Chapter 122
Gunfire
Edgar drew a revolver from the holster attached to his waist. The lamp’s light slid coldly along the sleek barrel. The metallic click of the cylinder turning echoed eerily through the quiet study. After checking the magazine, Edgar slid the revolver back into the holster.
Gerald, who had been silently watching the sequence of actions, finally spoke with difficulty.
“Master.”
“Yes, Gerald.”
Edgar turned to the silent Gerald. Only when their eyes met did Gerald cautiously speak his mind.
“This… method. I don’t think it’s right.”
“I know,” Edgar replied surprisingly calmly.
“Then why—?”
“I want it. Even like this.”
Edgar’s gaze, casual yet intense, fell on the picture frame. The woman in the photograph smiled, looking only at him. That was the most beautiful, radiant moment of his life.
If he could, he would rewind time to the day when Olivia had only him. But since he could not, Edgar resolved once again to become her sole savior. Even if it was through a lowly method, it did not matter. After all, he had already become that kind of man.
Stepping out into the waiting area, a thin mist cloaked the harbor like a veil. The wind blowing over the night sea carried the sharp tang of salt. The air was slightly cool, and Olivia adjusted her shawl with one hand.
“I think we should have a simple dinner, miss.”
“Let’s do that, Ann.”
Olivia walked side by side with Ann, staring across the bustling pier. Large cruise ships and steamers glowed with lights that floated above the night sea like stars.
Amid the fleeting nightscape of Litten Harbor, a familiar name caught Olivia’s eye: Nostalgia. It was written on the boarding pass.
Olivia gripped the handle of her trunk tightly. A mix of fear and anticipation made her breath quicken. The reality that they would soon depart finally sank in.
Olivia and Ann headed toward the back alleys of Litten Harbor, where restaurants lined the streets. The narrow, web-like alleys were dominated by cheap inns and taverns. Occasionally, eateries and teahouses operated along the main streets.
Since these places mainly served commoners taking the inexpensive night ferries, perfect hygiene was hard to expect. A sour smell of beer stung the nose as the wind blew from the alley entrance. Even from a distance, it did not look like there were places suitable for two ladies to dine at this hour.
“How about over there, miss?” Ann pointed to a small outdoor café.
“Good, Ann.”
Under the yellow awning fluttering in the sea breeze, a few customers sipped tea. Olivia and Ann took a vacant table. Soon, their chicken pie and strong coffee arrived. The thick, well-baked pie looked crisp on top. The aroma of butter and spices teased their stomachs.
As they cut into the pie, white steam rose, revealing minced meat, carrots, and potatoes inside. Their eyes sparkled, despite having low expectations. Their last meal in Litten was simple but excellent.
After paying, Olivia and Ann rose from the table. It was time to board. They retraced their steps toward the pier. As the night deepened, the once-busy harbor grew quiet.
As they discussed Nostia while rounding a corner along the main road adjacent to the back alley, the clouds hid the moon, plunging the area into darkness. Suddenly, a shadow leapt out from a side street.
“Eek!”
Olivia and Ann’s screams pierced the night sky of Litten Harbor. Passersby stopped and stared. Only after the moonlight broke through the clouds did a meowing sound come from the empty barrels scattered across the cobblestones. A black stray cat, with yellow eyes, stared at them for a moment before scampering away.
“Ann, calm down. It’s just a cat.”
“I thought my heart stopped, miss.”
The two ladies laughed nervously as they picked up their trunk and handbag. Just as they were about to continue, another shadow suddenly appeared in the alley. Without time to scream, it dashed forward. The figure pushed Ann hard, darted between them, snatched Olivia’s handbag, and ran deeper into the alley. It all happened in the blink of an eye.
“A-a pickpocket!”
Ann, who had fallen on her rear, tried to stand but collapsed again. Pain shot through her ankle. By the time she looked up, Olivia was already chasing the boy thief.
“Miss!” Ann’s cry echoed through the empty alley. Olivia vanished into the darkness, her urgent footsteps breaking the calm of the autumn night.
Johann held a letter in his hand. Leslie Blanchett. Unbelievably, it was a letter sent by Olivia’s uncle to the Leopold Hotel. The man, who had fled with his family after ruining his business, had shamelessly resurfaced. It seemed the newspapers covering him and Olivia’s photos had reached even his hiding spot.
The letter was simple: watch Olivia carefully, as there were talks of her remarrying into the Chase family. In short, if the old man—approaching sixty—wanted her, he could pay and take her back. Ridiculous, but in Rondos, male guardians controlled women’s rights.
Johann took a cigar from a glossy chest and stood by the window, passing the dinner table. Beyond the open window lay only the vast darkness.
He would return to Rondos to start anew—but first, there was a troublesome matter to handle. Glancing at his wristwatch, he frowned. It was just past seven. Exhaling a long plume of smoke, Johann waited. Normally, boarding would be completed by now, yet no report had come in.
He twisted his wrist slightly: 7:10. Johann smoked slowly, waiting until his set limit. Time passed as smoke drifted with the wind from the sea. His gaze fell to his Patek “New Watch”: 7:25. Cold and calm, his eyes fixed on the golden hands.
There was no reason for such a delay—unless someone had changed their mind, discovered the plan, or something had gone wrong. Confident in his judgment, Johann turned from the window and strode across the cabin to the call bell on his desk.
The moment he pressed it, there was a knock. Maurice.
“They haven’t boarded yet.”
“Why not?” Johann asked, low.
“…They got lost in the back alleys of the pier. Drunks spilled out, and things got tangled for a while.”
Johann’s gaze darkened. Habitually, he checked the time. 7:30.
“Find them immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
Maurice stiffly bowed and turned—but at that moment, a foreboding instinct struck Johann. Beyond the window came a gunshot. Distant, yet sharp and clear. Instinctively, Johann’s head snapped toward the sound.
Edgar’s carriage had stopped at the entrance to the pier’s back alley, the most secluded and remote among the labyrinthine streets. Soon, Olivia, lured by the pickpocket boy, would appear. Actors waiting nearby would threaten her. At the critical moment, Edgar would intervene and rescue Olivia—and get shot. It was a dirty, childish, but thrilling plan.
Edgar pulled a revolver from the holster inside his jacket. He checked the cylinder with a click and returned it to the holster.
Do not touch the woman. Do not harm her.
Although there should be no need to use it, precautions were always necessary. Edgar rolled up his shirt sleeve and checked the time. 7:30. She should be coming soon.
Staring into the darkness of the alley beyond the carriage window, Edgar lit a cigarette. As he leisurely exhaled the smoke, a gunshot split the night sky sharply. The cigarette slipped from his fingers. Edgar’s face froze instantly.
Olivia.
It was an unexpected turn—not in the script.
“Damn it.”
Cursing under his breath, Edgar jumped from the carriage and sprinted into the back alley of Litten Harbor.
