47.
I felt as though I could have guessed the rest of the story, even without hearing it.
“I filed a lawsuit against Baron Norbert. However, the charges were dismissed due to lack of evidence. Shortly after, the rent for my office and residence nearly quadrupled, and every night, I began receiving death threats from unknown individuals. It was pure hell… My wife even developed a severe illness she had never suffered before. I used this as grounds to sue Baron Norbert once again, but…”
Presumably, he had gained nothing from it.
He showed Anita a tattered letter he had retrieved along with the tea tray.
‘Count Malisgo?’
The name sounded familiar—wasn’t he the Grand Duchess’s cousin?
Lancelot, too, seemed to have spotted the name, his eyes fixed steadily on the end of the letter.
“Three of the four witnesses I found were nobles, and all of them rejected my plea for help. Only one man, an elderly neighbor of mine at the time, readily promised to be a witness, having seen the perpetrators… but on the day of the trial, he was found as a cold corpse.”
He took the letter from Count Malisgo back, his voice parched.
“The cause of death was ruled suicide. A man who was meant to attend his grandchild’s wedding the day after tomorrow, committing suicide? Yet, it was finalized as such. The inspector didn’t even give me a chance to clear the old man’s name….”
With a short sigh, George scanned the room slowly and spoke.
“That is how I ended up here, fleeing in desperation after giving up on everything. Against the high and mighty, hard work alone accomplishes nothing. Truly, nothing at all.”
“Did you meet my father after that?”
“Yes, that is correct. When the future looked pitch-black due to my wife’s illness, it was Mr. Boellony who readily offered his help.”
George’s face brightened slightly as he spoke her father’s name.
“Actually, I had fled so hastily that I couldn’t properly gather my household belongings….”
The account George gave of that time was as follows.
One day, while he was grieving the loss of his daughter’s paintings, her father suddenly appeared before him and said:
[Ah, I’m glad to see you’re living somewhere not too far away. I’ve been searching for quite a while.]
[Who are you?]
[Are you Mr. George Pager? I have heard of your circumstances. I heard you were driven out after losing a talented child.]
Because her father was a dapper gentleman, a sight rarely seen in those parts, George had initially taken him for a henchman of Baron Norbert or a swindler.
[If you’ve come to mock me, leave at once!]
[I have not come to mock you. Here, these are the items you left behind. I also found some paintings that appear to be your daughter’s work.]
Her father’s claim was not a lie. In the backseat of a sleek city steam-carriage, his familiar belongings were neatly packed away.
[You did this…?]
[I believe Mr. George Pager’s claim. The claim that Baron Norbert and Count Malisgo conspired to disguise your daughter’s death as an accident. If you are willing, could you tell me the full details?]
[How laughable. On what grounds should I trust you and open my mouth? I lost my daughter to that incident and am on the verge of losing my wife! Get out of here!]
[I have a daughter, so I understand your sorrow. I have brought a doctor to help treat your wife, so please, let her be examined first.]
[…No doctor in Hixen will help me, I’m sure of it.]
[This doctor was brought from Shavalon. He is a person unaffected by any threats within Hixen.]
[…….]
[Be rational, Mr. Pager. Living in this dilapidated house, far from the city, it would not be difficult to harm you. Even without mobilizing a doctor from Shavalon.]
As her father had said, for George, his wife’s treatment was more urgent than anything else.
The doctor could not identify the specific illness, but advised that it was a condition often found in those who have suffered great mental trauma, and that a full recovery would take a long time.
Still, hearing that it was not terminal, George felt a weight lift, though he could not help but ask about her father’s identity.
[Why are you showing us such kindness? And why are you digging into this case?]
[What I need are the pieces of evidence you have compiled, and as for my reasons, I cannot say right now.]
[…Did you also lose your family to Baron Norbert?]
[That, too, I cannot disclose. In the not-so-distant future, I will need your help… can you promise to help me?]
George said he caught a faint flash of resolve in her father’s eyes back then.
Having lost his own daughter, he could not refuse the father’s request. Even knowing that he might be walking the same path of ruin as himself.
[Until our promise is realized, the doctor will continue to care for your wife.]
[Thank you. Once we regain our stability, I want to repay this debt. May I have your contact information?]
[My name is Vincent Boellony. But you must never contact me first. It could put your life and your wife’s life in danger. If anyone asks about me, pretend you do not know. Until I come to find you again….]
With those final words, her father left the house.
Taking the warning seriously, George never investigated ‘Vincent Boellony’ as he had been told. He merely engraved her father’s name deep in his heart, so that he would never forget.
“So, what kind of help did my father request?”
To Anita’s question, George slowly shook his head.
“I do not know, either. It was only recently, through the Duchess, that I heard news of Mr. Boellony for the first time since that meeting six years ago. To think such a tragic turn of events had occurred in the meantime….”
The warning not to contact him. And the promise of future assistance.
‘It fits the current situation too perfectly to be a coincidence.’
That meant her father had foreseen today’s events from six years ago.
‘What could my father have been planning to ask of Mr. George?’
Was it because Count Malisgo, the Grand Duchess’s cousin, was involved? If she dug just a little deeper, it felt as though she might encounter a new truth.
Calmly organizing her thoughts, Anita steadied herself and looked at George.
“Mr. George, this may be sudden, but could you help me in my father’s place?”
“My help, you say?”
“Would you work at Edenbahir? I would like you to become the estate manager for my family.”
George looked stunned, as if he had heard something unthinkable.
“Pardon? Are you speaking of the position of estate manager at Edenbahir?”
“I didn’t intend to snoop… but I noticed you have quite a collection of professional accounting books on your shelf. As it happens, our family has been looking for an estate manager. Since you are someone who practiced law, I thought there might be good synergy if you handled the related duties.”
Along with her explanation, she glanced briefly at Lancelot.
He did not show any signs of dissatisfaction at Anita’s sudden proposal.
For a family possessing astronomical wealth like Edenbahir, at least two estate managers were necessary. He might have been thinking that as long as it wasn’t one of the Grand Duchess’s people, it didn’t matter who held one of those seats.
‘And above all…. Mr. George Pager’s abilities are too valuable to be left to rot here.’
Law and accounting. Talents who have studied both are rare.
Even if the latter lacked practical experience, that wouldn’t be a major issue.
George, looking noticeably flustered, rubbed both palms against his trousers.
“Haha, how could I ever take on such a great task? I am grateful that you hold my potential in high regard, but… I am absolutely not the person for it. I have only read a few books, that is all.”
“Mr. George.”
“Also, I am the only one who can care for my sick wife… and I have things I must do… I will find a way to repay the kindness I received from Mr. Boellony, even if it is through the Duchess….”
As if reciting excuses, George stuttered, bowing his head in supplication.
“…Please, do not put me in a difficult position.”
Seeing his slumped shoulders made Anita’s heart ache.
It seemed George was chained to this space forever.
The pain of losing a daughter. The fear of potentially losing his wife. The terror toward the society that had abandoned him had become heavy iron chains shackling him.
Anita smiled bitterly.
“It is a pity, but I understand. Still, please come to the estate at least once. I believe I happen to have a few of your daughter’s paintings.”
At those words, George snapped his head up.
“My daughter’s paintings, you say?”