Episode 22
“You said Demian, didn’t you.”
“…."
“No matter who sees him, there is no room for doubt—he is His Lordship’s child.”
The luggage had been an excuse. At the mention of the son she had deliberately kept from speaking of, Rowina’s face turned deathly pale.
“A little… no, I was very surprised.”
At those words, Rowina closed her eyes tightly before opening them again, glaring at him with resolute eyes.
“You haven’t… laid a hand on Demian, have you?”
At the unexpected hostility, Jenok was taken aback, his eyes widening blankly as he fell silent for a moment.
Five years ago, she had been nothing more than a pretty doll, neither more nor less. A mere decorative piece who knew nothing but how to smile.
It had been a relationship with a predetermined end from the start. On the day this woman was ruthlessly abandoned before everyone, it was shallow sympathy that had led him to secretly put money in her suitcase through another person.
That was why, when he learned that the woman before him had secretly given birth to and raised a son, he had doubted his own ears. The woman who had been like a fox, merely gentle and pretty, had transformed into something like a she-cat baring its claws.
At the look in her eyes that suggested she might leap forward and scratch his face at any moment, Jenok admired her inwardly.
“Answer me.”
In the ensuing silence, Rowina, bristling, pressed him.
“Where is my child.”
“I have taken the young master separately.”
“I must see him with my own eyes.”
“Miss Philone. Please calm down.”
At her ragged breathing, Jenok steadily calmed her.
“I am merely trying to help you. If the Duke sees you like this….”
“….”
“It will be difficult for you to endure. Isn’t that so?”
At the quiet question, a shiver swept across her entire body. Her heart dropped with a thud.
Rowina clenched her fists tightly. Killian Devonshire was a man who usually showed little change in emotion, but once enraged, his anger knew no end.
Facing Rowina, whose lips trembled, Jenok finished speaking in a soothing manner.
“That is why I have taken the young master separately. I have assigned an experienced wet nurse to him, so you may rest assured.”
“…
How can I trust you?”
Rowina asked in a tone somewhat softer than before.
The man before her was the only one who had looked upon her, a mistress, without prejudice five years ago. Unlike another person who had watched her with inscrutable eyes, he had been kind and consistently courteous.
But in the end, he was the Duke’s man. As if reading her anxiety, Jenok softened his expression and quietly called to her.
“Miss Philone.”
“…."
“I promise you. I would never harm the child. Nor would His Lordship the Duke.”
It was a solemn, calm voice. At his sincere gaze, Rowina’s shoulders, which had been heaving greatly, gradually regained their composure.
“However, in order to fully protect the young master, some distance is necessary. At least until His Lordship the Duke naturally accepts and acknowledges the existence of his own son.”
Rowina recalled the chilling eyes that had stared at the door Demian had closed.
They had been threatening eyes, as though he would turn the doorknob at any moment and drag out the child hiding behind it.
That was the biggest reason she had accepted a proposal that was little different from a threat. Had she been alone, she would have thrown herself out the window to escape from him.
“I will let you see him briefly on the train. The young master will be riding in a second-class carriage with me.”
Rowina, who had been silent for a long while, slowly raised her bowed head.
“…
I understand. I’ll trust you.”
Only then did Jenok, smiling faintly, guide her to the carriage.
Taking his hand and climbing into the carriage, Rowina looked back a final time at the factory where she had worked for several years.—Jeremy… if it’s Dish… a famous novelist?—Yes. He’s my maternal uncle who raised me. He may have moved, but… could you please contact him and tell him I want to see him? That I miss him very much? Just in case, send word to Harriet’s house.—Of course. By all means. I’ll write.
She had made such a request to Harriet to find a means of escape.
She could not allow herself to be swayed by Killian any longer. She was not afraid of being abandoned again. But Demian getting hurt was absolutely unacceptable.
In order to protect her son, she could shamelessly reach out even to her maternal uncle, whom she had deliberately avoided due to pride and guilt.
The woman who had hoped to stand proudly by his side five years ago had died long ago. It was no different from having drowned in the sea that day. Rowina now faced reality.
Even if Killian acknowledged him as his biological child, Demian was ultimately a bastard. He could not be recognized as a formal heir, nor could his name be entered in the peerage.
The only way for Demian to become the formal heir was for Killian to make her his lawful wife. Not only was that impossible, but even if the position were offered, she would now decline.
She could not live constantly trembling in fear of when and how she might be discarded, catering to his every whim. A squalid reality was better than a luxurious hell.
In that sense, Jenok’s proposal was rather something to be grateful for. While finding a way to escape from Killian, even a brief reprieve was desperately needed.
