CWMBR 119

Chapter 119

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"It's an eyesore, spoiling the city's appearance and creating a gloomy atmosphere. I'm cleaning it up because I can't stand looking at it."

What the hell is this guy talking about now? He doesn't even believe in ghosts to begin with.

Ignoring Declan's stunned expression, Ain handed the newly brought sales contract to Fergus. Declan's gaze naturally followed the paper.

With no intention of hiding it, the name written on it was fully exposed.

"Shilton Farm?"

This time it wasn't an abandoned house, but a land sale.

"You didn't buy this farm because it was ruining the city's appearance too, did you?"

"Yeah."

"A farm? What... This isn't even an area within the city limits to begin with!"

The next page of the sales contract contained documents detailing various information about the farm. Declan quietly took it and scanned it, his expression turning utterly bewildered.

The farm was located on the outskirts of Glynford. It was far too out of sight to be considered damaging the city's appearance, and he couldn't fathom what justification Ain had used to buy it. Ain spoke in an indifferent tone to Declan, who was staring at him with a look of incomprehension.

"A murder happened there."

"What? Then we definitely shouldn't buy it!"

Declan flung the documents away in shock. Fortunately, Fergus caught them with a deft hand, preventing a scene of papers flying everywhere.

"The ghost of the murdered victim jumps out every night, you know."

Declan's mouth fell open involuntarily. Buying land where a ghost appeared every night! Good heavens, what on earth could you possibly use something like that for! And if it was the ghost of a murder victim, it was bound to be hideously grotesque and terrifying. Declan shuddered involuntarily at the image of a blood-soaked ghost drifting about.

"You plan to exorcise them?"

"Exorcise?"

"To send the ghosts to the afterlife... Hey, don't look at me like that!"

Ain, who had been staring at Declan with an expression of hearing something bizarre, clicked his tongue.

"If you're so swamped you're spouting nonsense, you should just rest."

Who was he to say that? Declan shot Ain a look of indignation, then grimaced and glanced at Fergus's desk. On top of it, besides the Shilton Farm sale contract he'd placed there moments ago, were piles of other sale contracts Ain had steadily handed him over time.

"You're trying to run some kind of buy-low, sell-high business? But even then, you should buy places where there's demand. The places you're buying...?"

Though Declan couldn't exactly be called an expert on investments, to his eyes, those properties clearly had zero resale value. His voice trailed off, then suddenly, he reached out. It was paperwork related to Shilton Farm.

"What's this? The production figures are absolutely... Is this place even operational?"

It was a chart quantifying the farm's current state, showing production levels so low they were practically non-existent. Ain, who glanced at the papers Declan held, replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"For now."

"This doesn't look salvageable at all..."

He'd hoped a farm might at least turn a profit, but judging by this paper, shutting down operations would be more profitable. At Declan's words, Fergus quickly checked the documents.

Deep wrinkles etched into Fergus's usually composed forehead. No matter how capable he was, reviving a farm that was essentially dead was beyond his reach.

Fergus's expression darkened like the overcast sky. To him, Ain said.

"So tear it all down."

"……………… Huh?"

"Tell them to start over with the soil tests."

"Even if they test, the quality will likely be inferior to your estates, won't it?"

Declan raised the question, as if reading Fergus's mind.

"The yield dropped so steeply; there must be a problem. No matter how well it performed in the past, there's now a factor making it unsuitable for operation as a farm."

That made sense. Whether that factor was external or, as Ain said, truly a soil issue, they would need more investigation to know.

But did that mean he really intended to improve this farm and run it properly?

Fergus, now unexpectedly saddled with farm management beyond his fate, asked with a somewhat pale, weary expression, doubtfully, "That... do you have a specific crop in mind?"

He'd hoped for an answer like wanting to build a structure or leave the land empty. But Ain crushed Fergus's hopes mercilessly.

"Something that won't spoil the view."

Declan, who had been quietly observing the exchange, crept closer to lliont and whispered.

"………………Did the doctor really diagnose him correctly? Are you absolutely sure there's nothing wrong?"

