11.
The paintings in the gilded frames were displayed in a variety of sizes, ranging from those half the height of a person to canvases large enough to fill an entire towering wall.
Perhaps because the salon exhibition had garnered word-of-mouth fame—just as Madam Pernel had suggested—the hall was bustling. Even so, the overall atmosphere remained hushed.
Among the heavily adorned nobles and bourgeois, Milla could not even breathe deeply, stepping carefully as she viewed the works.
Freya, who had already seen this exhibition once, strolled past the masterpieces as if out for a walk before stopping in front of one particular piece.
“Oh, I know this one.”
Milla, who had stopped following Freya, whispered softly from her side.
“It’s ‘The Punishment of Aegis,’ right?”
“That’s right. You know your paintings well.”
At Freya’s praise, Milla smiled bashfully before asking with a slightly puzzled expression.
“Do you like this painting, Madam?”
“…Yes. I do.”
Freya answered a beat late, staring intently at the man in the painting.
The naked man was carrying a boulder the size of his own body up a hill. Once he reached the peak, the rock would surely tumble back down. Then, he would return to the base and repeat the labor of hauling the rock up the hill once again. That was the punishment given to the man who had been condemned to hell for inciting the wrath of the gods.
Milla, studying the masterpiece closely, spoke up as if hesitating.
“But this painting… something is strange.”
“What is?”
“The end of the hill is a cliff. And this cliff landscape looks somehow familiar… Ah!”
Milla let out a sudden gasp. Surprised by her own voice, she covered her mouth with both hands and glanced around before leaning toward Freya to whisper.
“This cliff, it looks just like the one near Blanc Castle.”
“You’re right. Perhaps the artist has visited Blanc Castle.”
After gazing at the painting for a while, Freya returned to the building’s entrance and bought a salon pamphlet from the organizers, declaring her intention to purchase the work.
The artist’s name listed in the pamphlet was Mr. Maxence Flamen. Milla, who was looking at the pamphlet alongside her, muttered.
“That painter is quite lucky. He caught your eye, Madam, simply by painting that cliff.”
In truth, the reason her eyes had been drawn to the work initially wasn’t because of the cliff, but because of the theme: ‘The Punishment of Aegis.’ However, Freya did not correct Milla’s assumption.
By the time they left the palace, the sun was already beginning to sink into the western sky.
The carriage carrying the two women traveled further north from the center of Luthes. It came to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alley below Martre Hill.
In front of the two women who stepped out of the carriage stood a boutique built of red brick. On the boutique’s sign, ‘Madame Fernelle’ was written in white letters.
“Madam, are you not tired?”
“I’m fine. How about you, Milla?”
“I’m not tired either.”
The two women, who had spent the entire day visiting various places, entered the boutique while chatting amiably.
The carriage that had dropped them off moved to the main road so as not to obstruct traffic.
Just like that, the alleyway emptied of people again. A short while later, a shared carriage, commonly seen in Luthes with the word ‘OMNIBUS’ written in large letters on its side, stopped at the entrance of the alley.
The driver climbed down, walked into the alley, and confirmed the boutique’s sign.
After pacing for a moment, the driver moved the omnibus to a main road a short distance away, folded his arms, and settled into a comfortable position.
As time passed, the crimson sunset settled over the alley, and before long, the lamplighter made his rounds, lighting the gas lamps installed at the mouth of the passage.
As the surroundings were buried in darkness, someone emerged from the boutique. The driver, who had been leaning against the driver’s seat pretending to sleep, lifted his head slightly.
The maid, who had become familiar after being followed all day, came into view. On the other hand, Madam Russell was nowhere to be seen.
While the driver was struck with confusion, the maid boarded the carriage alone and vanished leisurely.
The driver hesitated for a moment but decided not to chase the carriage, choosing to wait. However, until the boutique doors were locked that day, Madam Russell did not make another appearance.
✦ ✦ ✦
“It seems she gave us the slip on purpose.”
“…Gave you the slip on purpose? Are you admitting that the tail was discovered?”
Auguste asked with a displeased expression, his arms crossed as he faced the man who had come to his office.
