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Chapter 12
The Cruel Truth
“Ha… finally finished. It’s already past midnight? I’ve barely slept these past few days, so I’m exhausted. I told Anne not to wake me, so tomorrow I’ll sleep soundly all day.”
On the night before she was murdered, the Baroness finally completed the ending of Volume 2 and fell into a deep, relieved sleep.
After confirming that the light in his wife’s room had gone out, the Baron carefully entered and checked the manuscript on the desk.
“At last, it’s done.”
He secretly gathered the final portion of the manuscript and hurriedly copied the last scene in his own room.
“Wait, my lady. Are you saying the Baron secretly transcribed his wife’s manuscript? What makes you think that?”
“The Baron used to work in trade, but now he’s resting due to health issues. Yet his right middle finger’s first joint is oddly indented and red—exactly the spot where a pen rests when writing.”
“When did you notice that…?”
“Inspector, the book was in stores just five days after the Baroness’s death. Considering the funeral and the time needed to sort through her belongings, isn’t it impossible that the completed manuscript was discovered and published that quickly?”
“…Yes. When you put it that way, it does seem impossible.”
“The Baron must have been stealing pages little by little, copying them, and secretly preparing for publication without his wife’s knowledge.”
“But… my lady. Didn’t the maid testify that the Baron was home the entire day?”
Eron asked, looking puzzled.
“That could’ve been a fabricated alibi. Inspector, didn’t you hear the same story when you asked around the book district? That someone bought up all the copies of My House Inside the Plane Volume 2?”
“Yes. They said maids bought them all on behalf of noble ladies.”
“That maid was probably… Anne, the maid we saw earlier.”
“What?”
“Excuse me, I came on behalf of my mistress. Do you have My House Inside the Plane Volume 2?”
“Well, well! How on earth did you already know it was out? We didn’t even send word via carrier pigeon. You’re fast indeed. Here you go.”
“Since the author had died, it would’ve been hard to expect Volume 2 to be published. So for the maid to swoop in that very afternoon and buy up all the books the moment they appeared—it doesn’t make sense. I suspect they deliberately released a few copies in the morning, then had Anne buy them all in the afternoon to spread rumors and drive up the price. Putting it all together, that day the Baron must have…”
…That day, after copying the final part of the manuscript through the night, the Baron carefully returned and set the manuscript back on the desk.
“Mmm…”
“She always slept like the dead until noon after finishing a novel. Now then…”
Drip, drip—
After confirming his wife was still fast asleep, the Baron opened the inkwell and poured it all over the manuscript, then quietly left the room.
By the time the Baroness finally awoke, well past noon, the ink had seeped into the carpet beneath the desk and dried.
“Gasp! Wh-what on earth… my desk! Anne! Anne!”
“Yes, my lady, you called?”
“Did you… did you come into my room?”
“No, my lady. You told me not to disturb you under any circumstances. Huh? My lady, your desk!”
The maid was also shocked when she saw her mistress standing before the desk, holding the ruined manuscript, the pages stiff and black with dried ink.
“Did you spill ink, my lady?”
“No! I just woke up and found it like this! Who could have done such a thing…?”
“Since the window was open, maybe the wind knocked over the inkwell last night?”
“Nonsense! If the wind was strong enough to topple the inkwell, it would’ve scattered all the pages too! I finally finished this manuscript… who on earth…?”
With trembling hands and despair written on her face, the Baroness hastily prepared to go out.
“Anne, clean this up. I must leave right away.”
As she rushed out of her study, she suddenly saw her husband standing by the door.
“What’s the matter, my dear?”
“I—I have to go to the stationery shop. The ink spilled and ruined the manuscript. I need to rewrite it before I forget everything.”
“Oh my, how unfortunate. Go on, then.”
“Yes, I’ll be back…”
“Oh, and my dear.”
“Yes?”
“Always be careful when you go into town. The person who wrote those threatening letters might appear and harm you.”
“…What? Oh… yes, I’ll be careful.”
Later, after finally reaching the city center and leaving the stationery shop, the Baroness realized a man in a black cloak was following her. Terror seized her.
“W-what should I do? That must be the one who threatened me. If he follows me home, he’ll know where I live…”
Panicking, she stumbled into a deserted alley.
“I-I should scream…”
“My dear!”
Just as she opened her mouth in fear, a familiar voice startled her.
“Ah—dear? Wh-why are you here…?”
“I was worried about you, so I followed. I feared the blackmailer might stalk you.”
The Baron quietly approached her.
“Oh… so that’s it. You scared me. I thought it was really him—urk!”
Suddenly, a sharp pain tore into her abdomen.
“H-husband…”
“I’m sorry, my dear. Hrk!”
