TDAF 42

Chapter 42

Chief Inspector Hyugun Hanter returned to the Royal Police Headquarters.

Scarlet had left as she was, and Viktor’s behavior had become unusually irritable since then—perhaps out of shame over his ex-wife being seen again. But Scarlet’s memories beginning to come back was a serious problem for Hyugun. For now Viktor knew about her visit and didn’t trust her, but if Scarlet kept pestering him repeatedly, he would launch an investigation.

Hyugun believed Scarlet gave off a strange atmosphere that clouded a man’s judgment, so he was all the more worried that her memories were starting to return.

He loosened his tie and threw it to the floor.

After Viktor Dempfelt and Scarlet Crimson divorced, Hyugun had assumed it was all over. He’d never been through a divorce himself, so he hadn’t realized divorced couples could end up meeting each other again so often.

And nobody in the Royal Police expected that Viktor Dempfelt—who had lived his whole life chasing honor—would want Scarlet Crimson, the woman who had dishonored him, to return home.

“Really.” Hyugun clicked his tongue.

He remembered Scarlet Crimson’s eyes from the interrogation. Clear and sharp, the wine-colored eyes that made you crave a drink. And that love for Viktor Dempfelt that was so innocent it almost looked foolish.

At first, even the Royal Police officers who had stubbornly laughed it off eventually seemed to be intoxicated by that love; it became a headache. They wanted a taste of that boundless affection.

Even Hiram Pitt, the Royal Policeman assigned to watch Scarlet Crimson, no longer felt entirely reliable these days. Reports from Hiram had been nonexistent recently. If Scarlet’s memories were returning, the spy who had been near her should have known. The fact there had been no reports so far made Hyugun very anxious.

Viktor Dempfelt straying from the plan had already worn Hyugun out.

Yuli Iren—crown prince and lover of Hyugun’s younger sibling—hated the idea of Viktor Dempfelt being acknowledged as royalty. It wasn’t only that Viktor would gain access to some Royal Police records or attend royal meetings; above all, Yuli simply disliked Viktor as a man. He wouldn’t be the only one who sensed it—others had picked up on it too.

Born the king’s grandson, with a cradle of jade, Viktor had never lacked the vast wealth he was born into even if he lived wildly. For Yuli to envy a man who’d staked his whole life to take what he was born holding was pathetic, yet Yuli was jealous—and had even persuaded his father to saddle Viktor with an Air Force that didn’t even have planes.

To be honest, Hyugun could somewhat understand Yuli’s feelings when he faced Viktor Dempfelt.

Viktor was an almost unbearably perfect man.

In any case, because Hyugun’s sibling would become the crown prince’s consort, Yuli had come to trust and entrust many things to Hyugun.

He had quickly risen to the rank of chief inspector. As the second son of the Hanter family, he had come to hold so much power that people began to say he had surpassed the eldest, the family heir. If he messed this up, he would fall out of Yuli’s favor.

Hyugun collapsed into a chair, leaned back, and covered his face with both hands.

“Damn it all.” he muttered, and then there was a knock.

“Chief Inspector, it’s Hiram Pitt.”

“Ah, come in.”

He had already been worrying that this man might have betrayed him. As Hiram Pitt arrived, Hyugun waved with satisfied relief.

A very thin, lanky young man stepped into the room.

Hiram Pitt, who worked at Scarlet Crimson’s watch shop under the name Andrei Hamilton, was a second-class Royal Policeman.

Dressed in his uniform for once, Hiram Pitt—Andrei Hamilton—stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’ve come to report.”

“About Scarlet Crimson?”

“No. It’s about Isaac Crimson.”

Andrei spoke in an even tone.

“Police from the nearby precinct have been dispatched to the Crimson mansion just now.”

Right after Scarlet had left for the Dempfelt mansion to look for items to put up for auction, Isaac had headed for the Crimson house.

What kind of child had Scarlet been? Isaac had never once seen that girl receive hate, even into her thirteenth year.

Scarlet was childlike. In the mansion she walked politely when scolded by her parents, but the moment she left the house she’d run around clumsily and loudly.

