Episode 45
"……."
"No. Let's pretend I didn't hear that. They say there are three people in the world who look alike, so…"
"Very well."
"What?"
The eyes that had sparkled with faint hope turned awkward the next moment at his reply.
"I'll be your friend."
"You'll do that for me? But friends are equals…."
"There is no one in this world equal to me."
"……."
It was an impertinent remark. It was a disagreeable answer, yet spoken with such confidence that no retort came to mind.
The man seemed like an older brother merely a few years his senior, yet also like a distant, unreachable adult. Moreover, whether he was affectionate, cold, or simply capricious was impossible to tell. While the flustered Demian fumbled for words, Killian laid down a condition in a low voice.
"But first, you must promise me one thing."
"What?"
"Not to tell anyone about me."
"Anyone? Even my mom?"
"Anyone at all."
"But Mom and I promised not to keep secrets from each other…."
"I'm a ghost."
Killian, hands clasped over his knees, informed him.
"What you do with a ghost doesn't matter."
"Is… is that really how it works?"
Instead of answering, he nodded and pulled up Demian's blanket—which had fallen to his waist—all the way to his chin.
"It's late. Sleep now."
"Geez, you woke me up… I can't sleep now… Can't we talk more?"
"Sleep."
"If I ask your name—, hnngh."
A large palm descended over his wide-awake eyes. Killian gently closed his eyes and softly stroked his forehead with his index finger. Under the repetitive touch, sleep gradually crept in, unbelievably so. Demian let out a long yawn and drifted into the land of dreams. Only after confirming the child was fully asleep did Killian silently rise.
Leaving the child's bedroom and entering the study, he found Jenok, who had been waiting in advance, rise and bow silently. The moment they sat facing each other on the couch, Jenok got straight to the point.
"Even if the incident in the park was truly an unforeseen accident, this matter is clearly a deliberate plot by someone. I suspect it is connected to those behind the woman named Anna's death."
"On what basis?"
"The body of today's on-duty gamekeeper was found. He was killed in the same manner. It seems to be a grave affair, and the authorities buried it out of fear, but…"
"You're saying it isn't the Queen."
"She has no reason to deliberately orchestrate such an incident within her own domain. In that regard, isn't Her Majesty's disposition known to be fastidious? Above all, the fact that Miss Philone was not the target, but her son was the sole objective, also indicates as much."
"That is true."
Killian, who had been habitually searching the inside of his jacket, stood up and opened a mahogany desk drawer.
Rather than the platinum-engraved cigarette case he had used until recently, the drawer was full of sour candies individually wrapped in luxurious paper. He picked one up and soothed his bored mouth. The sharply spreading sour taste served as a stimulant in place of cigarettes. Since his hands wouldn't smell of tobacco, there was no hesitation in touching the child. Quitting smoking was difficult, but it was worth it.
"Could it be my ex-wife's henchman?"
"I already sent someone to look into it, but I don't think so. A woman practically abandoned by her own family due to drug overdose wouldn't have the means to orchestrate such a thing."
"The child's father is also a possibility."
"I shall gather everything that may serve as a lead."
"Leave."
Standing by the window, pressing his temples firmly, Killian issued an order to leave. Yet there was no sign of anyone departing. He turned around and raised his eyebrows at Jenok, who stood there blankly.
"Is there more?"
"Why did you not punish Benedict even after hearing Melissa's confession? Regarding this incident as well. I believe he is the most likely suspect."
"Gertrude is dead. The only witness left to testify is one maid. How am I to punish him?"
"But—!"
"I already told you more evidence is needed. That is why I sent him on a business trip to the farthest place. And yet this still happened."
"About that—in fact, since yesterday, my subordinates who were secretly tailing him have gone silent."
"……What?"
At the sudden news, Killian's calm expression hardened. Jenok, head bowed, reported with a grave face.
