CWMBR 121

Chapter 121

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“Think about it again. There must be a reason that bastard was found dead in the study.”

Ain calmly changed the subject. At his words, Bridget frowned and muttered to herself.

“The study door has been locked for years now…….”

"There wasn't any dust on the desk. There were signs someone had touched it."

He informed her that intruders had rummaged through the study. Yet Bridget still wore a skeptical expression.

"I touched it recently when I had something to do there. That's probably why..."

Bridget, who had been shaking her head while speaking, suddenly stopped as if remembering something. She narrowed her eyes, lost in thought, and fell silent for a moment. Then she abruptly stood up.

"What is it?"

"I need to check again."

The bustling comings and goings in the office had significantly slowed. The body covered in white cloth on the floor was no longer visible. It seemed Bridget had identified the face and they had it removed separately.

Though the body was gone, the bloodstains on the wooden floor remained vivid. Bridget’s face turned ashen white at the sight. Memories of a day she wished to forget suddenly flooded her mind, searing it crimson. 

As Ain, noticing Bridget standing motionless at the study entrance, staring fixedly at one spot, was about to call out to her in puzzlement, Bridget turned her head first. Her expression noticeably stiff, she entered the inner room with somewhat hurried steps.

A desk and bookshelf stood there, flanked by several drawers she often used. Bridget crouched down before them. Sure enough, signs of a search remained. After checking a few drawers whose locks had been loosened, Bridget rose, her face dark.

"Is something missing?"

"No. But I know what they were after."

Bridget's gaze shifted to the drawers.

"My drafts."

There, her raw, unpolished drafts were piled up.

"I moved them all home recently, but I used to keep them here. Anyone who worked at the Grand Theater for a long time knew where I kept my drafts since I was young."

She hadn't exactly hidden her writing. As a child, she'd even shown some pieces to staff, asking them to read them. During the time her study was open, cleaning staff often came and went, and back then, Bridget had repeatedly asked them not to touch the drawer where she kept her drafts. Bertio was someone who would have heard that warning.

"He targeted your drafts?"

"Yes."

Otherwise, there'd be no reason to specifically search only the drawer containing the drafts. There was nothing of real monetary value in this study to begin with. If the goal was simple theft, he would have ransacked the CEO's office, yet there was no sign of it being touched.

Ain asked calmly in response to Bridget's words.

"Did that man have a reason to do it?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then he must have been hired."

At Ain’s definitive statement, Bridget rubbed her forehead and let out a sigh-laced voice.

"But why would Bertio...?"

"It's obvious, money."

Ain retorted coldly.

"Money is the reason humans do most insane things, Bridget."

This decisive statement wasn't solely born from Ain's cynical mindset.

"That man, Bertio, seemed involved in embezzlement with Ronan Pennington. Seems he’s got gambling debts too.”

Bridget raised her eyebrows at how much he knew. Noticing the question in her eyes, Ain hesitated briefly before calmly looking away and adding,

“I happened to see Declan investigating. Over his shoulder. Just by chance.”

It didn't sound like an accident to anyone listening, but Bridget didn't press him. Even if Ain had investigated Bertio, what did it matter to her?

What mattered now was the fact that Bertio had entered the writing room on someone's orders and been murdered.

"You moved all your drafts to your house?"

"Yes."

"Then it's possible the killer, finding nothing of value, flew into a rage and killed Bertio. They probably didn't even hesitate, since silencing him was the plan anyway."

Bridget pressed her temples.

"We have to report this. We need to inform Bertio's family too."

"The dead man has no family. He divorced years ago and cut off contact with his children."

Ain didn't recognize Bertio's face, yet he knew Bertio's life better than Bridget did. As she watched Ain, who had clearly investigated Bertio's background, he cleared his throat softly.

"………………Actually."

Ain, having broken the tension, lowered his gaze slightly.

"Things are a bit messy inside the Glynford Police Department. Right now, there's a high chance that even if you report anything, a proper investigation won't happen. They'll probably just do a half-assed investigation and try to wrap it up quickly. If you hand it over to them, it might just end up being treated as a routine robbery case."

