48.
“Yes. I was certain when I saw the unique depiction of the mist in each painting. They are definitely your daughter’s works. A painting of the city at dawn surrounded by gray mist, one depicting the history of Hixen, and another of city women. There were three in total.”
“Those are the paintings my daughter drew for the entrance exam at the De Muncel school! You don’t mean to say you have all, all three of them?”
“No, I only have one in my possession right now. The other two….”
“The Grand Duchess Edenbahir would know about the other two.”
Anita and George’s gazes turned to one place.
Lancelot, who had spoken for the first time since stepping into the mansion, had his eyes fixed on a painting hanging on the wall opposite them.
“The Grand Duchess is the very person who blinded herself with greed for the investment management rights of the Callasgo Trust and bankrupted the Boellony family. There is a high probability that she possesses every single grain of the Boellony family’s assets. It may even contain the evidence needed to seize those investment management rights.”
George’s expression sank heavily, like a branch caught in a downpour.
It was impossible to think that George, who surely would have read every newspaper he could get his hands on before meeting her, did not know about the Callasgo Trust. Anita comforted George.
“Please, don’t worry. I have no intention of letting the Grand Duchess keep my father’s belongings. I will make sure to get your daughter’s things back as well.”
“No, you mustn’t. Considering all the help my wife and I received from Mr. Boellony… we cannot possibly accept help from his daughter, the Duchess….”
“Then, what about accepting help from Anita?”
A cold gaze bore into George. It was a look that didn’t feel even remotely favorable, making Anita feel slightly bewildered.
“Who are you?”
Lancelot’s presence was clearly grating on George as well.
“I know at least that you are not the Duchess’s cousin. If one has eyes in one’s head, it’s hard not to be suspicious.”
Anita felt a prick of anxiety inwardly.
*Ah, right. I checked all the newspapers the day before….*
He wouldn’t be able to avoid recognizing the face of the Duke Edenbahir.
Lancelot replied with a blank expression.
“Are you so well-informed about everything? Then you must know this, too. Why Anita married me.”
His long fingers interlocked and rested on his crossed leg.
He had not touched his black tea even once.
“Do you think your wife’s life was saved by a stroke of lucky benevolence?”
Anita began to feel uneasy.
“Lancelot.”
“Anita came here because of the last will of the late Lord Boellony. And yet, this pitiable Mr. George Pager here, despite having received the grace of Lord Boellony, is trying to receive yet another favor from his daughter.”
“Wait, Lancelot. Words like that….”
“Words like what? Which words? If I hadn’t followed you, you would have sympathized with this man’s situation and returned home burdened with the task of even retrieving the keepsakes of a dead daughter. Just like your father, you would simply offer your goodwill and stop there. Because you sympathize with those in similar circumstances.”
He was right, but she had to say that those words were wrong.
Looking into Lancelot’s icy eyes, however, she couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth.
“Even after my wife lost her father to the hands of filthy nobles… she gives her all, even putting herself on the line with me, to recover those keepsakes and take revenge.”
“…….”
“Meanwhile, someone else, with you right in front of them, doesn’t stop at pouring out a personal history steeped in all sorts of pity and self-loathing. You sit there quietly, watching both father and daughter enjoy the benefits, even while knowing you’re in the exact same plight. Is this not an unfair state of affairs?”
Just as a heavy silence settled between them.
Thud.
There was a sound of something collapsing near the stairs.
Turning her head, Anita saw a frail, middle-aged woman sitting at the foot of the stairs, leaning on a wooden cane.
“…Honey?”
Huff, huff. Gasping for air, the middle-aged woman ignored George’s call and stood before Anita.
Her gaze held a strong sense of resolve that was difficult to describe, and Anita calmed her startled heart to look up at her.
“Duchess.”
The woman knelt before Anita and bowed her head to the floor.
“My lady, Duchess! I am that man’s wife. Please, I beg you, take him with you!”
A shocked George ran to the woman’s side, trying to lift her up by the shoulders.
“Honey! What are you doing? You’re not even in good health, how did you make it all the way down here….”
Slap.
With a weak sound of friction, George’s cheek turned to the side. The woman parted her lips, her voice small but firm.
“I’ve been misjudging you all this time, George. With the daughter of our benefactor right in front of you, is that really all you could say?”
Then, she bowed her head to Anita again.
