3. Love Letter (12)
After briefly meeting my gaze, he draped his arm over the sofa armrest and rested his chin on his hand. His face, tilted to the side, seemed lost in thought.
I had spit it out, but now the atmosphere had only grown awkward. I wondered if I had brought up something unnecessary. Just as Lucas held a special meaning in my heart, he held the same for Vincent. Whether that meaning was good or bad. I fidgeted with the hand clutching the letter and waited for Vincent's reaction.
"Alright."
A refreshingly simple answer came after a moment.
"I'll go with you when you meet him."
"Thank you."
I smiled broadly. I was grateful that he would take time out of his busy schedule to go with me, but it was no different from giving me permission to meet the letter's sender. Vincent, who glanced at me acting like that, still showed no reaction.
Then, struck by a sudden thought, I continued gloomily.
"But there's one problem."
"What is it."
"The day I asked to meet in the last letter was yesterday. Actually, yesterday morning they sent another letter saying they were sorry for making me uncomfortable, that I didn't have to come meet them, and that they wouldn't send any more letters."
Vincent looked at me again.
"So?"
"I need to ask to meet again, but I don't know who sent the letters."
Then wouldn't meeting itself be impossible? I hung my head. After pondering for a moment, Vincent straightened his posture.
"Was Ethan at the mansion today?"
"Ah, yes. He should be in his office by now."
He was always there at this time. He'd probably be wrestling with documents right now.
At my answer, Vincent suddenly stood up. I rose along with him. Vincent, having slipped out of the sofa, headed for the door.
"Wait. I'll get ready and be right back."
Vincent headed straight for Ethan's office as soon as we arrived at the Christopher estate. I dismissed the bewildered butler and followed him. When Vincent threw the office door open and strode in, Ethan, who was predictably sitting at his desk groaning over documents, looked up with wide eyes.
"What's this, all of a sudden."
"Who sent the letter."
When Vincent demanded point-blank, Ethan looked bewildered. Vincent held up the letter he had taken from me before getting out of the carriage.
"Why are you asking me that?"
"You know who sent it."
What was he talking about now? I stepped into the office following Vincent and looked at Ethan in puzzlement.
"Me?"
"Yeah. That's why you secretly delivered the letter to Polla. You must have already known who sent it and figured there wouldn't be a problem."
What? Having heard the situation, I let out a scoff of disbelief. Ethan, subjected to Vincent's questioning, glanced at me and turned his head away. What the. Did he really know who sent the letter? Come to think of it, last time he did say that if I really wanted to, he could find out who sent it. What did Ethan say back then? Something about not wanting to do something the person involved didn't want.
'You liar.'
I glared at Ethan coldly. Ethan ignored my gaze.
"So, you want me to tell you who it is?"
"No, I'm going to write a reply, so just send it to them."
"A reply? What reply?"
"To set up another meeting."
Ethan raised an eyebrow in surprise and looked at me.
"You were quiet after receiving the letter yesterday, so you decided to meet?"
"...Yeah."
I answered hesitantly.
"That's unexpected. I thought you'd refuse until the end."
Ethan said, resting his chin on one hand. I was a bit curious about that too, so I scanned the back of Vincent's head. Honestly, I had brought up Lucas... but I still thought he'd refuse, saying it was dangerous. Vincent's nonchalant voice returned.
"Stop talking nonsense. Are you going to send it or not?"
"Alright. I'll send it over."
Ethan raised both hands and readily accepted the proposal. Only then did Vincent turn to look at me. At his gaze that seemed to ask, 'Have you written the reply?' I opened the bag I was carrying and pulled out a stiff letter envelope. I had written the reply in advance last night.
When I handed it over, Vincent passed it to Ethan. Ethan took the letter and assured me he'd deliver it well, so I shouldn't worry. He really did know who sent it. Honestly, I couldn't say I wasn't curious. I considered asking, 'Who sent it?' but stopped myself. I'd find out who sent the love letter when I met them anyway.
And a few days later, Ethan conveyed that the letter's owner had agreed to come to the meeting place. Thus time passed, and the day to finally meet the letter's sender arrived. I finished getting ready early in the morning and headed to the meeting place by carriage.
Throughout the carriage ride, I tried to calm my turbulent mind. Relief at being able to find out who had been sending the letters that had bothered me for a while mixed with anxiety that this might be the dangerous affair everyone was worried about. Watching me grow anxious, Vincent tossed out a gruff remark.
