Chapter 39
The green leaves outside the window turned yellow, and white snowflakes fell alongside the dry leaves. It was a season where droplets hanging from bare branches sparkled in the chilly sunlight.
As winter came to an end, Walter couldn’t take his eyes off the urgent mail that had arrived from the Eastern Front. The label on the envelope marked “Top Secret” sent a chill down his spine as usual.
[Leonhard John Rockford has died. Suspected poisoning. Believed to be the work of the Eastern Empire.]
In that place where his father had passed away, Walter was now losing his last remaining family.
When he opened his eyes, his entire body was drenched in sweat.
After a period of calm dreams, he found himself in a restless state again. Slowly closing and opening his eyes, Walter lifted his heavy body.
“……”
The bedroom was brighter than usual. It wasn’t just that the rain had stopped; morning had already passed dawn.
He wiped his cold face and rang the bell. Soon after, the head maid and Emily entered together, naturally drawing the curtains and filling the bathtub with water.
“Since you slept in late, I suppose you had another bad dream.”
The large hand of the grandfather clock passed ten o’clock. Walter quickly emptied the soda water handed to him by the head maid and got out of bed.
“Colonel, it’s Hamilton.”
At that moment, a deep voice called from outside.
It was rare for Walter’s adjutant to come all this way unless he hadn’t shown up for morning training. Walter gestured for the head maid and Emily to leave, and they swiftly exited the bedroom.
“Report.”
He turned his gaze away from Sergeant Hamilton, who saluted at a perfect angle. The sergeant began to report in a stiff tone.
“The family and staff of the subject under protection left the mansion around nine o’clock this morning.”
Walter paused as he was tying his robe and raised his head.
“Left? To where?”
“Everyone except the subject left, some by carriage, others on foot. The subject has returned to the mansion. Shall we find out where the rest went?”
He felt momentarily dazed after waking up. Walter approached his subordinate and asked again.
“So you’re saying that Hermia Vansen is alone in the mansion right now?”
Sergeant Hamilton unconsciously lowered his gaze. Despite wearing flat slippers, he stood at eye level with Walter, who wore thick-soled military boots.
To avoid feeling intimidated by Walter’s height, which easily surpassed six feet, he lifted his chin slightly.
“I don’t know much about what’s happening inside the mansion, but all registered servants of Vansen have left with their bags.”
“……”
Walter turned away and ran his hands through his hair. His long eyelashes cast shadows under closed eyes as he seemed to be deep in thought.
The sergeant momentarily lost focus at that sight but returned to attention when their eyes met again.
“Stay as you are for now. Just find out where the Count and Countess are going.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Why are you here instead of Lieutenant Wilson?”
“The lieutenant moved to the operation area around 3 PM yesterday. I believe a report has been filed…”
Now that he thought about it, he had indeed sent Nora off with Henry.
Asking where she went after sending her off was unlike him. Walter dismissed his confused subordinate with a gesture and slowly walked into the bathroom.
He leaned back against the steaming tub and tilted his head back. Covering his face with wet hands, he let out a low groan.
Everyone left except for her. Should he have stopped her when she said she was returning to Vansen?
Was it really right to send that small, delicate woman back to a house where she would be starved and mistreated?
He remembered her saying she didn’t want to marry and preferred to live alone, but because she’d been drunk, he hadn’t tried to stop her. He’d been too worried about coming off as overbearing or pushy, but was that really what was best for her?
Think again, Walter Rockford. Was that truly for the best?
Even as he sat leisurely in the tub, he felt pathetic.
If only he’d met her earlier, before she had suffered so much that she overturned the table in front of the princess. If only…
The image of Hermia expressing herself brightly and honestly since coming here flickered before him. He found himself wanting to see her again.
Should I bring her back? No. It’s been only a few days.
What if I offered her money? That’s crazy. How could I see Miss Hermia like that?
Maybe just a little. Yes, just a little more time before visiting her. Just enough to check in and make sure she’s doing okay, under the pretense of a casual visit.
Slowly planning each step. Naturally blending into her life.
With this firm resolution, he slowly rose from the tub. Water dripped down from his well-toned muscles developed through years of intense training.
—
“Oh, found another one!”
Her hand rummaging through her pocket grabbed a bundle of paper. On the floor lay a men’s velvet jacket and pants that had already been searched through earlier, carelessly scattered about.
Hermia unfolded crumpled bills while exclaiming,
“Bingo! 100,000 Persos!”
Hiding emergency funds in last season’s closet—what a simple-minded father he was!
Looking down proudly at the neatly spread bills on the floor made Hermia smile brightly.
427,000 Persos.
This was the result of searching through her father’s dressing room all evening. She felt immensely satisfied with this larger-than-expected harvest.