“Ugh!”
Clatter!
The ink bottle she had been carrying fell from her hand and shattered as she collapsed, unable even to scream, her body wracked with unbearable pain.
“My god…”
Eron held his forehead, shaking his head at the dreadful account.
“And… there’s another thing that troubles me.”
“…What is it?”
“The Baron’s hands shook a lot. When he delivered the threatening letters, even when he drank tea. I suspect long-term drug addiction. Just circumstantial, of course. But investigate his surroundings. See if he’s been gambling or using banned substances. It probably overlaps with the time the Baroness was forced to write on cheap paper.”
Neighhh…
“Ah, it seems we’ve arrived.”
The carriage stopped at the mansion. When Royce opened the door, Eron quickly stepped out first, intending to help Himenah down, but she lightly hopped out on her own, unaware of his gesture.
Night had already fallen, and the lamplights along the street flickered.
“Inspector, I hope I didn’t get in the way today. My deductions are only based on circumstantial evidence, but if the Baron really is the culprit, you should act quickly. Otherwise, crucial evidence might be destroyed.”
Lady Silvestre… just who are you?
Eron found himself staring at her, unable to respond, as if bewitched.
“And, forgive me, but may I take the threatening letter with me?”
“Ah, yes.”
Snapping back to his senses, Eron handed her the letter from inside his coat.
“Then, I’ll look forward to hearing good news, Inspector.”
She smiled brightly as she said farewell.
“My lady, your hand…”
“Yes? Oh…”
So even when parting, I should offer my hand for a kiss.
Awkwardly, Himenah extended her hand. Instead of kissing the back of it, Eron pressed his lips gently to her fingers, gazing at her all the while.
The warmth of his lips on her hand, and his unwavering green eyes glowing in the darkness, made Himenah’s cheeks flush.
“Um… Inspector…”
“Eron.”
“…Sorry?”
“Please, call me Eron. I will visit you again once this case is resolved. Would that be all right?”
“Yes… I suppose so…”
“Then, rest well.”
He smiled softly, kissing her hand once more before releasing it.
A unicorn with a smile that could enchant anyone.
Watching the carriage roll away, Himenah thought to herself:
The more I see him, the more I like him.
“Haah! Hup!”
“Ugh!”
Clang!
“Haah!”
“Argh!”
Clang!
Two knights sparring with wooden swords against Kylian both collapsed almost simultaneously, dropping their weapons.
“You’re putting too much strength in your arms. If you can’t control your power, your movements slow down, and the sword itself loses force.”
It was morning, the sun already heating the air. In the Ackticos training grounds, Kylian, shirtless like his men, was personally instructing them in swordsmanship.
Each movement revealed the cleanly honed muscles of his body, sweat glistening on them like polished stone.
Every time his wooden sword disarmed an opponent, the other knights watching couldn’t help but gasp in awe.
He’s so steadfast… even training his men himself without a moment of complacency.
Whale, who had served him for years, found himself admiring his lord anew.
“That’s enough for me. Continue sparring with each other.”
“Yes, Captain!”
“You should take it easier. Do you realize how many knights end up in the infirmary after sparring with you?”
Whale handed him a towel, half scolding.
“Good. Then that old physician will have plenty to keep him busy.”
“Ha!”
Knowing full well the physician’s constant nagging at Kylian to take care of his precious body, Whale couldn’t help but laugh.
“And the servant we sent to Caraphedon yesterday? Did he bring a reply?”
“No, sir. The lady was out in the capital. He only delivered the flowers and asked her maid to send a written reply.”
Kylian walked back toward the palace with Whale, deep in thought.
“So she recovered quickly enough to go out. That collapse of hers was probably just a petty trick to gain your attention, Captain.”
Whale clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“If she could turn her lips blue and make her face pale in an instant, then she must be a sorceress. But that’s not the case, Whale. That day…”
Kylian recalled the image of Himenah collapsing with a pale face, reaching her hand toward him.
Once again, he hadn’t managed to take her hand.
Neither at the Crown Prince’s birthday banquet, nor at the Empress’s.
He remembered too vividly that other time—when he had turned away from her with harsh words, only to see her fall backwards on the palace stairs. He had reached out desperately, but too late.
Seeing her lying there with blood seeping from her head had shaken him deeply.
No matter her reputation as a wicked woman or a shameless temptress, he wasn’t so cold-blooded that he could ignore a bleeding, helpless woman at his feet.
He had carried her himself to the court physician, but afterward it had taken him a long time to calm his racing heart.
That moment—her horrified face reaching for him, and his own hand just too far to catch hers—had dredged up the cruel memory carved into him seventeen years ago.
