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Chapter 56
The Lady Only Deals with the Real Thing
A few hours later.
The place I was now in was not the sanatorium, but the train returning to the capital.
“Since being admitted to the sanatorium, his condition had shown signs of improvement. …At least until yesterday.”
The doctor’s words lingered in my ears.
Until yesterday, he said, Grandfather’s health had been perfectly fine.
His memory was intact, and he hadn’t shown any of the side effects from the snowmint root—like suddenly collapsing into sleep.
And yet, of all days, today…
“The patient did not wake up after last night. When the nurse tried to rouse him, he asked, Where am I? Who are you? As if he had forgotten being admitted here altogether. He is asleep again now.”
After much pleading, I was only barely allowed to see Grandfather through a pane of glass.
Through the window, he lay there with his eyes closed.
It was just like that last moment in my previous life—right before I was dragged away helplessly by Rosanne and Hugo.
I bit my lips hard, swallowing down my tears until the very end, and whispered:
“I’ll cure you, Grandfather. I promise I will…”
Rubbing my eyes raw, I splashed my face with cold water as if to wash away the heaviness.
I’ll find out. I’ll find out what’s causing Grandfather’s illness.
Of course, I had already investigated the disease called Mendax.
But perhaps because it was so rare? Beyond the data Stefan gave me, I couldn’t find a single piece of useful information.
I wondered if there was another way—and then something came to mind.
That’s why I met with Hanna this morning.
Hanna, as the imperial archives officer, had access to far more ancient documents than I ever could.
So, I made a request of her.
If you find any ancient texts depicting the snowmint root, please send them to me.
If I couldn’t find anything about the disease, perhaps I could work backwards by studying the herb used to treat it.
After all, the names of illnesses change across time and countries, but the appearance of herbs does not.
When I told her I needed it for herbal identification and asked for illustrations, Hanna readily agreed.
There’s a chance word might leak, but even if Rosanne and Hugo find out, I can just say I need it for my own health. Now isn’t the time to be picky.
Dwelling on things that had no immediate answers wasn’t wise.
But even knowing that, my heart sank.
In the distance, I could see the pawnshop.
I arrived far later than I thought. I won’t be able to open for business today.
Grandfather used to open the pawnshop six days a week.
I had kept it open seven days, unlike him, to spread the word of our reopening.
Now that business was back on track, maybe it was fine to have a regular day off.
Fiddling with my necklace, I headed toward the shop—when a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.
“You’re late.”
It was Alter.
He was leaning against the door.
Since I didn’t say a word, Alter added quickly:
“…Not that I was waiting for you, so don’t misunderstand.”
I didn’t say anything, but sure, fine.
Forcing a smile, I steadied my roughened voice.
“I was just surprised to see you again—it’s been a while.”
“At most, you were gone a few days.”
“Hmm, true. But still, I was waiting for a customer or two.”
“…You were waiting for me?”
His face was shadowed, so I couldn’t see it clearly.
“Yes. I never properly thanked you that time.”
“Ah, that Holy Knight thing. …It wasn’t such a big deal that you need to thank me.”
“I was taught that words of gratitude or apology cost nothing, so you should always say them. Thank you for helping me.”
The memory of Grandfather teaching me that made me hold my breath for a moment before I put on my shopkeeper’s smile again.
“But today, the shop is closed. I’m sorry, but unless it’s urgent, could you come back tomorrow?”
“Closed? This pawnshop ever had such a thing?”
“It does now. Something came up today.”
“What…?”
As I moved to unlock the door, Alter’s face finally came into view.
He stared at me intently, lips parting as if to say something—then shutting again.
Like he was holding words back.
And then?
He suddenly turned on his heel and left.
Really now, he didn’t even give me the chance to say goodbye.
I thought he’d pry a little, but the way he left so quickly was odd.
Maybe it wasn’t urgent after all.
Tilting my head, I opened the door, slipped the [Closed] card into place, and locked up again.
I pulled the pendant from my bag, placed it in the storage on the second floor, then crawled under a blanket behind the counter.
