Chapter 3: What She Could Do
It was a somewhat lukewarm response. He caught her expression slightly twisting as if burying something in her heart. However, he pretended not to notice.
“It seems today isn’t the day for this conversation. Shall we continue it another time? Is that alright?”
“Yes…”
After watching her furrowed brow for a moment, Kaylon checked the time and rose from his seat. He observed the still motionless woman briefly before heading out.
Only then did Lyra lift her head. She stared blankly at where Kaylon had been and let out the breath she’d been holding.
“He wouldn’t… abandon me, would he?”
The worry she couldn’t voice earlier slipped through her thin lips.
* * *
“Will you be visiting the library again?”
Hannah asked as Lyra was about to rise after finishing dinner. She watched Lyra while clearing away the empty plates.
“Yes. There’s still so much I haven’t read.”
Lyra felt urgent. Just thinking about how naive she’d acted during breakfast with Kaylon yesterday made her want to hide somewhere in shame. Though she’d hurriedly tried to copy his actions one by one, even a child would probably have done better.
Seeing Lyra like this, Hannah had tipped her off yesterday afternoon about the reception library. Though it had been difficult to approach because it was attached to the east wing where the duke stayed, Hannah’s suggestion gave her courage.
Since then, Lyra had been rushing to the library. While she couldn’t yet read fluently, even this much helped ease her worries somewhat.
Fortunately, it was stocked with various educational books from “Dining Etiquette of Prestigious Noble Houses” to “A Lady’s Guide to Living,” making her feel she could now start correcting her bad habits and filling in what she lacked.
To do this, she needed to read books, practice her posture, and diligently learn unfamiliar words, not just today but going forward. Though she didn’t know when it would be, she couldn’t embarrass the duke.
“I’m going now.”
Lyra said to Hannah after smoothing out her crumpled skirt. Then she grabbed a lamp and rushed into the hallway before hearing a response. Hannah was busy all day cleaning up after her; she couldn’t keep her around late into the night.
She opened the library door, once again steeling her determination.
* * *
The sign for ‘Rogedale Capital’ flickered with a dim light. Since night was the time for gambling and pleasure, many people sought out the establishment from early evening.
Most visitors entered and left with their fedoras pulled low and collars turned up to hide their faces, but the clerk at the window knew most of them by sight. The first time was always the hardest—after that, coming to beg for money became commonplace.
She quietly sneered at the nobles who not only squandered their fortunes but seemed ready to sell their wives and young children too. But since she couldn’t show such feelings openly, only a painted-on gentle smile graced the clerk’s lips.
“Is this your first time here?”
“It is.”
“Could you fill out a few details here?”
“No, I haven’t come to borrow money…”
The man slightly bowed his head, avoiding eye contact with the clerk. He seemed ashamed, as a supposed noble, to be frequenting a loan shark’s establishment. He kept looking down, his lips barely moving as if uncertain whether to speak.
“Sir?”
The clerk called out to him, unable to wait any longer.
“I’d like to see the president.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but I was told I could see the president if I came to the main branch.”
The clerk tilted her head at his words, then responded with an “I see” as if remembering something. She tapped the paper on her desk with her finger.
“Still, you’ll need to fill out the basic information.”
The clerk smiled brightly as she stared at the man. Recording personal information was non-negotiable, regardless of who they were. Names were credit, and this procedure was essential for tracking down nobles who might run away with the money.
Finally, the man sighed quietly and slowly took up the pen. He briefly wrote down his name, age, title, residence, and purpose of visit, then spoke softly to the clerk.
“Is that sufficient?”
The clerk, who had been adjusting the brown porkpie hat perched on her crown, glanced at the name on the form and once again showed her painted-on smile.
“Yes. Though it’s usually impossible without an appointment, I’ll make a special exception for you. But you’ll need to keep this matter confidential.”
“Thank you.”
The man’s voice trembled slightly. He sounded relieved, as if believing everything was now settled.
The clerk gave him a brief smile before continuing.
“However, the president is currently in a meeting. You’ll have to wait quite a while—would that be alright?”
“That’s fine. I just need to see his face. Should I wait over there?”
Dark green eyes appeared between his hat and collar as he looked up at the clerk. His demeanor notably different from before, he immediately pointed to the black chairs beside some ornamental plants.