“Duchess, I implore you. Please take my husband. Give him work. Even if it’s cleaning horse manure in the stables, that would suffice. Please, let him escape this mud and see the light of the world once more.”
Bright sleeves, faded fabric. The clothes the couple wore were frayed beyond description.
How hard must their struggle for survival have been?
“Honey….”
“He is a man who was buried in an anthill of a house, endlessly calculating numbers to care for his sick wife. But as his wife, I know better than anyone how brilliant my husband is.”
“Honey, stop it.”
“As you said, my lady, my husband has been studying diligently without missing a single day for the past several years. As an uneducated woman, I cannot say exactly what books he has been reading, but there is no doubt it was the accounting and property-related studies you mentioned. The only reason my husband couldn’t step out into the world was simply….”
The woman swallowed hard.
Her voice, which had sounded slightly rough, rang out clearly once more.
“Simply because… there was no one to lead him out of the world, a man who had withered like a child after enduring such storms.”
George slumped down beside his wife and let out a sound like a scream.
“What are you talking about! Where are you going? If I leave for Shavalon, you will be here all alone….”
“If the Duchess doesn’t take my husband, he will rot here for the rest of his life. He will become a living ghost, trapped by the specters of a dead daughter and a dying wife. Please, take him away!”
Anita, having slowly regained her composure, was just about to choose the right words.
Lancelot, who had been sitting beside her, opened his mouth with a demeanor more matter-of-fact than ever.
“I will provide a house in Shavalon. And a doctor to care for your wife.”
The woman looked up at Lancelot cautiously.
Lancelot met her gaze and asked.
“Did you say Baron Norbert and Count Malisgo?”
“…Yes. That is correct.”
“I will ensure you can meet them again in Shavalon. Is there anything else you need to bring you two?”
The woman closed her mouth. Then she looked at George.
“George.”
Her voice was tender and soft, entirely devoid of the previous firmness, coaxing him.
“Please, do not refuse. Liese would want this, too.”
Was Liese the name of their dead daughter?
George’s eyes were filled with a great confusion he hadn’t shown before. Defeated by the mere mention of the name Liese, he bowed his head like a child who had been severely scolded.
Then, with a voice drained of all energy, he sighed.
“…Books.”
The words that followed carried a faint trace of will.
“To manage the assets of a grand family like Edenbahir, I need more books to study. Please, provide the books.”
“That is no problem. I will send someone within the week. Have your tasks organized by then. Anita?”
Lancelot stood up abruptly from his chair and looked down at her.
“Let us go.”
“Oh, yes. I understand what courage you’ve found. Thank you so much for granting my request, Mr. George.”
George, who had been sitting on the floor, stood up slowly while helping his wife.
“…It is nothing. The one who deserves gratitude is the Duchess. I will not disappoint you. Please, trust me.”
Just as they were about to leave the mansion, receiving endless gratitude, Anita belatedly remembered an important matter.
“Ah! I almost forgot why I came here. Mr. George, did you perhaps receive anything from my father?”
George asked back with a puzzled expression.
“Are you referring to my wife’s medical expenses?”
“No. A seal, a document… anything like that would do.”
The woman, who had been listening quietly, turned her back slowly.
The woman entered the kitchen at a very leisurely pace, but George did not stop her. Anita, too, waited silently without urging her, even though the woman’s movements were a bit slow.
The item she brought back after disappearing was.
“This is….”
It was an old, faded golden key.
“This is the key Mr. Boellony left behind. It is definitely his. Apart from the doctor, Vincent Boellony was the first and last guest this house ever had.”
At the woman’s words, George nodded a beat late.
“Ah, that’s right. There was this item. I kept it, just in case. Duchess, is this the correct item?”
Anita examined the key before answering.
The design was somehow not unfamiliar. The text written on the key’s worn leather tag was as follows:
*…Where have I seen a similar phrase?*
Wasn’t something similar written on the envelope that Volches, the former doctor of the Edenbahir family, handed over at the request of an unidentified assailant? Surely….
[Chaliwood For Eden – Storage Green 136]
Yes, that was the record.
Anita gripped the key slowly and said.
“This is the correct item. Thank you.”
“Ah, that is a relief.”
This key was different from the fake key that Volches had handed over.
This was the ‘real’ key that her father had passed on to her through George. A real clue that might help her find traces related to her father’s disappearance.
Anita’s heart began to beat rapidly.