The Male Leads Are Trapped in My House-Chapter 118

A large man collapsed like a paper doll.

After tightly tying Philip to a chair, I dragged Elliot, groaning from the pain of his gunshot wound, and secured him to a chair on the opposite side in the same manner.

Once I dealt with the two of them, I locked the door. To ensure it wouldn’t open easily, I moved a large dresser to block it thoroughly.

Next, I dragged the unconscious man who had collapsed in front of the railing and tied him to the bed.

Phew, I’m pretty thorough, aren’t I?

The reason everything was wrapped up so neatly was that these fools had underestimated me, treating me as nothing more than a rumor—a young heiress.

Well, I had anticipated that when I let myself get captured, but the way they fell so easily was a bit disappointing.

"I should’ve stayed tied up and played the hostage a little longer."

Unlike the two unconscious men, Elliot, who still had his wits about him, lifted his head.

“Sinclair, you’re not getting out of here. Every guard here is professionally trained and knows how to handle firearms. We’re well-armed, too. You’re outnumbered; you can’t possibly win.”

“Oh, really? Lots of weapons, you say? That’s great.”

I can take them back to Happy House.

This confidence stemmed entirely from my trust in Ethan. Ethan always told me not to overestimate my own strength, but he didn’t realize that even my so-called overconfidence was grounded in my trust in him as my partner.

I rummaged through a nearby desk and pulled out the blueprints for the Sinclair Hotel. This really was Elliot’s room.

“This guy’s seriously twisted. Why would you bring captives into your own room?”

With mixed feelings, I glanced at Elliot briefly before spreading the blueprints across the desk.

I need to make sure these people can’t even think about invading Brunel. And I can’t leave any loose ends either.

Carefully studying the internal layout of the Sinclair Hotel, I pinpointed escape routes and assessed our current location.

The fifth floor—the very top of the building. There were only six rooms on this floor.

I’d suspected it earlier, but now it was clear: no one had shown up despite all this commotion. Elliot had been using this entire floor by himself.

“He’s really playing king, huh?”

Unless they’re commanded otherwise, no one dares to violate the king’s domain, is that it?

Confirming that the laundry room I’d been in was on the first floor, I tried to figure out where Ethan might be now. Then I turned to Elliot and asked:

“The people you sent to Brunel haven’t returned, have they? What’s your plan? Send more?”

“That’s none of your business.”

As expected, Elliot didn’t answer willingly.

I perched on the edge of his desk and flipped through his notebook. Most of it was filled with random scribbles, but I caught a mention of Bardon.

[Bardon contacts.

Jeremy’s Herb Shop.]

I frowned. I’d considered using information about Bardon as bait to negotiate with Elliot, but it seemed he’d already gathered related intel.

“So this timeline’s faster than the original.”

The deviation in the detailed plot must be to blame.

“Are you trying to get your hands on Bardon?” I asked, waving his notebook.

Elliot spat blood onto the floor. Raising his head, he gave me a bloody grin that resembled something out of a Joker comic.

To others, he might look intimidating, but to me, he was far from threatening. I chuckled.

“Oh, I see. You’ve been asking weird questions to misdirect me. Your real goal is Bardon.”

Elliot’s deduction was way off. It was the opposite, actually.

“Princess Sinclair, are you perhaps a spy for Kellian? If so, that would make sense. Were you trained?”

Kellian? Who’s that? I frowned and stared at Elliot, bloodied as he was. After a moment of thought, I replied:

“...What if I am?”

Elliot stared at me with deranged eyes before contorting his face and bursting into mocking laughter.

“Looking for drugs? How far do you think you’ll get? You can’t even return to Westmore, can you?”

“Westmore?”

I was taken aback by the unfamiliar name but concealed my confusion, pretending to focus on the blueprints as I replied:

“That’s none of your business.”

“None of my business? Didn’t I tell you? The Bardon in Kintner is mine. I can’t give it to you.”

“Bardon, Westmore, and Kellian.”

I silently mused over the connections. Was the blocked road to Westmore related to this?

“So, have you secured the Bardon yet?”

“They should be back today. Dream on, princess. You won’t even get a glimpse of it. Your grave is here.”

Elliot’s sharp tongue hadn’t dulled. He always enjoyed mocking me, calling me ‘Princess Sinclair.’ Insecure people like him were hopeless.

