CWMBR 115

Chapter 115

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“Ah, that address... I've already passed it along to Lady Sanne."

Those words sounded like no action had been taken yet.

Given how Uncoat was dropping new articles daily lately, Donna knew full well it was wise to lay low for now. Yet if she'd chased after the tailor's and caused a scene, it meant that the note she was seeking was that important. Bridget instinctively guessed it was probably the very note with that address she'd picked up in the room.

"I might as well go to the office now and check on the investigation's progress while I'm at it."

Bridget, lost in thought, snapped her head up. Gilum also seemed to sense something was off.

"Fortunately, Wayna is keeping watch over the lady, so my absence shouldn't cause any problems."

Bridget had seen firsthand over the past few days just how diligently Wayna carried out her duties. She nodded readily.

"Yes, please do."

Watching Gilum hurriedly put on his coat, Bridget recalled the Glynford map she'd left in the room.

The address was in her head, so she only needed to confirm the exact location. She certainly didn't plan to go there alone, but still.

***

"You didn't have breakfast, did you? Eat up quickly. The food here is really good."

Declan said cheerfully, pulling his plate closer. Lately, his work had left him eating poorly, so he was in high spirits after finally being introduced to a proper bakery. He was happily eyeing the sandwich, clearly generously filled, when he smiled faintly and reached for it.

"Declan."

Ain, sitting across from him and sipping coffee with an indifferent expression, spoke up.

"You said it yourself. That all I have to offer is money and looks."

Declan looked at Ain with puzzled eyes. It was true he had said that to Ain. Not just once, but many times. He'd said it whenever the thought occurred to him.

Each time, Ain had ignored Declan completely, maintaining a composed demeanor as if refusing to engage with such low-level talk.

But why now?

"But what if neither works?"

Wondering what Ain was getting at, Declan let out a hollow laugh.

"What else can you do? Give up."

Declan replied casually, picking up his sandwich. Thinly sliced meat peeked through the fresh lettuce and onions. What a harmonious sight.

"You're talking about Madame Wise, right?"

Declan opened his mouth wide to take a bite of his sandwich, then added condescendingly.

"The way I see it, the best help is just quietly disappearing from sight."

Declan spoke decisively, chewing his sandwich. Just one bite was enough to bring a smile to his lips. And while Declan took three bites of his sandwich, Ain showed no reaction.

Having devoured half the sandwich in an instant, Declan glanced absently across the table and froze. His mouth, which had been open, closed awkwardly. He narrowed his eyes and studied Ain's expression.

He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. His gaze, fixed on empty space, lacked any particular focus. His lips, pressed together in a straight line as if deep in thought, showed no sign of opening. He even set down the coffee cup he'd been sipping from, his face cold and distant.

Cold, yes... but... what was the word? The arrogance that usually seemed to come naturally with that coldness was completely absent.

"What's with that reaction?"

Could it be because of what he said? Declan frowned, replaying his earlier words. He'd gone to Madame Wise's mansion that morning and seemed to have been given the cold shoulder. Declan had advised him to give up and quietly disappear from her sight.

But he hadn't given this advice just once or twice. Normally, he wouldn't have listened to a word and pushed ahead with his own ideas. Why was he suddenly acting like he was taking Declan's words to heart?

"Are you really sick?"

Declan set down his sandwich and scrutinized Ain’s face intently.

When had he ever needed to examine Ain’s face closely? Usually, he'd just glance at that shiny, smooth face and move on, but now it seemed his skin had become a bit rough and dry. There was a strange shadow under his eyes, and his eyes seemed to have lost some of their sparkle... No, when did this guy start looking like such a miserable, worn-out dog?

Declan rubbed his chin, tilting his head as he muttered to himself.

"Wasn't Madame Wise just talking nonsense? Could he be sick?"

Ain, who had been quietly lost in thought, met his gaze as if responding to the remark.

"Did Bridget worry about my health?"

Immediately after asking in a dry voice, Ain frowned and dismissed his own question.

