Chapter 82 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡
✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖𝟐 ✦
❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡❞
⟪𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞.⟫
𓆩⟡𓆪───────𖤐───────𓆩⟡𓆪
Johannes locked eyes with me for a brief moment—enough to read the unease that colored my breath.
Then, slowly, he turned to Edward.
“…I believe this concludes the investigation for today. I apologize, but I won’t be able to continue cooperating. As you can see—my wife is visibly shaken.”
Edward leaned back with exaggerated calm, one leg crossing the other. His eyes sparkled with a meaning only he understood.
“I wonder if the Duchess agrees. To be frank, I imagine her discomfort stems more from being beside you, Duke.”
“You’re spouting nonsense.”
“Or maybe she has questions she’d rather ask someone else. Isn’t that so, Duchess?”
He flashed me a knowing smile, wickedly amused.
But even if that hooded figure had been Johannes… I would not let Edward Windsor pry even a sliver of truth from my lips.
“…I don’t know why you think that way. Naturally, I feel safer beside my husband.”
My lips curled in a slanted, guarded smile—a shield as much as a lie.
“Ah, is that so? Then I suppose my conclusion was mistaken. Apologies.”
“It’s fine.”
I answered with a blank expression, neutral as stone.
Edward sighed as if already bored. Then he turned again to Johannes.
“Well then—take her and go. The other naval forces can remain behind. Frankly, this case isn’t nearly as grave as I first feared. I almost feel foolish for calling you.”
“Understood.”
Johannes replied curtly.
Beneath the table, my hands were clenched into tight fists.
Everything was collapsing inward—this tangled scene between fiction and reality, suspicion and truth. A murder mirroring a tale, and Johannes, standing here, just like the book.
Was this the extent of it… or only the beginning?
“You may go,” Edward added. “If we require additional statements, a summons will be delivered. I trust you’ll comply?”
He began rising lazily from his chair.
“That man wore a hood.”
My voice cut through the air like the glint of a hidden blade.
“If this was truly an impulsive crime, he wouldn’t have been hiding his face.”
Edward froze, eyes narrowing just slightly.
“And… if he was truly startled to find a witness, he’d have either fled in fear or silenced me altogether.”
His expression soured.
But I pressed on.
“But that man—he wasn’t startled. He looked amused. No accidental killer would act with such calm.”
“You and your wild guesses again,” Edward muttered, rubbing his temple.
“I am providing a coherent testimony. It might help prevent further deaths. This is the first time the murderer has been seen at the scene—and he spared me.”
“Yes, we’re listening carefully. Your husband, especially, seems quite still.”
“If the killing was planned, then perhaps the killer was a professional. And…”
I glanced toward the lifeless body.
“…May I confirm something?”
“It’s illegal for civilians to interfere.”
Edward frowned… then, strangely, nodded.
“…Go ahead. You’re certainly more competent than the rest of Mussen’s officers.”
Johannes looked like he might intervene—but I stepped forward.
I had seen worse. In my past life, corpses had filled my records like names in a ledger. This… this I could manage.
No one stopped me this time. Perhaps out of respect. Perhaps out of fear. Perhaps simply because I was now Duchess Schulz.
“There are no visible stab wounds. No signs of strangulation,” I murmured. “There’s no immediate cause.”
“You’re suggesting… poison?”
Edward crossed his arms, frowning.
“I believe so. Even if undetectable, poisons don’t need to leave marks.”
I added quickly, avoiding mention of the test paper from before.
“Some poisons dissolve instantly inside the body. And—there’s a faint chemical odor around her mouth.”
Knowledge once locked in the back of my mind had resurfaced. I knew compounds now. I could recognize them.
Yet I had to be cautious—my knowledge might exceed what this world considered “possible.”
I rose slowly, eyes drifting from her blue-tinged lips back to the two men.
“This… this matches the previous basement murder.”
I paused.
“Though the police called that one an accident.”
“…We’ll take it under advisement,” Edward said—his voice flat.
But I saw it: a flicker behind his expression. A cold calculation. A quiet scrutiny.
𓆩⟡𓆪───────✦───────𓆩⟡𓆪
“Lady! What happened?! A murder?!”
Ahin’s voice broke through the heavy air.
She had returned, innocent, stollen pastries in hand, only to find herself swallowed by this chaos.
And when I wasn’t at the café where we were meant to meet—she had searched. And searched.
She gripped my hand tightly.
‘You’re always pulled into danger, aren’t you…? My heart drops every time.’
Her eyes shimmered with worry.
Still—she didn’t complain. She didn’t falter.
‘I won’t leave you alone. No matter what.’
I smiled faintly.
‘Is the escort still…?’
All the way back to Castle Evanstein, I stared out the window. A chill followed me home.
But he never came back.
Night stretched long. My eyes refused sleep.
And by morning—the paper screamed:
“Is it right to leave the pus of Mussen—the Jaywock slums—untouched?”
Even now, they refused to consider the pattern.
Despite my testimony, the police had already decided: this was not a serial crime.
They claimed the location—Jaywock—was simply known for violence. That was enough, it seemed, to kill the theory.
But I knew.
The killer chose such places on purpose.
To avoid suspicion. To bury their sins where no one would dig.
I sighed.
“Did… did the escort return safely last night?” I asked.
Johannes stood in full uniform, hair perfectly styled.
“No.”
His tone was cool. Detached.
He had been like this since we returned. As if he were furious. Or…
I watched him, heart whispering things I dared not name.
“Do you think… something happened to him?”
“You don’t need to worry,” he said, adjusting his tie. “He’s one of the best.”
Still… the fear clawed inside me.
If something had happened—
It would be because of me.
Johannes called my name.
I blinked and stepped closer.
He took a breath—deep, almost hesitant—and opened a drawer.
What he handed me made my breath hitch.
“…What’s this?”
“A revolver.”
It gleamed like a jewel of death. Engraved on the polished metal:
Edith Schulz.
“I should have given it to you sooner,” he said softly. “If you ever see him again—point it.”
I stared.
“You want me to kill someone…?”
He placed it in my hand gently.
“Not kill. Just protect yourself. Threaten, if you must. You’re exposed now.”
“……”
“I won’t lock you inside like some porcelain doll. But if you’re going out—go armed.”
His tone was firm. Sincere.
I saw it in his eyes. The fear. The fury. The love.
“…Alright. I’ll… I’ll keep it.”
I barely whispered the words.
But that was enough.
He stepped behind me—and wrapped me in his arms.
One of his hands folded gently over mine—over the revolver.
“…But even that… might not be enough.”
𓆩⟡𓆪───────✦ 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝… ✦───────𓆩⟡𓆪