* * *
The place where Anna Edeun’s body was discovered was the back alley of an abandoned villa.
“It is a poisoning. Judging by her torn upper lip and the blood, it seems she struggled before being forced to drink it. Furthermore, after examining various other circumstances, it is highly likely that the perpetrator was a stranger rather than an acquaintance, and that the crime was planned rather than impulsive. That is how I intend to write the report submitted to my superiors.”
Having examined the body in the cold morgue, Killian turned around and placed a cigarette in his mouth. The coroner, deftly lighting the end of the filter, continued his explanation impassively.
“It seems the man she lived with will be named the prime suspect. There were also testimonies from nearby residents that they ran away together.”
The coroner weighed every word with the utmost care.
The men urgently knocking on his door just as he had returned from work were members of the Gillitus organization, which had newly come to rule this city. Surprised and frozen stiff, he was given a single order.—Perform an autopsy on one body. As secretly as possible, so that no one knows.
Moved to the morgue in utmost secrecy without even notifying the police, the body was quickly autopsied. Performing the autopsy without even an assistant, the coroner had to give his all without a single mistake.
He recalled the day the organization that had ruled this city was replaced overnight. When the leader of those thugs—who would barge in at every chance to extort money under the pretext of seat fees and protection money—was brought into the morgue with a bullet in his forehead, he had secretly rejoiced.
But on the other hand, he had found it odd that a new power would establish itself in this small city that had nothing of note besides a few factories.
According to rumor, Gillitus was an emerging organization that had grown powerful enough not to even glance at places like this. Though he suspected there must be another reason, the coroner was wise enough not to pry further.
“That man will also be found as a corpse.”
Killian, who had been listening quietly to the coroner’s words, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
“Pardon?”
“He killed Anna Edeun and then committed suicide, planning to take all the money and flee.”
In the dim lighting, smoke from the extinguished cigarette rose like fog. Killian, having briefly removed his black leather gloves, put them back on and grasped the morgue doorknob.
“The method of murder is of no consequence.”
“Ah…."
The coroner, watching his back with a vacant expression, belatedly realized his meaning and bowed at the waist.
“Understood. Please take care on your way out.”
Someone was targeting Rowina Philone. And in a very cunning manner.
The moment he took an interest again, a shadow was slowly approaching to strangle him. Killian let out a hollow laugh. It was highly likely that Anna Edeun’s murder had been a warning.
Leaving the morgue, he realized anew that he was like a calamity to that woman.
“Jenok.”
Having climbed into the carriage, Killian sank deeply into the backrest. The bodyguard, taking his hat, answered immediately.
“Mr. Jenok went to fetch Miss Philone. To the train station.”
Instead of replying, Killian gave a slight nod and picked up the half-read newspaper he had been reading. The bodyguard, sensing his master’s foul mood, quietly drew the curtain.
“The child.”
“Mr. Jenok has taken a separate carriage.”
“Make sure he does not come to my attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
She was the woman who, five years ago, had not only had the audacity to betray him greatly, but had even borne a child.
The moment he heard the low voice calling “Mama,” he had wanted to burn down the entire villa. He ought to have shoved the child and Rowina Philone inside and watched them suffocate to death. The only thing that had stopped him was his headache.
Once the headache was resolved, he would simply throw her out, or finish what he had failed to do five years ago.
—Don’t you remember throwing money at me and abandoning me?
Recalling those resentful eyes, another headache surged in. As the carriage began to rumble forward, he closed his eyes instead. His stomach churned with indescribable emotion.
“Mama!”
The moment the carriage door opened, Demian beamed and threw himself into Rowina’s arms.
“Demian….”
The child she had thought would be crying after being dragged away by strange men was unexpectedly excited.
To the dumbfounded Rowina, Demian showed her something.
“Mama. Look at this!”
The moment she saw it, Rowina drew a trembling breath. It was the toy train model Demian had wanted so badly. The toy he had stood glued to in front of the toy shop display case, drooling over time and again.
“And not just this, I have this one too, and that one! The mister said they’re my presents! This outfit too!”
Rowina’s gaze shifted from the toy to Demian’s clothes. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but Demian, dressed in a child’s suit and leather shoes, looked every bit the young noble master.
“What do you think? Dashing? Does it suit me?”
“Yes. Very. You look wonderful… my son.”
At the sight of him looking like a different child, Rowina’s eyes grew red. The past five years had been a time when, struggling to survive in impoverished conditions, she had been unable to buy him a single decent set of clothes.
Seeing her son so happy at the luxury he was experiencing for the first time in his life, something welled up fiercely in Rowina’s chest. Noticing his mother’s ever-changing expression, Demian quietly set the toy down and cautiously asked.