Chapter 59
“That cannot be. My wife was supposed to be on that train as well.”
Lionel’s low voice cut through the air of the galley.
“If that is the case, perhaps she boarded the standard class? I did not see her in the first-class section.”
George was certain.
He had seen the Duchess’s face in the newspapers several times.
Though they were black-and-white photos, it was clear even at a glance that she was an extraordinary beauty.
So much so that once you saw her, you could never forget her.
There was no way he would have failed to recognize such a beauty.
However, contrary to George, Lionel’s expression grew progressively darker.
Clearly, there was a first-class ticket issued in Agnes’s name.
And there was a photo remaining of her heading toward the first-class entrance.
Every piece of evidence pointed her toward the southern-bound train. For that reason, he had lightly dismissed Agnes’s claim that she did not go to the South.
Yet now, the words of this attendant were completely negating all of that.
Lionel lightly clenched his fist.
If those words were true, did it mean Agnes really headed North that day, not South?
If so, it meant Simon’s death might not have been Agnes’s fault.
“……That cannot be.”
Lionel unconsciously brushed his chin.
A single memory flared up.
Just before blowing up the bridge, the 5th Brigade Operations Commander had said so over the radio. That someone was inside the Bardo trading company carriage.
And at the moment the bridge collapsed, a scream had been heard over that radio.
A short, sharp scream, bursting out amidst the sound of shellfire.
At the time, he thought he had simply misheard it, but if that had been Agnes’s scream…….
‘No. It is just a hasty conclusion.’
There was also the possibility that Agnes boarded the train but did not go to her cabin.
However, he could not shake the feeling that he was missing something decisive.
“This is getting troublesome.”
Lionel clicked his tongue briefly.
“I’ll have to check it myself once I return.”
Asking Agnes, the person involved, would be the most accurate and fastest way.
Yes, to Agnes…….
‘Wait. Accurate?’
Lionel could not hide his surprise at the fact that he was naturally trying to believe Agnes’s words.
It was then.
Beyond the glass door of the first-class carriage, Kalt urgently sent a hand signal.
Lionel cut off his thoughts and pushed open the glass door.
“The location has been confirmed. The Minister of Internal Affairs is in Cabin 1.”
“The companion,”
“One male of unidentified identity is on board with him.”
The train was entering a tunnel.
With the sound of the tracks creaking, the interior of the carriage was rapidly swallowed by darkness from the front.
The silhouette of the cabin swayed beneath the flickering lamps.
The air grew heavily cold.
As Lionel nodded, Kalt quietly opened the door to the first cabin.
A peculiar, stinging smell of ash drifted out from inside.
The two men held their breath as they stepped into the cabin.
The Minister of Internal Affairs looked up with startled eyes.
“C-Colonel Valheim?”
Beside him sat a man with his hat pulled down low.
The Minister, recognizing Lionel, suddenly grabbed the man by the collar.
“Look here, this isn’t what we agreed upon. Why is that man here— Ugh!”
But soon, the Minister’s scream was cut in half.
As the man whose collar was grabbed twisted his body, a silver light flashed through the air.
As the blade slashed across the Minister’s throat, hot blood spurted out like a fountain.
Instantly.
The train entered the tunnel completely, and pitch-black darkness swallowed the cabin.
Not missing that moment, the man threw open the cabin window.
Lionel snatched the shoulder of the man who was about to jump out the window.
“Don’t even think about running away.”
Lionel’s grip tightened.
Crackle. The sound of a shoulder bone twisting echoed unpleasantly inside the cabin.
“Agh……!”
The captured man let out a grotesque shriek and then stabbed downward with the dagger he was holding.
“Ugh!”
The blade sank precisely into the area where the wound had not yet healed.
A current-like pain bolted from his shoulder to his fingertips like lightning.
At that exact moment, the train jolted and slowed down.
Having exited the tunnel, the train was entering the station platform.
The man did not miss that short opening he twisted his body and threw himself out the window.
The wind, the black air of the tunnel, rushed into the cabin all at once.
As the train cleared the end of the tunnel, the outside light flashed past like a flare.
Lionel offset his teeth.
He leaned out the window, pressing down on his shoulder where blood was spreading.
The man’s shadow flashed across the tracks.
With the sound of the train whistle, he fled along the line.
His red-tinted hair flashed for a moment as it caught the light of the lamps.
“……Damn it.”
Lionel pulled out his gun.
At the edge of his vision, the man’s silhouette surged like a wave amidst the swaying crowd on the platform.
His finger touched the trigger, but it was already too late.
There were too many people.
It was obvious that the moment he fired, civilian blood would be scattered.
In the meantime, the red hair blended into the crowd on the platform and completely vanished.