When their parents died and the nanny who’d been fired left, she had always been a little more fond of Scarlet than of Isaac. As a child Isaac had felt a bit resentful, but looking back now, it was inevitable that someone who laughed easily and liked people would draw more affection.

Until their parents’ deaths, the siblings had been an ordinary pair: not unusually close but not distant either. Everything changed after the carriage accident.

Thirteen was young, but old enough to think sometimes like an adult. At that age, after losing all light and being locked in the attic, Isaac gradually realized that most people in the world followed the logic of power rather than the warm-heartedness their parents had emphasized.

After Arnold announced he would sue Scarlet soon, Isaac started measuring things in his mind.

The siblings could not defeat Ebil Crimson fairly. He had already built many connections, and more importantly, the law of the world was not impartial. The twelve-year-old girl who had once been abused had no protection from any of the world. He knew they couldn’t beat those who always pushed through with force.

When Isaac left Scarlet’s watch shop, he headed straight for the Crimson mansion. The servants looked at him with puzzled expressions when he arrived home—probably thinking his long absence meant he wasn’t coming back.

Isaac ignored those looks, leaned on his cane as he always did, and made for Ebil Crimson’s study.

As he stood at the door, Ebil’s furious shouting could be heard from inside.

“You damned woman who should be in hell! Why don’t you cause problems that can be fixed?! I should have kicked you out of the family ages ago, and you don’t even know how to be grateful!”

Hearing that made Isaac laugh hollowly.

He opened the door.

The moment Isaac entered, Ebil barked.

“You! How did you raise your sister?!”

“……”

“I told you, that wench is a disgrace by birth! She’s determined to ruin this family—”

As Ebil ranted, Isaac removed the black-painted glasses he had been wearing. Seeing his eyes, Ebil’s anger changed into something like amusement; he let out a crude laugh.

“She really made herself into that state, didn’t she?”

Isaac didn’t answer; he looked around the study.

It had been about a fortnight since the moon had been visible. While not perfectly clear, it was obvious the study was in shambles.

This had always been his father’s messy room—he’d refused to let anyone touch it, claiming it had its own place, yet never cleaned it.

Isaac tilted his head toward the wall where their parents’ portraits used to hang. He reached out and fumbled along the wall; the portraits that should have been there were gone.

When Isaac moved as if he could see, Ebil’s hand trembled. He signaled the lawyer to be quiet and leave, then grabbed a paper knife and hid it behind his back.

“What are you feeling around for like that?”

“Weren’t our parents’ portraits here?”

“I put them away safely.”

“Where?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re ready to play the role I need you to. By the way, Isaac, can you even see anything?”

Isaac answered.

“I can. Scarlet gave me a good medicine.”

As Isaac turned to leave, Ebil tried to drive the paper knife into his neck. But Isaac grabbed Ebil’s arm as he turned and stopped the knife a fraction of an inch from his throat. Then, with a calm face, Isaac said,

“I can hear it.”

“H-what?”

“The sound of the paper knife being raised.”

Having lost his sight, Isaac’s hearing had become extremely sharp. He could distinguish many things by sound. He took the paper knife from Ebil’s hand as easily as one might take it from a child.

“You’re gasping because you’re scared to kill me— I can hear that too.”

Isaac brought Ebil’s right hand—the one that had tried to kill him—right in front of his eyes. Then he took the paper knife and pressed it to Ebil’s finger, cutting it off.

“Aaaaah!”

Even a sharp blade is dull for anything other than paper. Ebil’s scream echoed through the mansion. He clutched at his wound and writhed.

“Doctor! Call a doctor! Call the police, now!”

Isaac looked down at the shouting Ebil.

You were on my side, and I was on yours.

That bond—Ebil had left that exact thought in Isaac’s head when he used to make Isaac beat Scarlet.

Isaac soon smiled with an angelic face, untroubled.

“I always wondered. If the roles were reversed, would she have hit me? But no—she’s a saintly child, unlike me. She wouldn’t hit me. Even if it meant she would be beaten to death.”