A few days ago, unable to withstand Declan's fussing, Iliont had personally brought the doctor to check Ain's condition. And the result was that Ain was perfectly fine.

"He was diagnosed as basically healthy, though he does have insomnia and some symptoms caused by stress."

Insomnia, headaches, reduced appetite, persistent tension, restlessness, and anxiety—weren't these common symptoms any working adult carried around? While Ain's symptoms had worsened somewhat compared to before, it was difficult to interpret this change as indicative of a physically fatal illness.

Declan rolled his eyes at Iliont's words, clearly unconvinced. Regardless, Ain finished handling a few tasks on his desk and picked up his coat again.

"Ah, going out again?"

"For a walk."

Good heavens, Ain Wise going for a walk! Could there be a more mismatched phrase? Declan, frozen in shock, soon scanned Ain with a skeptical eye.

"What useless waste of money are you planning this time?"

Ain seemed annoyed by Declan's interrogation. His brows narrowed sharply as he pressed his temples and replied coldly.

"Declan. Are you handling Bridget's request?"

"I assure you, Ain. I seem to be more helpful to Madame Wise than you are."

Ain's shoulders stiffened at Declan's confident retort. Without another word, he stormed out of the office, his face grim.

Despite having won the argument, Declan felt no satisfaction. Instead, a sudden fear gripped him—fear that the backlash might be too much to handle later.

Instantly uneasy, Declan quickly glanced back at Iliont and Fergus.

"………………Did I go too far?"

Is that guy going to hold onto today's humiliation and make me pay for it later?

Fergus blinked at Declan's worried question, then shrugged his shoulders.

"No, well. You weren't wrong, after all."

"I'm sure Madame Wise would agree."

When Iliont subtly chimed in too, Declan's face brightened a little.

"……………… Right?"

Declan regained his confidence. Watching him, Iliont and Fergus offered him a subtle smile.

They secretly felt relieved, thinking how they might never have endured that suffocating office and that sensitive, inscrutable boss with Declan.

***

It wasn't that he'd planned to buy a ruin from the start.

Ain wanted to go back to the beginning, as Declan had advised. Back to that very first day he arrived in Glynford. Back to the day he impulsively canceled his return train ticket.

At the time, he hadn't thought much of it, but as time passed and he reflected on it again, his perspective shifted slightly.

Ain began to see himself a little more objectively. At the same time, he realized just how strange it had been to cancel that ticket on the very first day.

His behavior toward Bridget had been completely off from start to finish. Walking the same streets he'd walked with her, replaying his own attitude and emotions, his mind grew cold. It didn't take long to realize that every thought and feeling he'd told her back then had been nothing but rationalization.

He scanned Glynford somewhat obsessively. As he did, he surprised himself by remembering the daily routines he'd shared with Bridget more precisely than he'd expected.

He could have easily forgotten them. He was the type to quickly calculate profit and dismiss anything deemed worthless without a second glance. Both Glynford and the Grand Theater had long since fallen out of his favor in that regard. Yet the fact he hadn't forgotten Glynford's daily life meant he'd been captivated by something all along.

Why hadn't he realized it?

From the very beginning, only one thing had kept his footsteps tied to this place.

Bridget Pennington.

Recalling her chattering voice, Ain finally understood. What it was he had instinctively sought to obtain.

Walking the streets of Glynford, he belatedly recognized his own desire and simultaneously began to understand how he had lost it, in some form.

He stopped abruptly. His feet had stopped in front of the closed doors of the Glynford Grand Theater.

The devoted fans of Donna who had lingered around the theatre just days ago were nowhere to be seen. Hesitating briefly, he gently pushed the theater doors. Expecting them to be locked, he was surprised to find the entrance open. Ain narrowed his eyes.

The interior of the Grand Theater, entered quietly, felt musty and cool, as if it had been empty for a long time. As Ain surveyed the silent lobby, just as he was about to take a step forward.

Clatter!

A faint sound of movement came from upstairs.

His blue eyes stared blankly at the stairwell.