While the revelations about Donna had certainly damaged the police department's image, what Ain was implying seemed to go beyond that single issue. Come to think of it, they had sent several letters related to Donna, but then suddenly stopped. Before that, they'd been sending protest-laced letters about baseless revelations, making Ain wonder if they were preparing some kind of official response.

Ain, conveying the police agency's state of paralysis with an awkward expression, glanced at the bloodstain and added.

"They probably figured killing someone this publicly wouldn't be a problem. Naturally, they'd pick someone who wouldn't cause trouble even if killed."

Bridget's expression turned bitter. Her lips twitched as if she wanted to argue, but she replied flatly instead.

"I understand what you're saying."

Discussing the sanctity of life here would only make her seem like a hollow idealist. Besides, the dead man was Ronan's right-hand man, Bertio, who had helped embezzle funds from the Grand Theater and fled. She knew full well how ridiculous it would look for her to pity and mourn his death.

Should she call it fortunate? Facing the death of someone whose face she had seen for so long, she felt less sadness than a very complex mix of emotions. Perhaps it was because she already felt betrayed by Bertio over the embezzlement issue. Whatever the reason, one thing was certain: she simply couldn't muster sympathy.

Bridget pressed her lips tightly together. Noticing her expression, Ain paused briefly before speaking.

"I want to get involved in this case. I'm a direct victim who was attacked, so I have every right to catch the culprit and seek retribution."

"Aren't you already looking for the culprit?"

Ain faltered at Bridget's remark. Bridget looked at him with renewed interest. She had noticed the Wise family members occupying every corner of the Grand Theater since she arrived. Did he suddenly want to pretend to ask permission from the theater's owner now?

But Ain was someone who didn't need anyone's permission for anything he did.

Ain, who had been silent as if at a loss for words, answered in an apologetic tone.

"................Well, I didn’t want to give them time to escape."

Bridget turned away, wondering why he was explaining himself for sending people to catch the very person who had attacked him. She wanted to leave this cramped space quickly now that she knew what had nearly been stolen. The bloodstains on the floor were especially unpleasant, constantly catching her eye despite her efforts to ignore them. The lingering smell of blood in the study made her stomach churn. 

"And once we catch that bastard, we'll find out who was after your drafts too."

Ain followed Bridget out naturally, continuing the conversation. She couldn't understand why he was making such a big effort to justify himself when he hadn't done anything wrong or forbidden.

Bridget pursed her lips, thinking he was a peculiar person.

"Mr. Emerson."

The moment she learned someone had targeted her draft work, only one person came to mind. It was only natural, as there was only one person who had recently mentioned her draft work.

"He takes a keen interest in my draft work."

She hadn't expected him to commit such a horrific murder, but looking at it another way, it meant he was that desperate.

A faint look of disgust flashed across Bridget's face.

Ain's expression darkened just as much upon hearing her answer.

"That bastard………………”

He narrowed his eyes as if he understood. His voice shot out, sharp as a blade.

"Stay away from Finn Emerson."

"Too late."

Bridget stepped into the hallway and looked around. She wanted Declan's advice on how to handle the murder that had occurred in the Grand Theater. If she left this matter entirely to Ain, she needed to confirm whether there was any responsibility she would have to bear separately, or any potential future complications. She was the owner of the Grand Theater, and she wanted to reopen it somehow.

"I already have an appointment with him."

"What are you talking about?"

Ain blocked her view as she hurriedly searched for Declan. Bridget stared intently at Ain, who stood before her with a grave expression, and said flatly.

"He agreed to read my writing, so I'm visiting him."

Ain’s face twisted in horror at Bridget’s answer. His expression darkened, as if he might raise his voice at any moment. Bridget calmly met his gaze. Perhaps he would cut her down with a sharp voice, mocking her foolishness.

But contrary to Bridget's expectation, Ain exhaled once, seemingly suppressing his emotions, then began to coax her in an uncharacteristically calm voice.

"That bastard... is far more dangerous than you think, Bridget. He's all flash on the outside, but that's all he is. If you’re looking for a writing teacher, there are plenty of other guys—no, other women too. Why choose such a worthless piece of trash... Of course, it's not that you lack discernment. Naturally, he would have approached you. So…”

Bridget felt a bit dumbfounded.

"..................I'm not an idiot. Do you really think I'd meet him just to learn writing?"