“…It appears so.”
“My, how disappointing. They said trailing two women without being detected would be as easy as taking a cake from a table.”
“Stop it. I told you, it was a useless endeavor to begin with.”
Max, sitting at his desk, chided Auguste without much enthusiasm for belittling the man.
Max had agreed to place a tail only because Auguste had insisted so strongly, but he hadn’t expected an outcome like this.
Not only did she notice the tail, but she managed to slip away effortlessly. Max was beyond bewildered; he even felt a strange sense of amusement.
The man Auguste had scouted from somewhere seemed embarrassed himself and left after taking only half of the requested fee.
“Where did you find such a person?”
Max didn’t ask because he was truly curious. Auguste replied sullenly.
“It wasn’t the same place your wife requested. If I’d known it would come to this, I should have just used them. Their skills were certainly proven.”
Max and Auguste were both mocking the fact that they hadn’t even realized the existence of a tail until Madam Rossignol escalated the situation.
“Actually, he isn’t the type to work so sloppily, either…”
Auguste began to complain about his misfortune, almost as if he were trying to make excuses for the man he had hired.
“It’s at times like this that I truly feel the sting of being cast out of the family. If only I could still use the Delaporte name—if I could have hired someone who wouldn’t be caught, even if it wasn’t through your wife, but through her father…”
Max, without taking his eyes off his documents, corrected his brazen friend’s lament.
“You weren’t cast out of the family; you crawled out on your own two feet. Even now, if you were to crawl back in, the position of the eldest son would be guaranteed.”
“Well, that is one way to look at it.”
At Max’s stinging retort, Auguste shrugged his shoulders and quickly changed the subject.
“Regardless, Representative, isn’t it a bit strange?”
“What is?”
“Your wife.”
At the mention of his wife, Max finally raised his head to look at Auguste.
“You heard it just now, too. What Madam Russell did in the department store lounge.”
Failing the surveillance was shocking, but the situation that had unfolded during the act was just as unusual.
“She openly denied the contents of the articles that had been published, and she talked back to the dowager marchioness by bringing up ‘Le Xixe Siecle’…”
On top of that, her skill in shaking off the tail. Auguste felt suspicious of the woman’s sudden change.
“The image didn’t match the Madam Russell I had in mind at all, so while I was listening, I thought it was someone else entirely.”
Max felt much the same way. It was hard to shake that feeling throughout the entire report. Is that really the woman I know?
In particular, though Auguste hadn’t mentioned it, there was her claim that their marriage had been forced…
‘When on earth did she start thinking like that?’
As far as Max knew, Freya believed their marriage had saved him. At least until last year, when he was still employing people to track her and meeting other women, she clearly held that belief.
‘She must have believed it until very recently.’
He couldn’t gauge the point at which that thought had changed. And most importantly.
‘How on earth did she find out?’
Who told her, and how much did they say? What on earth has happened to her…
Beside the lost-in-thought Max, Auguste shook his head in disbelief and muttered.
“They say if a person changes suddenly, it’s because they’re nearing the end of their days. Max, what on earth happened to your wife?”
✦ ✦ ✦
“So, what you are saying, Madam, is that you are living the same time over and over again?”
Dr. Sigmund asked, looking at the woman.
Whether it was luck or misfortune, he had finished his work about fifteen minutes late that day because he was organizing his consultation notes.
He had just been about to lock the doors to the Consultation Room when a patient he had never seen before—a case unlike any he had encountered—abruptly appeared on the dim, deserted path.
“That is correct.”
The woman sitting in front of Dr. Sigmund agreed in a calm voice.
Perhaps she had just come from a funeral. Wearing a hat with a black veil that covered half her face, she wore a simple, modest black dress that was not particularly luxurious.
Based on her attire, she appeared to be an unmarried woman from a middle-class family with some level of education. However, the tone of her voice suggested she was the daughter of a rather prestigious household.
Dr. Sigmund refrained from passing premature judgment and continued the conversation.
“There must be a reason why you have come to think so. What is that reason?”
At Dr. Sigmund’s question, the woman’s lips curved upward naturally.