Having lost the man, Lionel chewed on a curse and examined the body of the Minister of Internal Affairs.
A single sword cut remained on the neckline.
The blood was already cold.
He searched the Minister’s person and pulled out a single sheet of vellum with his fingertips.
When it touched the light, a faint pattern engraved on the surface was revealed.
It was the symbol of the Imperial Family.
Lionel’s eyes slowly narrowed.
He inhaled the surrounding air.
A subtle, stinging scent that was neither tobacco nor gunpowder. It was the smell of expensive leaves used in a specific type of pipe tobacco imported from the East.
And Lionel knew one person who enjoyed smoking such a strong scent.
A member of the Imperial Family who could use vellum.
One who had red hair and always carried a pipe in his mouth…….
“……Jerome Winterbolt.”
Lionel’s voice dropped low.
As the train that exited the tunnel gained speed again, the sound of iron wheels scraping the tracks continued slowly.
He looked down at his blood-stained fingers.
“This is more interesting than expected.”
A cold breath leaked from between Lionel’s lips.
“My goodness, Agnes-nim. Did you sleep here?”
Simon’s horrified voice echoed in the hallway.
Agnes barely managed to lift her
heavy eyelids.
The chilled air had seeped into her very bones.
Leaning against the wall, her body was stiff as if she had stayed up all night.
Only after seeing her hair tangled in the doorknob did she realize she had spent the night curled up in this spot.
“……It seems I fell asleep here yesterday.”
Her voice was hoarse.
She tried to raise her body, but her joints were stiff and did not move well.
It felt as if the chill was embedded in every joint.
“What on earth have you all been doing!”
Simon’s shouting filled the hallway.
The maids gathered in front of the office prostrated themselves hurriedly with frightened faces.
“Butler, that is, we were just……”
“Silence! To leave the Duchess abandoned on the hallway floor and say it was ‘just’!”
Simon’s shoulders heaved.
“Where is Mrs. Nora!”
“The Head Maid has not come out yet.”
“Good heavens……!”
Simon took off his glasses and pressed the bridge of his nose. He had believed that Mrs. Nora, of all people, would manage the servants better than he could.
What was this situation?
Simon felt a sense of responsibility for this situation. Even if domestic management was no longer his duty, he should have paid attention.
Agnes stared blankly at Simon.
It was the first time she had seen him so overtly angry.
Only then did Simon snatch the wheelchair from the servant who was bringing it and approached her himself to support Agnes.
“I am sorry, Lady Agnes.”
Simon bowed his head deeply.
“I will follow whatever disposition you decide for these girls. Furthermore, the Head Maid and I will also take responsibility for failing to oversee the servants.”
Agnes was silent for a moment.
Her eyelids were swollen, and dried tears were tangled in her eyelashes.
She slowly raised her head and uttered unexpected words.
“……Could you prepare water for me to wash?”
“Of course. I will order it to be prepared immediately.”
As soon as Simon answered, the maids moved frantically.
“The servants……”
Agnes turned her head and scanned the hallway.
The maids were each busy avoiding her eyes.
“Please have Simon handle them. Quietly…… so it doesn’t reach the Duke’s ears.”
“Will that truly be enough?”
“Yes.”
“…… Understood.”
Simon still glared at the servants with fierce eyes.
Perhaps only then did they start to feel the pressure. After the bathwater was prepared, the maids made a fuss, each saying they would assist with the bath.
However, Agnes pushed them all away and entered the bathroom alone, locking the door tightly.
Steam slowly filled the bathroom.
Even in the warm air, her body remained cold.
Drip, drip.
The sound of water falling echoed off the ceiling.
That sound overlapped with the radio noise Andrew had played for her yesterday.
In an instant, her solar plexus throbbed, and her breath caught.
“Ugh……!”
At the surging sensation of nausea, Agnes grabbed the sink.
Even so, since she hadn’t eaten much, it was merely dry heaving.
Wiping her dry lips, Agnes curled her body tightly and blocked her ears with both hands.
The radio noise kept replaying in her head.
“It’s okay. It’s okay…… it will pass soon. Everything will be okay.”
But those words were a mantra to deceive herself.
Nothing was okay.
Even at this moment, she was still within yesterday’s terror.
More than anything, she was terrified by the fact that she had to endure this in the future.
She wanted to run to Lionel, grab the hem of his trousers, and beg.
It was fine to look pathetic.
It was okay if he mocked her for having no patience.
Just, please make this treatment stop.
But she couldn’t do that.
She remembered his eyes.
She felt that if she disappointed him even once, she would never be able to hold her head up again.
Before she knew it, the water was growing cold, and a chill filled the bathroom instead of steam.
☆▪︎▪︎☆