"It seems Benedict realized what was happening, killed my subordinates, and went into hiding. In my opinion, he is the culprit, both in past events and present. I have also obtained evidence that he made contact with the leader of the dismantled organization. He has always been a man blinded by greed and wealth."
"……."
"If the events of five years ago stemmed from excessive loyalty, this time he may have been seized by fear and a sense of betrayal upon Miss Philone being brought back."
A heavy air settled over the study. Tension filled the room to the point where even breathing became difficult, and Jenok slowly finished.
"Keeping all possibilities in mind, I will double the guards around the townhouse."
* * *
Demian's unfortunate incident was buried, and as time passed, the days soon turned to the May fox hunting season. After what had nearly been a terrible ordeal for Demian, Rowina—who abhorred forests—could not avoid the hunt either. Yet she couldn't take Demian with her, so this time Joan alone would attend to Rowina, while Melissa, whom she trusted most, remained at the townhouse with Demian.
"We will take good care of the young master with the wet nurses. Don't worry, Lady Rowina. You have the tutor now as well."
"I'm counting on you… If anything happens, please send a telegram at once."
"You speak as if you're going on some faraway journey. You'll be back in three or four days."
Melissa chided the anxious Rowina without malice and nudged her forward.
"Have a safe trip, then."
"Y-yes……"
Pushed along, Rowina climbed into the carriage, looking back several times. As she sat down and composed her expression, Killian, who had been reading a book, asked indifferently.
"Are you that worried about the child?"
"Well…."
Killian was the one who had allowed her to come to the capital and had given her a room on the same floor of the same townhouse, albeit far apart. At first, she had been terrified and opposed it, afraid he might discover Demian's true identity, but she had breathed many sighs of relief at his attitude of treating the boy as if he didn't exist.
"It's not that."
Since he had been generous, she couldn't be contrary. After briefly thinking of an excuse, Rowina shook her head.
"Then?"
"Lady Taldeon is coming, too."
Rowina turned her head away coolly and looked out the window.
"I don't like that."
An index finger touched her pouted lips. Startled by the playful tap, Rowina whipped her head around to look at him.
"Killian?"
An awkward silence fell. Even the one who had played the prank blinked in disbelief at his own action.
But only for a moment. Killian smiled crookedly and stared at her intently. At that gaze—one that seemed to observe, to discover something—Rowina's face turned bright red.
"Why, why are you looking at me like that?"
"You're wearing the necklace."
"Hm? Ah…."
What he indicated with his eyes was the necklace he had personally clasped around her neck before coming to the capital.
Rowina touched her neck and averted her eyes.
"It's just pretty."
It was to get on his good side until her plan succeeded. Nothing more. Attending this hunting season was another example.
"Rowina."
The moment she turned her head at his call, his face was so close that she held her breath.
Killian leaned in and twirled her long, curled blonde hair around his index finger.
"Young Lady Taldeon means nothing."
"Is that really true?"
"That woman can't even reach the tips of your toes."
It was a calm yet vaguely affectionate remark. Though she had been with him for over three years, it was the first time she had heard such words; her heart fluttered and her eyes grew hot. At the same time, she was furious that this man could still stir her emotions.
To hide her trembling eyes from the tumult of emotions, Rowina quietly took his hand and lowered it away. Then she cast her gaze back toward the window.
"Don't you think those words came too late?"
Her tone was even, feigning nonchalance, but the area beneath her eyes had turned red.
Watching her profile, Killian realized one thing. Since their reunion, Rowina had never once cried before him. She merely smiled like a flower and chirped like a bird.
The last time he had seen her cry was the night five years ago.
He had always hated crying, whether from children or women. It was nothing more or less than a weak means of self-defense. He despised those who tried to control situations with a few drops of tears. To such people, tears were a tool to appeal to emotion and drag others to their will.
"You're a devil. You were playing with me, weren't you?"
He recalled the woman's face—her red-rimmed eyes streaming with tears. Had he thought the same thing then, too?