It’ll be fine after I sleep. I’m just tired, that’s all.
But even with my eyes closed, sleep wouldn’t come.
As I lay there for a long time, suddenly—knock, knock.
Maybe a customer who didn’t notice the sign…
I staggered to my feet, only to see—
“Open the door.”
Alter, again.
What on earth, was I dreaming?
I rubbed my eyes, but he spoke again:
“Open up, or come outside. Your choice.”
The abrupt options left me with no room to think.
Almost without realizing, I opened the door. Alter strode in and sat down at the counter.
Like he owned the place.
Does he really have something urgent today?
Still, since I owed him for the Aylan matter, maybe I should hear him out.
“You have forks, right? Eat this.”
He plopped a cake box on the counter.
…What?
My brain half-froze in confusion. As I blinked, he said bluntly:
“I bought it because I was hungry. But it’s too much to eat alone, so you have some too.”
“…What, did you maybe pick it up off the street or something?”
“Where would you even pick up cake? And do I look like someone who’d bring you something I found on the ground? I bought it.”
Seeing his exasperated face, I couldn’t help but laugh.
And it wasn’t my practiced business smile—it was a real laugh.
Alter stared at me for a moment before sharply turning his head away.
Maybe it’s the candlelight, I thought. His ears seemed a little red.
After making some tea, I returned and gasped at the sight.
“Wow, this cake has so many cherries on it! Looks delicious. I really love cherries.”
“Good. I was debating what to get.”
“Good? Me liking cherries is good?”
“…Good that there’s a patissier in this district who doesn’t skimp on ingredients.”
“Ah, I see.”
His obvious discomfort was amusing. Still, thank goodness it wasn’t blueberry or carrot cake.
It would’ve been awkward to just pick at it in front of the person who bought it.
“You said you were debating? What else was there?”
“Blueberry.”
“Oh, then why’d you pick cherry? Do you like cherries too?”
“You don’t eat blueberry, do you?”
My eyes went round.
“How do you know that? I’ve never said so. You must really be interested in me—”
“I guessed. There was a big blueberry cake from this bakery on your counter, and only one plate on your side. If you liked it, you would’ve eaten too.”
“You noticed while waiting?”
“Yeah, I wait—… No. I just happened to notice. I have excellent powers of deduction.”
He pressed his forehead and jerked his chin toward the cake.
“Eat. You look hungry too.”
Ah, so he must’ve seen Crescens’ blueberry cake I hadn’t cleared away before rushing out.
But me, looking hungry? Really?
As I moved the blueberry cake away, I caught my reflection in the mirror—and froze.
My lips were chapped and torn from biting, my eyes red and swollen.
This doesn’t look like hunger at all…
I thought of how Alter had suddenly turned away earlier, and smiled faintly.
He might be a criminal, but… he doesn’t seem like a bad person.
Like a cup of warm iced coffee—it made no sense, but it was the only way to describe him.
He cared when the ceiling collapsed, and now this too.
Instead of prying, he brought me cake—that was consideration.
Even if it was just customer service, so what?
I gratefully accepted his kindness.
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
The cake, loaded with cherries, was delicious.
After running around all day without eating or sleeping, I felt like my eyes finally opened wide again.
“Soaked in rum, it seems.”
Alter, however, didn’t seem to like it. After a few bites, he stopped, sipping only his tea.
Then, slowly, he spoke.
“About your grandfather—the one who supposedly went traveling. Did he ever say when he’d be back?”
Was this small talk? Or was this the “urgent matter”?
The way he asked so abruptly confused me.
Thinking back to that first man who looked like a lieutenant, I decided to answer honestly.
“No. He never told me anything.”
“Not even where he went?”
“…No.”
By now, had Grandfather woken up?
The sweet cherry cake felt heavy in my chest.
Forcing a smile as I took another sip of tea, I added:
“He raised me for nearly twenty years while running the pawnshop. He never had time for himself. I’m sure he’s enjoying himself now—seeing the sea, the mountains…”
“What kind of man was he? Your grandfather.”
Hm… now that sounds like actual small talk.