"You'll break through the floor at this rate."
"Huh? Ah, yes."
Without realizing, I had been tapping the floor with my foot. I stopped the restless movement and caught my breath. Sweat kept forming on my palms. Vincent said nothing more as he watched me.
The meeting place was a square located in a village managed by the Christopher estate. In the center of the square was a fountain with a horse statue, and we had agreed to meet at a large tree in the direction the horse's head faced. I slowly made my way toward the spot. Vincent followed along with me.
It must be a prank. It's probably a prank. But if it really was a prank, how should I react? Should I very politely tell them never to pull this kind of crap again, or should I curse them out and ask what the hell they were doing? I organized my thoughts, considering various reactions.
As I approached the tree, a man came into view. He was a young man neatly dressed in a suit. The man glanced around as if looking for someone, then noticed me and gave me a look. I realized I was the person he was looking for.
Could it be...?
When I stopped in front of the man, he bowed at the waist in a polite greeting.
"Thank you for coming."
"Ah, yes. The same goes for me."
Bowing my head along with the man, I felt a bit taken aback. I thought it was a prank... Was this actually a real love letter? No, he might still say 'Just kidding!' even now. I kept a sharp eye on the top of the man's head. But the man, raising his head, said nothing, and there wasn't the slightest hint of joking on his face.
I glanced back at Vincent. Vincent's expression was far from good. His gaze directed at the man was especially murderous. My mind raced quickly. I hardened my expression, trying to feign composure. In my head, I was agonizing over how to reject the man's confession and clean up this situation.
A brief silence passed. I stood stiff, not knowing what to do in the face of this confusing situation, and the man glanced at Vincent standing behind me more often than at me. He seemed puzzled that an unfamiliar person had come along and was gauging the situation since I hadn't introduced who he was. For his part, Vincent stayed quiet to avoid being the first to ruin the situation.
Then the man suddenly looked behind him.
"Miss."
Miss? At the unexpected word, I turned my head in the direction of the man's gaze. Someone was clinging to a tree a short distance away. That someone, upon meeting my eyes, startled and hid their body, but soon peeked their face out again.
I heard the man sigh.
"Please come out now."
"B-but."
"Stop being rude and come quickly."
When the man spoke sternly, the woman clinging to the tree hesitantly stepped out. I scanned her face as she approached.
"You are..."
"A-ah, hello. Miss Christopher."
The woman, her hands tightly clasped together, offered me a greeting with a nervous face. Seeing this, the man clicked his tongue and demanded she greet me properly. At that, the woman released her clasped hands, slightly bent her waist, and offered a polite greeting. Judging from him calling her 'Miss,' the man seemed to be of lower status, but the woman appeared unbothered by his attitude, as if she were used to it.
I belatedly returned the greeting and continued to scrutinize her from head to toe. Sensing my gaze, the woman stuttered as she spoke.
"D-do you remember who I am?"
Of course I remembered. Wasn't she the woman who got caught up in the kidnapping incident with me?
"Yes. I heard things worked out well afterwards, but how is your body holding up?"
"Ah, yes! I'm fine! I had some bruises, but they said there wouldn't be any scarring. H-how about you, Miss Christopher? I was really worried, are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine too."
I spread both arms to prove I was perfectly fine. The woman looked me over and smiled as if relieved. Seeing her smiling so genuinely with her hands clasped together made me feel a bit sheepish.
"But don't you recognize me?"
"Pardon?"
I blinked. What was I supposed to recognize?
"...You really don't recognize me?"
A hint of disappointment flashed across the woman's face. I was only bewildered. She acted as if she had known me for a long time. Other than meeting at the party, had we met somewhere else? But nothing came to mind. I looked back at Vincent again. I gestured slightly toward the woman to him, who was watching us, and mouthed, 'Do you know her?' Vincent shook his head slightly.
The woman's shoulders had slumped at some point. Seeing her look so visibly disappointed, a feeling of guilt welled up inside me. While I scratched the back of my neck, the woman, as if suddenly remembering something, quickly reached up and unbuttoned her collar, pulling out a necklace to show me.
"I-if you see this, you'll remember!"
I examined the necklace in the woman's hand. In the center of a square pendant engraved with small flower patterns along the border was a small, round gemstone. The gemstone emitted a brilliant luster whenever it caught the sunlight, but it had a somewhat outdated design for a young woman like her to wear.
And just as she said, seeing the necklace brought a memory to mind.