"No, she wouldn't have."

Declan looked bewildered at his dismissing that absurd hope so readily. Either way, Ain narrowed his eyes and said.

"Then did she wish I was dead?"

Suddenly? Why was the conversation jumping to that?

Ain paid no heed to Declan's eyes darting wildly. Instead, he nodded slightly, as if convinced by his own words.

"Well, it is the surest way to get rid of me. Besides, if I die now, Bridget would inherit the estate."

Declan's jaw dropped, his face frozen in utter shock as he raised his voice.

"You want to give the lady your inheritance?"

"What kind of nonsense is that?"

No, you were the one spouting nonsense just now….

Ain, seemingly unaware of how absurd his own words had been moments before, casually averted his gaze. Fixing his eyes on the empty space again, he pressed his lips tightly together as if deep in thought.

Whether it was fortunate or not, there was no sign on his face of any intention to give up his own life. Ain wasn't the type to do such a thing in the first place.

However, Declan sensed that even now, in this moment of silence, a vast web of thoughts was unfurling within his mind. It was unlikely to be the pragmatic, calculated kind of thinking typical of Ain.

Declan, who had been pursing his lips, turned toward the table where Iliont and Fergus sat and gestured urgently.

"Iliont, Fergus! We're in big trouble. Ain seems to have truly lost it. We need to call the physician, you hear me?"

Iliont and Fergus, who were enjoying a slightly late breakfast/lunch, simultaneously turned to look at Ain. Seeing his outwardly indifferent and cold expression, they apparently judged there was no issue at all and nonchalantly returned their attention to their own meals.

No, how could they be so unconcerned about their superior's state!

Declan clicked his tongue at the aides' blatant display of purely professional detachment when Ain suddenly blurted out.

"We need to change the market."

"Huh?"

Declan understood all too easily that this 'market' wasn't referring to the cozy plaza where goods were bought and sold.

Because Ain was already picking fights with the police department executives. For now, the police department was holding firm, seemingly determined to save face, but ultimately, the end would be as Ain intended: those he singled out would be forced to resign.

But hadn't they already met with the Mayor of Glynford? The atmosphere hadn't seemed bad at the time.

"Why suddenly?"

"Because just touching the police headquarters won't change much."

He muttered indifferently, glancing at the table. A coffee cup and a basket of bread sat there, alongside jam and cutlery, with a newspaper carelessly folded beside them.

"Look at this article. It's a complete mess."

The 'article' he referred to was the one criticizing Uncoat's reckless targeted investigation and pitying the plight of the fragile actress.

Declan followed his gaze and let out a low gasp. Indeed, the Glynford papers lately were nothing short of utter chaos. It was only because they borrowed the form of letters and printed pages that they could be called such; in reality, they were closer to a dogfight in the marketplace. If the sharp confrontation between the articles were visualized as a fight, wouldn't it be depicted as grabbing each other by the hair, clawing faces, and throwing dirt in eyes?

But in truth, were these illegal acts? No, they weren't.

"Well, there's freedom of the press, so...."

"It's not freedom; it's a shared vulnerability."

Ain sneered, glaring at the newspaper with an indifferent voice.

"It's obvious. Do you think Ronan Pennington just fed them money? He must have held some leverage he could wield if necessary. He's wielding it now."

Declan agreed with that assessment. Simply handing over money wasn't enough to forge a solid relationship of mutual benefit.

But knowing that, what could they do about it?

Once they started digging, it would be an endless pit. Mess with it, and they'd have to tear up the entire field.

The police department had some justification, but the mayor? What possible grounds could there be?

The mayor was elected by the city council, whose members were handpicked by the major upper-class families who controlled the central assembly. This meant it could be a matter that would seriously antagonize someone in the upper echelons. It was a completely different matter from going after one or two police officials or shutting down a mental hospital.

"What... are you trying to do... to this entire city?"

"That's fine."

Declan didn't know how many times he'd asked the same question, but he felt compelled to ask it again.

Are you out of your mind?