CWMBR 103

Chapter 103

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****

Gilum gave a sheepish smile at Bridget's words. He waved his hands dismissively, saying it was no big deal and she needn't make such a fuss, but then suddenly remembered something and fumbled in his coat.

"Ah, and this is the consolation money issued by the royal household."

He handed over an envelope. The outer seal was purple sealing wax, stamped with the royal crest recognizable to any Alensian.

"As you can see, it's completely untouched. So I don't know how much it is either."

Bridget ran her fingertip over the smooth, hardened sealing wax once before looking at Gilum.

"Condolence money?"

"It's separate from the alimony. This is... well... condolence money regarding the lady's miscarriage. Since the child was of royal blood. It was paid out on moral grounds."

"Ah."

Bridget let out a short gasp and looked down at the envelope before her with a strange expression. They said they'd give sufficient compensation, but was this what they meant?

Meanwhile, Gilum pulled out another piece of paper and handed it over.

"Would you mind signing this receipt to confirm you've received it?"

"...."

Ain was under the royal family's care, after all. Bridget suddenly thought that. Seeing how they went to such lengths to prevent unnecessary rumors from spreading, it seemed Ain Wise was indeed a thorn in the side the royal family cherished dearly. And seeing how they so easily converted the life she lost into a number, it seemed they truly shared the same mindset.

It was still the right path for both of them to part ways now.

The amount was larger than expected. So large, in fact, that it could completely clear the debt owed to the Grand Theater.

Thanks to this, Bridget realized Ronan hadn't used all the money he borrowed from Ain to pay off the Grand Theater debt. Ronan had apparently only covered the bare minimum to put out the immediate fire, using the rest elsewhere. The amount he had actually repaid was negligible.

With the debt gone, there was no need to scramble desperately to earn extra money. In fact, enough remained that living expenses for the foreseeable future were no longer a worry. The royal generosity was quite substantial.

Financial breathing room broadens a narrow perspective. Bridget had to admit, despite the discomfort she felt receiving the consolation money, that it was a tremendous help.

After stopping by the bank to settle the debt, she headed straight for the Merchants' Guild. To assess the Grand Theater's financial state and formulate a new operational plan, hiring a professional accountant was essential. It was better to start systematically from the beginning than risk making things worse by trying to handle it herself. Whether it was fortunate or not, the Grand Theater, with all its staff gone and no schedule booked for some time, provided an ideal environment to rebuild the foundation from scratch.

The Merchant Guild recommended several accountants, and Bridget decided to interview a few of them. She had assumed preparations for hiring new staff and reopening the theater could only begin after receiving the settlement. Finding herself able to start preparations sooner than expected, Bridget felt the urgent need to resolve the issues with Donna and Ronan quickly. It was obvious the two wouldn't welcome the reopening of the Glynford Grand Theater, so she had to negotiate with them one way or another.

Inside the carriage returning home, Bridget fiddled with the papers Finn had given her.

A consent form for involuntary admission.

Finn had said he'd give her time to think, asking her to bring it back to him signed. Along with the papers, she'd received Finn's lodging address. It was the address of the finest hotel in Glynford, where he'd stayed before.

He seemed certain she would sign the papers eventually. That she would concede this was the best course.

Bridget's gaze fell on the hospital name printed below. Altinbir Mental Hospital.

Ronan had already tried to have her forcibly admitted here. Would it really work now that she was trying to commit him here? There was no way Ronan had contacted a mental hospital with no connection to him.

Bridget bit her lower lip hard and tucked the papers away for now. Then she addressed Gilum, who was seated diagonally across from her.

"Mr. Gilum, have you located the residence where Donna is staying?"

"Ah, I understand they're focusing on the location the lady provided."

"So you still don't know my Uncle's whereabouts either."

"Yes, that's correct."

Gilum gave an awkward smile and nodded.

"And frankly, we can't just focus solely on Mr. Ronan."

Bridget nodded in understanding. Whoever was distributing illegal drugs probably wasn't acting alone, so the investigators were likely busy monitoring several associates.

After a moment's thought, Bridget asked cautiously.

"I found an unknown address in the room Donna used. Would it be helpful to share this?"

"An address? Could you show it to me?"

Hoping it might be useful, she handed over the note she'd brought along. Gilum looked at it quietly. He tilted his head slightly, then took the note.

"I'll take this with me for now, but it doesn't match any locations we're currently investigating. Verifying this address will take some time."

Bridget watched the note in Gilum’s hand for a moment before looking away. The address was already in her head anyway, so it didn't matter if she gave him the note.

Should she wait for the royal investigators' findings?

But who knew when that would be? What if they concluded the two were innocent? Was there nothing more she could do to end this situation? Should she really expose Ronan's affair, as Gilum’s suggested? But how seriously would the press take mere rumors without any evidence? Should she search her house for other proof?

Bridget rubbed her forehead.

The mysterious address found in Donna's room kept circling in her mind.

What on earth was that place?

***

The moment he stormed into the office, Declan sternly addressed Ain.

"Even back in the days of swordfights on the street, we always made sure to throw down the gauntlet first."

Ain, who had just opened a freshly sealed envelope with a paper knife, frowned at his expression.

"So, you want me to go throw down the gauntlet?"

"Ain, Eldhart is telling everyone he won't let you off easy if he catches you!"

Declan, looking exasperated, swept his hair back. Ain, unfazed, finished opening the envelope and retorted.

"Well, who told him to pick up just anything? He should worry about getting sick from eating filth."

"You know who that mental hospital investor is too…………"

"Count Anberg? He must have had his fun, so he probably doesn't regret it."

"Is that something you should be saying, considering you're the one making him spit out all that fun?"

Ain snorted at that.

"That's just karma for his poor judgment in picking the wrong investment."

When investing, high returns matter, but managing risk matters more. In that sense, Count Anberg, the investor in Altinbir Mental Hospital, was far too complacent. He seemed to believe that since the hospital was secretly 'used' by certain parties, any problems arising wouldn't be easily addressed due to those 'users' – but those 'users' didn't dominate the entire Alensia social scene. They were people who could easily afford to use 'other places,' and the Altinbir Mental Hospital was a replaceable facility.

So, if someone like Ain Wise—someone with some power, connections to the royal family, and no regard for others' opinions—decided to push to shut down the mental hospital, it would be impossible to stop.

If one wanted to find fault, there was plenty to pick at. From a simple tax audit to secret internal facilities operating without permits.

Ain pulled out every possible pretext, from minor hiring irregularities to hospital management corruption, petitioning for an audit of the asylum. He added the criminal charge of attempting to kidnap Madame Wise.

Declan knew full well that all the lengthy criticisms listed earlier were merely window dressing for the final reason. Having sent the mysterious documents to the royal administration at Ain's request, completely unaware of the truth, Declan had been overwhelmed by the response that came back.

Moreover, it was unclear when they had acted, but major newspapers in the capital were already publishing lengthy, in-depth articles exposing the true nature of Altinbir Mental Hospital. These painstakingly detailed articles, spanning several pages, were astonishingly thorough and critical.

Declan was certain each page had cost a considerable sum.

"I just wanted to correct the fact that a mere mental hospital was violating Alencia law, which even the royal family follows."

"Isn't it karma for offending you?"

Ain retorted coldly to Declan, who asked back in an incredulous voice.

"Just keep doing what you were doing."

"Hey, what I said was………………."

"But Declan."

Ain cut him off abruptly, staring blankly at the paper he'd just pulled from the envelope.

"Do psychiatrists issue death certificates?"