IJNSTH 11

11

Provocation

“They say she sat in that chair all night until the plainclothes officers arrived at dawn.”

The place Edmund went to after Icarus’s report was not unfamiliar at all.

A familiar chair.

The river, cold and merciless, glimmered with the same light and flowed relentlessly. The magnificent drawbridge lay open in the distance. This was the place where Vivienne had said her farewell to him a year ago.

Edmund scanned the chair like a predator searching for traces of Vivienne. As expected, something lay on the floor. He picked it up and sat in exactly the same position as a year ago.

What he held in his hand were five charred photographs. Judging from the half-burned matches scattered on the ground, it wasn’t hard to guess how they had been set alight.

The multiple matches suggested either that lighting them required great resolve—or that someone had been so absent-minded they had to try multiple times. One could almost imagine him copying what had been done to Cynthia Eastwell’s photograph.

The photos were so badly burned that restoration seemed nearly impossible. Edmund had a guess why the plainclothes officers, who would have discovered this first, had left them behind.

“Good day. We’re from the CID of the Central Bureau. I am Detective Sergeant Brandon McBurn. This is my partner, Detective Constable William…”

Detective Sergeant.

The “Detective” prefix indicated both rank and department. Their job primarily involved arresting criminals in plainclothes on the scene, and foreign members of his organization sometimes referred to them as “detectives,” just as they would back home.

Edmund glanced once at the arrest warrant the officer handed him, then once at the officer’s face.

“Oh… pardon me. I didn’t realize you were the son of His Excellency the Prime Minister.”

The moment they realized who he was, their stiff demeanor softened.

The Prime Minister had been re-elected with the promise of cracking down on criminal syndicates and reforming the police force that colluded with them. For these officers, his father was probably the most formidable opponent.

“No, it’s fine. May I ask your business?”

Edmund asked with a friendly expression, and the detective explained.

“Ah… nothing serious. We were conducting surveillance because this is the last place where Lady Mergebille—a prime suspect in the Coleman Street car bombing—was seen. We were waiting to see if anyone would show up.”

“Prime suspect, you say?”

Edmund cast another glance at the arrest warrant.

“Judging by the warrant, it seems you intended to investigate her as a suspect, not just as a person of interest. Am I correct?”

“We didn’t know you were acquainted with her, Your Excellency.”

“Well… would it have been different if I did know her?”

“….”

“You keep speaking as if it would have.”

The two officers forced uneasy smiles, trying to mask their discomfort while projecting a sense of camaraderie.

It was Edmund who broke the awkward silence.

“I arrived yesterday to see my father in the Duchy.”

“Ah, we knew. Such visits are quite rare, apparently.”

“Yes. The drawbridge here is a local landmark, so I was taking a walk when I noticed something under this bench.”

Edmund showed them a ring he held alongside the photographs.

The red gemstone, cut in a fair style, appeared ruby-like at first glance due to its size—but it was a diamond.

“It seemed valuable, so I considered leaving it at the office. But now that I know the owner, that’s fortunate.”

The two detectives alternated their gaze between the ring and the composed Edmund. Detective Sergeant McBurn spoke.

“So you’re saying you were walking, saw this jewel sparkling under the bench, and sat down to pick it up?”

“Yes. The owner of the ring is well-known, so there’s no way the officers would not have known whether it reached its rightful owner. Incidentally, I am scheduled to attend Lady Mergebille’s engagement party in two weeks.”

“….”

“….”

“May I return it directly?”

Though they asked for permission, the officers already knew the answer. They understood that seizing lost property could count as misappropriation. Edmund, of course, also understood this. That he still asked meant he wanted to do it.

“Seizing it as part of a suspect’s belongings is the proper procedure…”

“William, I am speaking with Count Colt here.”

Edmund silently watched as one officer gently pushed the other aside. The lead detective continued.

“Your Excellency, I understand, but surely you are aware how strictly your father, the Prime Minister, observes procedure.”

“I am aware.”

“Yet you still said what you did… It seems there must be a special reason you need the ring.”

“I believe he has delivered his New Year’s addresses on both matters—eradicating criminal syndicates and police reform. What I just mentioned falls under the former.”

“If the officers would allow it, I’ll ensure nothing draws my father’s attention. If it does, I’ll explain it.”

“Ah, I see. Had you said so earlier… Very well. Proceed as you wish.”

Edmund looked at the detective constable standing behind the speaking officer. His expression suggested he had much to say, but he barely masked his caution under Edmund’s gaze.

His eyes were sharp and proper. Had it been his father, he might have valued that more—but Edmund had no interest in either of them.

“What are you doing, you fool? Count’s entering—show some respect.”

The constable, who looked as if he had stood rigid his whole life, lowered his head under his partner’s force, facing Edmund.

“That’s overly gracious.”

Edmund smiled and turned away, clutching the ring tightly, heading toward the saloon where his car was parked.

❖ ❖ ❖

The Colt family driver took Edmund to the Royal Suite at the Salenner Hotel. He was his father’s man but not an annoyance. His actions would reveal his father’s intentions.

He hadn’t pried unnecessarily yet, but he could wait until Edmund revealed his true thoughts. For now, he could wait—he had no desire to have the ring taken from him.

Entering the hotel room in that sharp silence, an inexplicable thirst crept over him, crawling up his shoulders. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Edmund walked to the bed and leaned against the headboard. The whiskey bottles that had been on the distant table were gone; the ashtray was clean. Space had been cleared, but now neither cigars nor liquor tempted him.