Now that the pain had subsided slightly, he even wore a relaxed smile as he looked at me, oozing confidence.

His jet-black hair brushed his neck, and his blood-red eyes glistened. With his disheveled yet handsome face smeared with blood, he exuded a menacing allure.

I took out my pocket watch to check the time. It had been four or five hours since I left Happy House. By now, everyone must be worried.

“This room is on the fifth floor of the hotel. As you can see, the ladder on the balcony is unusable because of the monsters. Do you think you can escape?”

I slipped the watch back into my pocket and looked at Elliot.

“Worried about me not being able to escape?”

“Of course, I’m worried. If those monsters tear up your pretty face, I’d be heartbroken.”

Psychos are something else. How could anyone come up with a response like that? I let out an incredulous laugh and replied:

“Wow, a psycho with compassion.”

“Not exactly the words I’d want to hear from a vain little lady.”

“If you want to live, you’d better watch your mouth.”

“I’ve never been one to hold my tongue.”

When I picked up the axe resting on the desk, Elliot flinched, pressing himself against the back of the chair.

I laughed at his reaction and warned him, “Fine, don’t hold your tongue, but answer my questions. I need to walk away with something after coming all this way.”

“I’m not answering,” he replied stubbornly.

“You will. If you don’t, even I can’t guarantee what I’ll do to you.”

In hindsight, the line sounded like something a villain would say.

Conveniently, Philip and Valen, who had just regained consciousness, overheard the exchange and began trembling in fear. I pretended not to notice.

Ignoring them, I started to sharpen the axe. By now, Ethan should be on his way. Let’s hold on just a little longer!

*****

Nox was sitting on the sofa in Cherry’s room, engrossed in a book. Outside the window, the sun was setting.

He pulled a pocket watch from his coat. It had already been several hours—four or five—since Cherry and Ethan left to investigate the underground passage.

“Why isn’t Miss Cherry back yet?” he muttered, tapping his fingers anxiously on the watch.

Amy and Vanilla, crouched near the fireplace, lifted their heads. Amy nodded emphatically at Nox’s concern.

“Yeah, what’s taking her? Could there have been trouble?”

If that were the case, it meant Cherry might be in danger. Vanilla raised the shotgun she was cleaning.

“It’s possible she needs help. We should go check.”

At that moment, Harrison entered the room, his face pale and tired. Adjusting his glasses, he stopped Vanilla.

“If that’s the case... it would make more sense for Amy, who’s skilled at reconnaissance, to go, supported by a sniper.”

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

He turned to Vanilla and added, “Miss Ruskin, could you switch with Jose and take over guard duty at Happy House?”

Without protest, Vanilla nodded and stood up. “I’ll fetch Jose, then.”

She left the room without hesitation, showing complete trust in Harrison’s judgment.

Nox silently observed Harrison, who had earned the unwavering trust of the Happy House residents. There was something about him that reminded Nox of Cherry.

The way they worked tirelessly without regard for their own well-being.

Like Cherry, Harrison seemed accustomed to overworking himself. Perhaps he had been this way even back when he worked for the Sinclair family.

“I’ve been briefed by Miss Ruskin. Should I head out now?”

Jose entered the room, answering the call. Harrison nodded. “Arm yourself.”

Jose nodded back and holstered a sniper rifle and a semi-automatic rifle at his waist. Amy got up as well, tightening her shoelaces.

“If there’s even a hint of danger, return immediately and report. We’ll need to reassess the search direction,” Harrison instructed.

Both Amy and Jose nodded in unison.

“Understood.”

“Yes, second-in-command!”

Everyone turned to Amy.

“Second-in-command?”

“The captain is our Sugar Star, and the second-in-command is obviously the lawyer guy, isn’t it?”

Harrison sighed, his expression suggesting he couldn’t be bothered to argue. Nox grinned and said nonchalantly, “I’m the second-in-command.”

“Yeah, right,” Amy said, shaking her head.

“Hey, that reaction’s a bit hurtful.”

“Doctors can’t be commanders. They’re too busy! Anyway, I’m off!”

Ignoring Nox’s protest, Amy waved her hand and disappeared into the fireplace. Jose sighed, watching her go like a sibling dealing with a reckless younger sister.

For some reason, Harrison found himself recalling the past, when he had looked at Cherry the same way, back when she was still a carefree troublemaker.

“See you soon.”

Jose also bid them farewell and followed Amy into the fireplace.