It was a waiting area, already occupied by many others waiting their turn.
Though there was actually a separate room for important guests, the clerk pretended not to notice and simply replied to the man’s question.
“Yes, please do.”
The man turned away as soon as she answered. The clerk watched him thoughtfully before calling over a nearby guard and whispering in his ear.
“Two hours should be enough, right?”
After confirming the guard’s nod, she immediately called the next number.
“Number 52!”
As her clear voice rang through the hall, another man in similar attire hurriedly stepped forward.
* * *
“Mmph! Mmmph! Mmph!”
The man tied to the chair thrashed violently, rattling it. Though trembling with fear, he kept trying to signal upward.
Michel, who had been conversing with Kaylon, walked over to the man and struck him hard on the back of his head.
“What, you think you’re number 75 or something? Stay still, would you? You’re getting on my nerves.”
“Mmmmph! Mmmmmmph!”
The man lifted his head again from where it had bent forward and continued making noise.
“My, someone doesn’t understand simple instructions.”
Michel, his irritation obvious, finally drew his knife. He twirled the sharp blade in front of the man’s eyes before embedding it in the chair’s armrest.
“Mph!”
The man squeezed his eyes shut, startled by the thought that just a slight deviation would have put a hole in his thigh. His diaphragm began to spasm with hiccups.
“Hic!”
Michel watched quietly, the corners of his mouth lifting in satisfaction.
“Should have listened when we were being nice.”
His gentle features twisted into a somewhat vicious smile, the kind that often made Kaylon click his tongue in disapproval. It was the kind of wicked smile that made even Kaylon shake his head.
Michel observed the face covered in sweat and tears before turning back to Kaylon.
“We searched the area, but found no other accomplices. Given that he was foolish enough to sneak in alone, he’s likely a scout.”
“Hmm.”
“But how did he find this place? He doesn’t seem to know much of anything.”
“Indeed.”
Kaylon’s gaze darkened. Seated in the angular wooden chair, he stared at the man whose eyes darted about nervously.
That made two. Kaylon fell into thought as he rolled the badge between his fingers.
‘This can’t be coincidence.’
As Michel suggested, if the count had already found him, it could derail their plans. Though the count’s nature meant he wouldn’t announce this to society or formally charge him, he’d likely try anything else.
What would he do when he discovered his spy’s communication had been cut off?
The badge disappeared into his palm with a tight grip. The slight upturn of his lips suggested he was enjoying the situation.
Kaylon tucked the badge into his chest pocket, uncrossed his legs, and stood.
“Leaving?”
“Indeed. Extract whatever you can from him.”
“No need to ask twice. He came crawling right to us—couldn’t be more convenient. Makes my job easier too. Please rest comfortably at home.”
Michel gave a casual salute to Kaylon’s back before carefully examining the equipment on the metal shelves to resume his interrupted work.
Just then, as a door opened, Kaylon’s voice was heard again.
“What is it?”
Michel frowned as he turned to see a guard standing stiffly at attention by the door. Seemed another headache had developed upstairs.
“Someone wishes to see the president.”
“Who?”
At the casual question, the guard glanced at Michel approaching from behind before completing his report.
“Baron Norris from Mares, sir.”
“Baron Norris? Why?”
It was Michel who answered. He had already moved to stand beside Kaylon, listening to the guard’s explanation.
“Regarding a loan repayment, I believe. The Turia branch referred him here.”
“Ah, right.”
Michel turned to Kaylon as the memory returned, his look clearly asking how he wanted to handle this.
They’d given notice of accelerated loan maturity citing Mares’s economic downturn, and set high default interest rates—enough to make anyone sweat.
One wrong move and he’d lose not only his sole mansion but his title too. It was understandable.
Though this had been entirely their intention, the baron had unfortunately provoked the duke’s displeasure. Michel quietly clicked his tongue as he briefly mourned Baron Norris’s fate.
“Go meet him. Proceed as planned.”
A faint smile flickered across Kaylon’s lips before disappearing as he gave the casual order.
Michel quietly watched his superior’s back as he walked down the corridor with even steps, then held out his hand to the guard. The guard handed over a fake beard and fedora.
Michel expertly attached the beard under his nose, pulled the hat down low, and headed upstairs.
