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Chapter 56
“This request, too, is something I’m doing purely because I want to, so you don’t need to feel any burden about it.”
If Ian hadn’t emphasized it like this, Betty might have just kept thanking him and insisting she’d repay him somehow.
But Ian knew he could genuinely do many things for her without a second thought, and he wanted Betty to understand that.
He wanted her to recognize that, no matter how rude she acted in front of him, he would receive it without taking offense.
Whatever Betty said, if she chose to do it, he would listen willingly. If it meant breaking down the walls between them himself, he would do so.
“…Yes.”
Ian confirmed that Betty was ready to listen, then finally got to the main point.
“There are almost no records of the original creator of ‘Rocselon’. The theater where it was first performed went bankrupt and closed down.”
“So, there’s no one left to ask?”
“There aren’t any people, but the theater still exists. I got permission to enter it, and I thought you might want to see it for yourself, so I wanted to ask you.”
Ian handed her an old key that had been sitting in the corner of the desk.
Of course, he didn’t mention that he actually owned the theater, meaning no one could interfere even if she stayed there indefinitely.
“You… found out this quickly?”
“Cain worked hard on it.”
Reluctantly, Ian acknowledged Cain’s effort.
If Cain had heard that, he might have complained, wondering if Ian was just praising him for digging around for information.
Still, Ian didn’t like that Betty’s attention was being diverted elsewhere.
“I should thank Sir Cain properly later.”
That was it—exactly this. Ian felt a twinge of jealousy at the kind of familiarity he himself didn’t have but Cain seemed to possess.
Yet, it was somewhat comforting that someone from his own group was there to accompany Betty if she appeared vulnerable in his absence.
Ian was caught in these conflicting feelings.
“I’ll deliver your thanks for you.”
He spoke gently to Betty, who was lost in thought with the key he had handed her balanced in both hands.
“Shall we go now?”
In fact, this was the crux of why he called this conversation a ‘discussion.’ He had been waiting for a reason to say this, stretching the excuse to extend time with her.
“Now?”
“It would be dangerous for you to go alone later. Better to have a guard with you.”
It didn’t really matter which of his subordinates served as her escort, and Betty didn’t question why it had to be him.
“I also only just got the key from Cain, so I don’t know what’s inside yet.”
It was true—he had received the key just before bringing her. And he suspected Betty would prefer to see the theater for herself rather than having someone collect the information for her.
Especially considering how she had wandered around the theater, captivated, when she had first seen Rocselon.
“Aren’t you busy?”
“No, I’m not.”
His lie slipped out casually but sounded believable.
Betty’s cautious gaze scanned the still-messy room, clearly reluctant.
“If you’re going out because of me while busy…”
“There’s nothing important here.”
Ian slid the papers left on the desk further out of her sight. Yes, there were pending tasks, but those could wait until tomorrow—or the day after.
Betty wasn’t someone who could stay here tomorrow or the day after.
“Then, I want to go too.”
Betty had to admit it herself. Honestly, if Ian had suggested someone else accompany her, she would have postponed it. There was no urgency to discover long-past facts.
But now that Ian was taking the initiative, and she could go with him, she inclined toward going immediately.
The theater Ian brought them to, unlike the one where they had watched Rocselon, was a small one, quite far from the bustling area.
The building had paint peeling from the exterior, a clear sign of long neglect, looking nearly abandoned.
It was definitely not the type of building anyone would want to enter alone.
Ian had the carriage and driver waiting, and he followed closely beside Betty as she approached the entrance.
“The key’s rusty, it’s not easy.”
Even getting in seemed to be a challenge. Ian, prepared to force the door if necessary, took the key from her and turned the lock with ease.
It wasn’t the key, but the jammed door that had been the problem.
No matter how much Betty pushed, the door didn’t budge—but Ian managed to open it with a loud clunk.
Betty stepped back in surprise, bumping into him.
Seeing her lose balance momentarily, Ian held her steady until he confirmed she was standing safely, then looked inside.
Sunlight streamed in through holes in the roof.
The interior was dusty but still visible enough to discern objects. Mold had spread across the walls.
“…It’s really dusty.”
Carefully stepping inside, Betty entered the small hall, surveying the surroundings.
Only now did it sink in: the records, the traces of her late mother, could be somewhere in this place.
“Be careful.”
The floor creaked. Betty followed Ian’s warning, stepping cautiously further in.
She was thinking more about finding the office rather than the theater itself. If she could locate the room the theater master had used, it might contain the records she wanted.
Amid the thick dust, it was easy to spot a room marked with a silver plaque, indicating it was the highest-ranking space.
Betty coughed lightly in the accumulated dust but opened the door.
“There are… so many boxes.”
Clearly, the room had been filled with important things in a hurry.
Betty knew she’d have to go through them all, which was a daunting task.
“Shall we just come back today?”
“Let’s at least look through it once.”
Even though they had been buried under paperwork all day, now digging through dusty boxes, Ian didn’t hesitate.
He had already hung his coat on a corner hanger and rolled up his sleeves.
“You’re going to ruin your clothes.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He opened one box casually, seeing it filled with frames, then set it aside. Betty, seeing a lighter-looking box, opened it herself, feeling like they were on a treasure hunt.
Betty moved closer to Ian and started inspecting the boxes one by one. Silence fell between them for a while.
“I think we’ve looked through everything here.”
After concentrating for a long time, Betty tapped her stiff shoulders, accidentally brushing a precariously stacked pile of boxes nearby.
“Ah…!”
It was too late to stop it. She braced herself for the impending crash as the boxes began to topple.
“Betty!”
But before the impact, a protective body enveloped her.
Betty found herself almost buried in Ian’s arms, his embrace seemingly ready to take the full force of the falling boxes.
The toppled boxes fortunately missed them, crashing to the side. There was no time to worry about that.
Ian held her so securely that she felt her chest pressing against his, her body frozen in tension, unable even to breathe.
