The man, who had watched her quietly until she finished speaking, opened his mouth.
Even as she inwardly marveled that he looked like a picture no matter how many times she looked, Ayesha, realizing the polite form of address that had flowed from his lips, started in surprise.
‘Lady’ Ayesha, he had said.
Didn’t that make it seem as though she must become a noble lady, elegant and careful in her every movement?
But she was living a life far removed from the refined ladies that nobles would naturally picture.
On busy mornings preparing for work, she often ran out in a hurry with a hard piece of bread stuffed with ham and cheese in her mouth, and when she safely finished an article, she would stop by her regular tavern, order a cheap glass of beer, and sip it with the snack that came with it—that was the small pleasure of a reporter with a light purse.
And on days when an article she had written happened to take a good spot, she would sometimes raise a celebratory drink alone.
Of course, there were far more days when an article she had worked hard on was pushed to some remote corner where no one noticed, left unread and discarded.
She had only imagined it for a moment, yet she felt the discomfort of having forced her body into clothes that did not suit her.
She felt ticklish inside.
No matter how many times she heard it, she would never get used to that embarrassing title.
“Please call me Ayesha.”
She hurriedly corrected the form of address.
“Just Ayesha is enough.”
Honestly, at least it was not ‘Hey, you.’
When she was being pushed this way and that in search of material, she often heard not only the informal ‘Hey, you’ but also vulgar curses mixed with complaints that she was being a nuisance.
Among the people Ayesha had encountered, a man with this kind of gentlemanly courtesy was rare—no, practically unheard of.
“Very well. Ayesha.”
Moreover, the other party accepted her request immediately.
After all, from any angle, it would be awkward for both sides to keep treating her, who was not a fellow noble, as a lady.
But then Ayesha heard a proposal she had not expected at all.
“Then Ayesha, you should call me Kirix as well.”
“Pardon?”
“Wouldn’t that make us equal?”
No, what was that supposed to mean?
To begin with, they had never been equal by birth.
She was nothing but an ordinary commoner, while he was a descendant of an old royal house.
If it were not for the peculiar relationship between a spirit medium and a client, he was a person from a world she would never have even brushed against in her life.
“To put it more precisely, we should become equally close.”
He added.
“After we arrive at Langfield Manor, we will probably have many things to discuss. At such times, I do not want Ayesha to waste time standing on ceremony and beating around the bush because of the obstacle of status. I want direct and clear solutions. We will need candid discussion, and for that, we should become comfortable with each other as quickly as possible now.”
Suddenly, she snapped to attention.
This man was now alluding to the tragedy of House Eseldor.
It was the very reason a descendant of an old royal house had to inquire after spirit mediums and spiritualists of dubious authenticity here and there—and the very reason Ayesha had to travel a long, arduous journey all the way to Worsley.
A spirit medium.
Ayesha once again reflected on her own lie.
Will I be able to do well?
Honestly, she was not confident.
“And to explain one more thing, Ayesha, I did not come out to inspect the estate—I came out to find you. I heard you were supposed to arrive today, but when you did not come even late into the night, I worried that some accident might have befallen you.”
“……Me?”
She could not believe it.
For a noble of Kirix Eseldor’s caliber to personally come out in this foul weather to find a mere spirit medium.
There must be plenty of people at Langfield Manor to run errands, yet Kirix had deliberately chosen the troublesome method.
“That is how urgent my situation is right now.”
But Kirix’s attitude was serious to the point of gravity.
Ayesha unconsciously straightened her back in her seat.
“Would you believe me if I said my life depends on you, Ayesha?”
What is this, wait a moment.
Is it really that dangerous?
Ayesha let the corners of her lips, which she had been forcing upward, slowly fall.
It was a confession that became more burdensome the more she heard.
Somehow, this seemed quite far from the situation she had expected…….
In truth, she had not come expecting anything like this.
What could a young reporter with little experience write, and how much of it could she write?
This was not a business trip she had left on in the first place hoping for some great scoop.
From the beginning, Ayesha had only one goal.
Just to pick up material she could use for an article within a reasonable line, then quietly slip away.
But somehow, the atmosphere from the very first meeting was far from ordinary.
Can I make it out of Langfield Manor safely?
Surely I will not have my identity exposed and be punished for daring to deceive a noble, or something like that?
“That…… for now, aren’t there other spiritualists staying at the manor besides me? Did you not ask them for some kind of ritual protection?”
To escape the pressure, Ayesha rattled off whatever came out of her mouth.
But she knew better than anyone that she did not mean it.
Ritual protection, indeed.
Until she arrived in Worsley, even she had firmly believed that all those connected to the spiritual and the occult were nothing but tricksters with wordplay or swindlers looking for a quick score.
No, in fact, that belief had not changed even now.
No matter how much she thought about it, she could not understand.
What on earth was happening at Langfield Manor right now?
The easiest guess was that Kirix Eseldor had inherited some unknown mental illness from his forebears early on.
It was utterly unbelievable looking at his neat appearance, but Kirix Eseldor had grown up in a terrible environment.
It is not easy for a man with a dark and gloomy upbringing to have a bright and healthy mind.
Ayesha swallowed a sigh as she glanced sidelong at Kirix’s face and physique.
To have inherited such excellent looks and such a body, and yet…… What a waste at such a young age, truly.
Or perhaps he was deliberately throwing out all sorts of serious topics to test her, who had come claiming to be a spirit medium.
After all, nine out of ten people connected to the spiritual or whatever were charlatans.
If that were the case, she had to be truly careful in her conduct.
She must be careful not to step on a trap.
Not a single thing was easy.
Her heart was in turmoil, so she found herself seeking out God, whom she did not even believe in.
Ayesha prayed inwardly.
Please, let there be at least one person at Langfield Manor who truly knows how to perform spiritual rites.
Just enough for her to pretend to go along with it.
But her prayer was betrayed without fail.
Kirix gave a bitter smile.
“They all ran away.”
“All of them?”
“They said my request was beyond their abilities.”
Ayesha was left dumbfounded.
Had the swindlers entered Langfield Manor, realized they could not pull off a quick score and escape as they pleased, and then made excuses and fled?
Hearing that there was not a single spiritual expert in the manor, she understood Kirix’s actions in coming to fetch her as if grasping at the last rope—and at the same time, since she herself was in no different a position from those who had fled, she was left speechless.
Then she was the only spirit medium staying at Langfield Manor?
Oh, my God.
Even amid her shock, Ayesha could not suppress the skeptical tendency that any reporter must possess.
It was instinct.
“Were those people trustworthy? I mean, in terms of ability. For example, did they have a record of solving widely known cases, or did they bring a letter of introduction from someone you know?”
It was also an opportunity to discreetly confirm whether the man was testing her, and if so, in what manner.
“Well. I do not know.”
But Kirix gave her an unexpected answer.
Ayesha tilted her head.
Did that mean he had let visitors into the manor one after another without even checking their backgrounds?
“Ayesha, I do not have time to doubt people.”
He elaborated.
“I am too exhausted to do so. Every day is pressing. For my part, I have no choice but to believe that everyone is sincere. Even now, I think this: I have met many spiritual experts, but among them, there was no one with enough ability to resolve my crisis.”
Suddenly, Ayesha read deep fatigue in the man’s face.
He had already consumed so much energy that it was hard even to doubt anyone.
He was simply hoping vaguely that someday it would be resolved, unconditionally accepting all sorts of ragtag people, including her, into the manor.
His desperation made her solemn in turn.
She could not think of what to say.
Ayesha stopped her pointless questions and lowered her gaze.
“It seems we have arrived.”
