazardly into his pack, then swiftly mounted his horse.

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