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Chapter : 5
“Lauren, try to think rationally. There’s no need to be so prickly.”
“I am being rational. Don’t talk like that.”
“This is far more serious than you think.”
Cedric’s expression suddenly turned grave, but Lauren had no intention of backing down.
Honestly, she was indignant. What difference was there between pushing someone down the stairs, breaking their leg, and then declaring you’ll keep them under watch until it heals?
“You’ve been going on about how serious it is, but you haven’t said a single word about how or why it’s dangerous.”
“You know yourself this isn’t normal. Must I really spell it out?”
“So I’m just supposed to nod along in ignorance?”
Just then, the appetizer arrived—a slice of orange-hued salmon set on a long, vine-patterned plate, ringed with roasted eggplant.
Lauren picked up her small fork. The food wasn’t at fault.
The conversation kept spinning in circles. Cedric seemed to think she was some clueless child. Every time she pressed him, he dodged, and it was painfully clear he wasn’t here to listen to her at all.
“We don’t need to stay in the same space. Wouldn’t it be fine if I just assigned you protection?”
“So you’re doing this because you’re worried you’ll get hurt if I do?”
Lauren emphasized the word “you,” even pointing her fork at Cedric. He stayed silent for a long moment.
“Yes. I think we need to be cautious.”
“Then good news—there’s no need to worry. The worst injury I’m likely to get is pricking my finger with a needle.”
Lauren leaned back in her chair. In truth, she was willing to accept something like a bodyguard.
“In that case, Cedric, could you at least explain why you were disguised in that ‘gambling den,’ and what that ‘key’ was?”
“It’s personal. You gain nothing by knowing.”
Cedric shook his head—drawing a clear line.
Lauren lifted the napkin from her lap and dabbed her lips. Ordering her around while refusing to share a shred of information—she clenched her fist tight.
“People must tell you you’re selfish all the time.”
“I hear I’m competent more often.”
His shameless reply made Lauren give a small shake of her head.
Competent, my foot. Pretty sure they meant insufferable.
She pushed herself up from the table.
“Well, I’m not going to follow your instructions like a puppet when I don’t know a thing. Oh—!”
Lauren screamed as she stood. A sudden bolt of pain shot through her right wrist.
Blood began blooming through the sleeve of her blue linen dress.
“Cedric!”
He was holding a dinner knife. A table knife was still a blade, and apparently sharp enough to cut skin.
Blood dripped from the knife Cedric gripped. He had sliced his own wrist, and now he looked at Lauren and gently set the knife down.
“Now do you get the picture?”
“You’re insane.”
Lauren clutched her bleeding wrist. She wanted nothing more than to slap that smug face, but she knew the pain would just come back to her.
“I’ll never cooperate with you.”
She spat the words. Cedric calmly wrapped his wrist with a napkin to stop the bleeding.
“You’ll see me again.”
“Have some tea.”
Polite manners on the surface—yet beneath it, a man who wouldn’t hesitate to use people as tools.
Lauren’s opinion of Cedric sank—not to the floor, but to the basement—and she left the restaurant without looking back.
Lauren let out a long sigh. Her father’s whereabouts grew more unclear by the day. The handwriting in the letters was undeniably his, but there were too many things that felt wrong.
That gambling den felt off. That man with the scar…
Father actually knew people like that? People that dangerous?
She had even tried reporting it to the police, but no one took her seriously. They just told her he’d be back soon and to wait at home.
Maybe I really am worrying over nothing…
Lauren checked the newspaper spread across her desk—several different dailies she’d bought that morning.
In the classifieds, red pencil circles were scattered here and there.
Still… I should do what I can.
Every marked listing was for a private detective agency. Wandering around alone looking for her father suddenly felt foolish, so this was her second-best plan.
She carefully read the details.
“We find lost cats!”
Not that one.
“Is your wife suspicious? We specialize in adultery cases—”
Definitely not.
Her eyes stopped suddenly.
“Noah Detective Agency—We solve anything. Former mercenary?”
Hmm. This one looked promising.
She underlined it twice more. Former mercenary—she liked the sound of that.
Someone who could walk away from ridiculous trouble unharmed. Like running into a brute in a gambling den, for instance.
Cedric’s irritating face flashed through her mind and she frowned without noticing.
Cedric. She later learned the last name “Collins.” She’d seen “Earl Collins” mentioned in the papers, never realizing it was him—her ignorance of society gossip catching up to her.
The papers never stopped gushing about him—his business talent, his personal life. He owned gold mines and… something else, she forgot. It was all praise anyway.
What good is all that money.
Earl or commoner, it meant nothing to Lauren. To her, Cedric was just a bastard.
Days had passed since the ridiculous stunt at the restaurant, but the cut on her right wrist still hadn’t faded.
“You’ll see me again.”
She couldn’t get that confident voice out of her head. She pressed her temples.
She’d walked out without looking back, but pretending nothing happened was impossible. If he got stabbed somewhere, she might just drop dead without knowing why.
I’ll have to meet him.
Get a proper apology, get what she deserves, and settle things—preferably with a contract, nice and legal.
Reviewing the plan, Lauren smiled in satisfaction. A bodyguard was acceptable, she supposed.
She tore the newspaper along the edges, removing the advertisement. Before writing a letter to Cedric Collins, she had to visit the Noah Detective Agency.
The agency wasn’t far from her home. A good 30-minute walk, but at least she didn’t need a carriage.
Lauren tucked Cedric’s check into her bodice and marched toward the address.
But… is this really it?
She looked up at the building. A two-story structure that looked one cough away from collapsing, with a half-erased sign.
At first she thought she was lost—no matter how deep she went into the alley, nothing appeared.
…Is this a scam?
She calmed her nerves and climbed the creaking stairs. The door was as shabby as the building itself.
For a place boasting it could solve anything, it clearly hadn’t solved its financial troubles.
She pushed the door open gently, and the sight inside was a spectacle. A floor covered in chipped white tiles made it feel more like a bathroom than an office.
Aside from a worn fabric sofa, a glass table, and a brazier with a kettle on it, there was barely any furniture. Paper was everywhere.
Is anyone here?
She stepped forward slowly. The floor was littered with junk as well—she had to watch where she placed her feet.
A fountain pen leaking black ink, little wooden animal carvings, and a pair of round glasses with thin rims.
“Uh—hey! Excuse me—don’t step on that! I really need it!”
A head suddenly popped up from the sofa cushions. Lauren nearly screamed. The man must have sensed her shock, because he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
