Chapter 17: Personal Circumstances (2)
Chapter 17: Personal Circumstances (2)
* * *
‘This is impossible. No matter what, how could something like this happen…!’
Geryl Zauer burst out of the dining room and stumbled up to the fourth floor, his legs shaking so badly he was practically crawling. The door he’d been in and out of endlessly over the past few days was there, his mother’s study. Once the library of Lord Aubert, the enormous room had stubbornly refused to give up what the boy was searching for, despite his repeated visits.
Just as Geryl rushed to enter again, he stepped on the hem of his skirt and stumbled.
“D**n it…!”
Disgust, self-loathing, and an unavoidable sense of relief, his emotions tangled as he crumpled his skirt in frustration, then ran to the desk. He hadn’t yet found the item he was originally looking for, but right now, this took priority.
He pulled out a small, teardrop-shaped crystal vial from his pocket. He’d found it in Rose’s laundry.
At first, he’d intended to simply return it. But after meeting that man who called himself ‘Lord Moore’ yesterday morning, Rose’s so-called fiancé, Geryl realized where the item came from. After that, he had no choice.
The paper wrapped around the vial’s cap bore a symbol: two whips entwined with a spiral. An ominous crest. Geryl had spent all night searching the study to identify it, but he hadn’t found anything useful.
Could his mother have taken it? No. It wasn’t the sort of object one would carry around lightly. It needed at least a week to be properly packaged. There’s no way she would’ve brought it on a sudden outing.
Geryl yanked open every drawer of the desk, tapped the bottoms, scratched at the sides, hoping for a hidden compartment. Nothing. He let out a choked whimper of fear. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why… why is everyone acting like this?!”
“Rose doesn’t even have a fiancé!”
* * *
Workplace Guidelines
6. If you encounter a man in the mansion referring to himself as ‘Lord Moore,’ immediately enter the nearest room and remain inside until he leaves.
— — —
After my stepbrother stormed off, my so-called fiancé and I moved to the parlor to continue our meal. I wanted to check on my stepbrother, but I figured abandoning my fiancé at the table right now would tank my favorability points, so I decided to visit later.
The pancakes he’d brought were good, but to be honest, I felt like I might get indigestion. He wouldn’t stop asking questions.
They went something like this.
“Rose, do you have any particular taste preferences?”
I told him I liked everything except carrots.
“I see. Then, do you have a favorite color?”
Red, I replied. The question came right after food, and it reminded me of a summer pop hit from a few years back.
“Indeed. May I ask since when you’ve preferred the color red?”
Hmm. Probably since ten days ago when I possessed this body?
Of course, I couldn’t say that, so I gave some vague answer about not being sure, that it must’ve happened at some point. My fiancé kept nodding with a cheerful smile. The questions continued without end: favorite flower, favorite time of day, most disliked place, least favorite…
At first, I thought it was a sign of trying to get close, but by now it felt more like a psychological interrogation. If this were a normal situation, I would’ve asked a bunch of questions back to even the playing field. But feeling guilty about the vial, I just answered everything in detail. Hope this helps recover some favorability points.
“Is there nothing you’re curious about regarding me?”
Ah, here it comes. I lifted my teacup to hide my expression (the tea and cup were both brought by him too). Answering ‘nothing’ would be the wrong choice, but asking something outright could backfire too.
Alright. Based on years of vicarious experience, the correct answer in this situation is:
“I’ve learned the secret behind how this mansion’s garden is so beautiful. I was wondering if you’d be interested in hearing it?”
Yes. A smart reply that combines his interests and our previous topic.
“…”
So why are you pausing, dear fiancé? Why no reaction?
“How did you know?”
“I spoke with the gardener. I asked, and he told me.”
“When did this happen?”
What is this, an interrogation? I resisted the urge to frown and answered. Be grateful for your pretty face, fiancé.
“Last night in the garden. I got lost on the way to the kitchen and happened to run into him.”
“I see.”
He responded almost reflexively.
“Still, I think wandering the garden alone at night is a bit dangerous. If you ever need anything urgently after dark, perhaps you should summon a servant instead?”
“Sure. I’ll do that from now on.”
Summoning a servant in the dead of night sounds like a great way to end up as gossip over tomorrow’s lunch, but I took it as a caring suggestion and gave a noncommittal reply. I’d call if the situation allowed, otherwise, I’d figure it out myself.
But really, you’re not going to ask about the gardening secret? Asking again would seem too desperate, so I just waited. He didn’t bring it up. Instead, he studied my face closely, then smiled and said,
“Well then, I’ll return to my room to take care of some work. I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Sure, sure.”
Now that I think about it, if he’s bringing all three meals, that means I’ll be seeing him three times a day. Getting to see that face three times daily? Jackpot. I pumped my mental fist and replied outwardly with polite concern.
“Aren’t you overexerting yourself? You’re working here and helping me out as well.”
“Oh, that’s quite alright.”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to me. That smile, positively dazzling.
“I always know the most efficient way to do things.”
* * *
“What are you looking for so intently?”
“Ah!”
Geryl dropped the stack of books he was holding. Their corners thudded heavily against the carpeted floor, echoing through the study. The man who called himself ‘Lord Moore’ stood in the doorway, a flawless smile on his face like a painting come to life.
Pale as a sheet, the boy tried to back away from him, but something in his pocket shifted.
Rose’s crystal vial.
That small jolt gave Geryl a sudden burst of resolve. He abruptly turned and glared at the man. The man, beautiful as a masterpiece, tilted his head in faint amusement.
“I asked what you’re looking for.”
“…If you do anything stupid, I, I’ll call the police.”
“Haha.”
The man chuckled. Geryl, tense as a wire, glanced at the phone mounted on the wall. It was a silent warning that he could run and dial at any moment. Lord Moore stopped laughing.
“Are you deaf?”
He walked toward the bookshelf where Geryl stood, trampling papers and books scattered across the floor like they didn’t exist, his steps as sure as if walking a grand avenue. Then he met Geryl’s eyes.
“Go on. Call.”
He stared at the boy like a snake without eyelids.
“I’ll start by chopping off your mother’s hands and feet and throwing her in prison.”
Geryl froze.
“And next, I’ll make her only son crawl in the streets.”
The man smiled wide, a beautiful, jewel-like smile.
“Ah, wait. Was it daughter?”
Madam Zauer’s son couldn’t reply.
Still smiling, Lord Moore slipped his hand into his coat and pulled something out. Geryl flinched as though the man had drawn a gun. But the man, seemingly disinterested in even mocking him, simply placed the object on the desk with a soft clink.
“…”
“Aren’t you going to pick it up? Isn’t that what you were looking for?”
The boy picked up the scroll on the desk with trembling hands. Though it was only a single page of faded paper curled into a roll, it was part of what he had been searching for. Only part, not the whole.
In the end, the boy spat out his words like something he could no longer keep down.
“What did you do with the rest of it? The rest of what you stole?!”
“I gave it away as a gift.”
Rose’s fiancé smiled with a furrow of his brow.
“And watch your words.”
“It wasn’t me who stole it, but your foolish mother.”
……
T/N: I’m really curious about Rose’s background 💭