Tomorrow, she would search through Countess Vansen’s bedroom.
As she gathered up money with a grin on her face, Hermia happily ascended back to her room after completing her valuable labor but paused briefly in front of the bathroom door—should she wash or not?
“I’ll wash in the morning.”
Her indecision vanished quickly. No one was watching or would say anything; so what difference did it make?
In the morning, I filled my stomach with leftover food and locked the door well. When I turned off the old lamp hanging on the wall, the light quickly dimmed.
Suddenly, the room went dark, and it was eerily quiet, as if a mouse had died. Relying on the faint moonlight, she crawled slowly into bed.
“Good night, Hermia.”
About five minutes after saying that and closing her eyes, she was still staring at the ceiling with a clear mind.
Staring blankly. Blinking. It was so quiet that it felt like she could hear the sound of her own blinking.
She felt an unsettling sense of having forgotten something.
“That’s right! The cricket bat.”
She suddenly remembered the bat she used to keep by her bedside on nights when her stepfather was away.
Hermia sat up abruptly and fell into deep thought again. It was unlikely that a sports item used by commoners would be found in a count’s household.
Polo, enjoyed by nobles, required riding horses, so there wouldn’t be any equipment available either.
…or so she thought until she spotted a polo stick prominently placed in one corner of the count’s study. She scratched her head; not being able to play and having equipment were two different matters.
Hermia set down the candlestick she had brought onto the desk and grabbed the shiny stick. After swinging it a few times in the air with both hands tightly gripping it, she decided it could serve as a decent self-defense tool.
Holding the long stick like it was her life and carrying the candlestick in her other hand, she was suddenly startled by a flash from the study window. The room brightened momentarily like daylight before plunging into darkness again.
As lightning struck, Hermia instinctively quickened her pace. The ominous rumbling from the sky soon erupted into an explosive sound.
The thunder roared, hitting her eardrums and heart at once, while the sound of rain began to grow louder as it fell steadily.
The heavy monsoon rain poured down again fiercely. Coupled with the loud thunder and lightning, the once peaceful mansion was suddenly enveloped in a chilling atmosphere.
It felt like a ghost could appear at any moment without seeming out of place. Perhaps it would have been better to just light the lamp after all. The small candle flame flickering on the wick swayed precariously.
As she climbed the stairs relying on that flickering light, she heard creaking sounds that were unusually loud—sounds she had never noticed before.
“…Is it ghosts I’m afraid of? Or is it people?”
She muttered in a deliberately gruff tone.
A ghost wouldn’t come demanding money if they wanted to kill her. I’m not scared. I’m not scared at all.
Unfortunately for her, it seemed that the magical incantation that had worked perfectly in front of the countess had lost its effect. Her legs trembled, and tension flowed through her body like someone on a tightrope.
When she rushed back to her room almost running up the stairs and placed the candlestick on the nightstand, it happened.
– Miss Hermia.
“Ahhh!”
At that moment, a cavernous voice echoed from behind her, causing Hermia to freeze in place and cover her ears.
– It’s me.
“Ahhh!”
This time, it was a whisper right next to her ear. Hermia sprang up from her crouched position and bolted out as if she were having a seizure.
She wasn’t in her right mind as she ran. Could there really be ghosts in this world? What did I do wrong? Could that ghost possibly be a member of Ban.Sa.Yo?
Hermia dashed straight to the countess’s bedroom and struggled to pull open a locked drawer in the nightstand. Naturally, it wouldn’t budge at all.
She ran to the vanity and grabbed another drawer handle. But this one too only rattled while remaining firmly locked.
“Damn this paranoia!”
As she cursed roughly, she looked around and spotted a console drawer attached to the wall. Without hesitation, she reached out for it. Thankfully, it opened without resistance, revealing rosary beads and a cross necklace that belonged to the Countess when she went to church.
Grabbing whatever she could find in haste, Hermia brandished them threateningly into the air.
“Get out of here right now! I am devout—well, not particularly devout—but I’ve been to church several times!”
– I’ve been too. It’s a good place for naps.
“I—I was baptized! Sure, it was just for the bread, but still!”
– White bread? Ahh. That communion wafer. It has no taste at all.
It was maddening. She thrust the cross toward where the voice was coming from but saw no effect whatsoever. The ghost’s voice became even clearer and seemed to carry a hint of laughter.
– Miss Hermia, have you already forgotten my voice?
“Don’t talk to me; just go away!”
With desperate determination not to let anything approach her, Hermia prepared for battle.
“Ahhh!”
Tap tap. Startled by a sensation brushing against her shoulder, Hermia dropped the cross. And before her eyes appeared:
– I told you not to be surprised.
Surprisingly, it was Gerald.