Though brief, he had spent a dawn without her.

Yesterday, in another room at the Salenner Hotel, he had met the branch chief of the Duchy directly, issued orders, and seen them executed smoothly.

Within hours, five photographs were delivered via his own people working as the hotel’s housekeepers. Edmund left a note on the back of the third photo and thought: The “fake agent” I played dies here.

He had deliberately left the message ambiguous, partly hoping she would deduce his identity. That she would recognize even his true self… a small opening was left.

She had apparently trembled when viewing the photograph. Hoping she would come after discovering it was his doing had been excessive—but hearing her measured reaction about the agent reinforced that deciding to kill her was the right choice.

Her world and his could not coexist.

He had not forgotten, and thus killing her with his own hands brought satisfaction. If that pitiful breath had been extinguished under his command, even if not the first, he had wholly claimed the last.

Now, no one could take her away, and he would not have to worry about her safety, nor be distracted by her presence. By removing the possibility of entanglement, it no longer mattered.

She was like the others he had dealt with—special only in that she had been particular this time.

He would no longer engage in such madness, nor draw his father’s attention unnecessarily.

It was rational.

Edmund rotated the ring in his hand.

He could hardly recall how the previous dawn had passed. The hammered-down pistol lay not far off.

How had he looked at it?

Not in despair. Not in anger. But blood had boiled at the thought of pursuing her. A precious fugitive, taken to an untouchable sanctuary, a prey who had once harbored a crush on him. He remembered her hand brushing his cheek. Her departing figure. The engagement party news carried even to distant places. Even the New Year’s celebration.

He could not release her so easily; she must be hidden as much as possible.

Yet, he imagined—even if she wore whatever dress at the engagement announcement—tearing it, and finding solace in how filthy her soft lips had become. Perhaps that would ease him.

Edmund smoked out of habit.

Alive. Hearing that left all prior feelings hollow. All for what? Just for the trivial chance of sex, he had pursued her to extremes.

Yet alive… the smoky haze blurred his vision.

No more childish antics.

She would never love him, as when he came to save her. She would not cry across a wall nor willingly cling to him. That once-adorable face would now carry contempt. What could trembling legs possibly yield? Only foolish thoughts fit for a Rex’s child, he thought.

When he stubbed out his cigarette, the phone rang. He raised the receiver.

• “This is the executive housekeeper in charge of Your Excellency. Were you satisfied with the service?”

“…I want to speak with the person in charge.”

After a pause, a professional voice replied.

• “I’ll connect you shortly. Please hold.”

As Edmund prepared to light another cigarette, the phone clicked.

• “I don’t know why you gambled, but as I’ve repeatedly told you, there’s a risk of being tapped during the day. Even if we have people at the telegraph office, you must never become complacent.”

“Icarus.”

Edmund’s voice was rough, tinged with fatigue.

• “Yes?”

“How’s the matter being handled?”

• “I thought the only way was through the Rex family to send evidence on the murder of the Public Security Inspector’s son. This opportunity will empower the chairman. Since the Rex’s second son is on our side, we plan to pressure the Metropolitan Police and extract Lady Mergebille.”

“Using Ludwig Rex as a pawn… Do they really think that’s at the chairman’s level?”

• “Among options that don’t break organizational rules, it’s the best. If you are disappointed, I cannot help it—but the Carolina Russella matter was handled cleanly.”

“Didn’t you also collect photos of the Rex second son entering my government villa?”

• “Yes.”

“Give the Public Security Inspector a weapon.”

• “Wouldn’t the other side be upset if we expelled a subordinate just for a woman?”

“….”

• “Up to now, the boss’s family never rebelled even under harsh punishment because they recognized the boss’s fairness. Such respect has held the system together and made young men blindly loyal. Making exceptions for subordinates would be reckless. Who do you think punished the Bekaloni household?”

“You overuse your privilege of speaking frankly too well, Icarus.”

He had created a world growing in reverse to the order of society. Breaking the old rules, yet his code of conduct was seen as virtuous.

In that world, he was the law and the judge, so partiality was forbidden. Only the worshiped could act.

Yet.

Yet, I…

• “If anyone asks, say the Rex chairman matter was revenge for Watkins. She lured Carolina Russella and her followers—it’s true.”

• …….

• “Since Rex also embarrassed the actress with the second son’s odd tastes, we should vindicate Watkins. That alone gives justification to empower the police and check the chairman. Must I manage even this?”

• “Why complicate matters? We’ll quietly extract Lady Mergebille to the boss’s residence. Officially it’s for Watkins, but really it’s for Lady Mergebille.”

“Now I’ll play pimp… Which side is breaking the rules?”

• “If your goal is to lure her, you will fail. She’s too good, too noble. Besides, she isn’t worth that much.”

Her pleading in a daze was quite valuable, though. Edmund licked his lips.

• “Once you give the order, I will make sure Lady Mergebille dies.”

“You once said: impatience ruins even what would succeed. Since when have you been so rash, Icarus? Could you not even keep your own word?”

• “I will correct that.”

Edmund hung up.

Silence returned, followed naturally by an intense thirst: recklessness, longing, desire, contradiction. Alone, he now recognized his old companion: the mad hunger for the woman who desired him. Edmund imagined the scent of her skin.

Linus Mergebille.