18.
Volches was the personal physician to Duke Edenbahir, Lancelot’s own father.
As Lancelot unfolded the note, Anita’s neat handwriting came into view.
A gun? Did she think that would set his mind at ease? It was absurd.
“And the men?”
“I have already dispatched them.”
The clock pointed to 11:00 AM. Two hours had passed since Anita’s train departed, and the next train passing through Buedort would not leave for another four hours.
*Did she hand this over late on purpose? To ensure I could follow, but not interfere.*
A gun and one servant. The two-day duration bothered him, but it wasn’t the main issue.
The real problem was the destination.
“She’s leaving for Buedort so suddenly?”
“Could she have gone to find her father’s mementos?”
“If that were her intention, she would have left long before meeting me. Going now, after several days have passed, is unnatural.”
The reason Anita left for Buedort.
Lancelot slowly retraced the image of Anita as she had appeared over the past few days.
Anita Boellony, whom he had reunited with after two years, had changed, yet she remained the same. The first thought that struck him as he faced her standing in the doorway of the empty bedroom was clear.
She was thin.
Not just thin, but damnably thin. She had been slender to begin with, but over these two years, she had withered away like a dry stick.
At first, he had wanted to ask if the head of the Boellony family had been tormenting her behind his back, starving her intentionally. If that were the case, he almost would have said it was a blessing that she was the only one left.
However, Lancelot had long ago learned how to distinguish between insane thoughts and rational ones through years of social conditioning. It was thanks to the excellent, rigorous efforts of Duke Edenbahir.
When he recalled Anita in her childhood, he had to be even more careful with his words. Although she had developed a bit of backbone as she grew, her true nature could not be ignored. Even though it was a dreadfully annoying and incredibly cumbersome process…
Anita was worth it. A dear friend who had spent ten years by his side. Worth exactly that much.
*Now that I think of it, her behavior at the amusement park was also grating.*
The butterfly-masked magician who had thrust those tawdry roses at her. To think he was actually in Shavalon.
If approaching Anita was his primary goal, he had no intention of just standing by and watching.
“Jill. You said Anita left this note with the doctor?”
“Yes.”
That meant Anita trusted Volches more than anyone else in this mansion. The edge of the note he held crumpled slightly.
Setting aside the fact that she had lied to him, Volches was the private physician to Duke Edenbahir. She shouldn’t have even seen his face more than a few times.
*It seems something happened between the two of them without my knowledge.*
Lancelot unceremoniously crushed Anita’s note.
“Go to Volches and pry out what they talked about. And search around the waste disposal site at Chaliwood For Eden to find out who Anita met and what she did.”
He had tried to respect her privacy as much as possible.
But the fact that she set out on her own immediately after meeting that man kept bothering him.
“Shall I have a ticket for the 3:00 PM train to Buedort prepared? Once you secure the ticket, we can simply adjust the remaining schedule.”
“No. There’s no need.”
Jill seemed slightly surprised by Lancelot’s answer.
“Pardon? But even if you take the 3:00 PM train, you will arrive a full six hours late. If anything untoward were to happen to the young lady…”
“My arriving sooner will not prevent something from happening if it is meant to occur.”
“Of course, but…”
“The appointment with Countess Milena cannot be canceled. Her pride is so great that if I inform her of a cancellation, she’ll certainly make me wait a month for another meeting.”
There is a hierarchy to all things.
Since he had already sent men after Anita, it was right for him to finish the more important work first.
Even as it was, he was facing significant losses by having to delay his two-day schedule to chase after her.
“Even if those curs approach Anita, they won’t dare to touch her. The moment they bring harm to the daughter as they did the father, people will start to take notice. Especially once it becomes known that I am protecting her.”
“…Understood. I will procure a ticket for 9:00 PM, then.”
“Instead, put more men on the 3:00 PM train. Load horses as well, just in case.”
“Yes.”
Leaving Lancelot, who had nodded without further word, Jill stepped out of the bedroom.
*And he told me to show sincerity. To prioritize an appointment with a Countess over Lady Anita.*
It wasn’t that Jill didn’t understand Lancelot’s reasoning. No, he had long grown accustomed to his master’s cold, logical judgments.
The only slight disappointment was this:
*I thought Lady Anita was special to him.*
Technically, she was. She was undeniably special.
However.
*It’s just that even that seems like a thoroughly calculated sort of special.*
They say a person’s true nature never changes until they die.
Perhaps expecting genuine affection from that man was a misguided hope from the very beginning.
It was, indeed, a truly hollow realization.
***
The plains of the southwest, Buedort.
Famous for its livestock industry, Buedort boasted open green meadows and a vast sky the moment one stepped off the train, living up to its reputation.
Anita stepped out of the station—which was awkwardly quiet compared to Shavalon—and walked along a dirt road.
She had arrived after a twenty-hour journey. As she stretched, it felt as if her constricted breath was finally being released.
*I vaguely remember this. I think I’ve been here before.*
Facing the quiet scenery around the Buedort station, the forgotten memories of her childhood seemed to drift to the surface.
She remembered that the Boellony villa was very far from here.
*…It’s a good thing I brought money.*
As she stood in front of the station, blankly looking around, the servant asked.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
“Oh, no. I know the address, but I’m struggling with how to get there. I’ll just have to wait for a carriage.”
And so, they waited endlessly for a carriage.
Ten minutes, twenty, thirty… after more than an hour had passed, Anita realized something was wrong.
*Why aren’t any carriages coming? Aren’t there usually many coachmen around a station?*
She knew it was the countryside, so she hadn’t even hoped for a steam car. But in the hour that had passed, only three private carriages had gone by. And even those were just cargo wagons filled with livestock feed or manure.
When Anita confirmed that the fourth wagon was also a cargo wagon, she decided to change her approach.
She would just take that wagon if she had to.
Anita ran up to a man who looked like a farmer.
“Excuse me, if it’s not too much trouble, could we catch a ride on your wagon? No matter how long I wait, no rental carriage appears.”
The farmer, who had looked back and forth between her and the servant, gave a small exclamation.
“A couple from the city, are you? Lucky to have such a pretty wife. But what a shame… some madman burned all the carriages in this district a few days ago, so they’re hard to come by.”
An arson attack on the carriages. It would be hard to be unluckier than this.
“We have enough money to rent a carriage. Is there any way we can get to this address?”
The farmer seemed tempted by the mention of money, but after checking the address Anita showed him, his expression turned ambiguous.
“Hmm. I haven’t been settled here long… even if you tell me the address, I’m not sure I know it.”
Just as she was thinking it was a case of one misfortune after another, the servant standing next to her pointed toward the western hill.
“It’s in that direction.”
“…Oh? Then we’re headed the same way. We can start right now. Get on.”
Ah, what a relief.
Anita and the servant squeezed into the back of the wagon, which was filled with empty milk bottles.
“Thank you for helping us get moving. By the way, have you been to Buedort before? I was surprised you knew the address.”
The servant nodded with a sheepish look.
“Yes. My grandmother used to live around here. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back.”
“What a surprising coincidence.”
The coincidence of all the carriages being burned down was not pleasant, but the coincidence that the servant had ties to Buedort was truly welcome.
After traveling for nearly twenty minutes, they got off the cargo wagon and proceeded on foot.
Thanks to the servant having a general grasp of the mansion’s location, they arrived with ease.
“I believe this is it.”