Episode 38
Translator: RaidenTL
Episode 38
Biting his lip, Rayner glared at the clothes in Elysia’s hands. With a calm expression, Evan took the jacket from her, checked the inside pocket, and spoke in a flat voice.
“Two days ago, you ordered a new jacket from the uniform shop.”
“So? Just because of that, you’re saying this jacket, which could have come from anywhere, is mine? Our builds might be similar, but it could belong to someone else—”
“You requested the initials ‘R.W’ be embroidered on the inside pocket. Those are your initials.”
Evan raised an eyebrow, then flipped the jacket inside out to reveal the letters ‘R.W’ clearly embroidered on the lining. Speechless, Rayner’s mouth hung open for a moment before he let out a dry laugh and muttered with a look of resignation.
“...It’s my jacket, I admit. But I just threw it away because it got dirty while I was working. It has nothing to do with Violante’s painting.”
“This son of a bitch...! How can you still make excuses when there’s blue paint on the right sleeve?”
“Violante isn’t the only one who uses blue paint.”
“Aha, so that’s how you want to play it?”
So he’s going to deny it to the very end. With a smirk, Elysia took the jacket back from Evan, rummaged through its outer pocket, and pulled out something palm-sized. A haughty, contemptuous smile played on her lips as she murmured.
“You’ve had it too easy. Did you really think if you just mixed it in with the trash, it would disappear from the face of the earth?”
Rayner’s eyes widened when he saw the objects in Elysia’s hand. Dangling from her fingers were a compass, its point still sharp, and a half-squeezed tube of red paint.
“How did you...”
“You need to realize that the things you carry around are, from an ordinary perspective, quite high-end.”
Peter’s father, who had been about to protest the woman suddenly confiscating his son’s clothes, still looked unconvinced even after Elysia explained that she was from Minerva, here to retrieve a lost item.
“Are you really a student from Minerva? Why would students from there come all the way here just to find a lost jacket?”
“...Well, I guess it must be a very meaningful piece of clothing. How would ordinary folk like us understand the minds of the upper class?”
Her nonchalant attitude seemed to convince him. “I suppose so...” he muttered, then clapped his hands as if remembering something and rushed back into the house.
Crash, bang... The sounds of things falling and breaking echoed from inside. Just as Elysia was beginning to feel a genuine fear that the burly-looking man was assembling some kind of weapon to kill her, he emerged holding two items that looked tiny in his large hands and offered them to her.
“Peter wanted them, so I took them out of the pocket and gave the jacket to the kid. They might be trash to you folks at Minerva, but for people like us, they’re still useful. I was planning to sell them later, but I’m afraid of the consequences, so I’m returning them.”
Jackpot.
Elysia nearly cheered at the system window that popped up above the compass and paint tube in her hand.
<sys> Evidence Acquired! (Progress 2/3) The evidence has been added to your inventory!
<sys> Evidence Acquired! (Progress 3/3) The evidence has been added to your inventory!
<sys> You have collected all the evidence.
*
Back in the present, Elysia dangled the items in her hand and spoke with a triumphant smile.
“There’s no getting out of this now.”
The man’s face darkened as he lowered his gaze. With an irritated flick of her hand, Elysia pushed her short hair behind her ear and sighed.
“It was a crime of passion, wasn’t it? You were quick on your feet to destroy the evidence, but the way you did it screamed of someone in a hurry. You tried to frame Siene, who was in there before you, using your fiancée as an excuse. But the person you were really worried about wasn't Marianne, it was yourself.”
“No.”
“Lie to me again and you’ll lose a hand—”
“El, please, calm down.”
The man who had just been cursed at by Elysia shifted his gaze to Marianne, who was standing beside him. The moment he saw the look of betrayal in her eyes, he smiled bitterly. Marianne, her eyes welling with tears, finally forced out in a choked voice.
“...Why...”
In that instant, his head snapped to the side with a sharp crack. The woman clutched her hand, breathing heavily, then turned away with a look of utter contempt.
Rayner, who had been staring at the floor with a hollow laugh, looked up and met the eyes of Elysia, who was covering her mouth with both hands, hiccupping.
He had tried to frame a complete stranger, so he deserved to get his ass kicked. He was such a bastard that she’d even thought she might lose her temper and beat him up herself one day. But seeing him get slapped at such an unexpected moment, by such an unexpected person, was startling.
Seeing Elysia at a loss for words, stunned by Marianne’s sudden slap, Rayner gave a small smirk and said in a tone of complete surrender.
“Fine. I’m the culprit.”
<sys> The culprit's statement has been acquired. The case is now closed.
<sys> 3,000 EXP acquired. You have leveled up.
Elysia Hemming (LV.5): HP 3,600 | DEF 625 | ATK 5,000
She had gained a huge amount of experience, but for some reason, it didn't feel satisfying—perhaps because the culprit looked like he was at death’s door. With a sour expression, Elysia let out a small, “Uh...” and darted her eyes toward Evan.
What do I do? she seemed to mouth. Evan just shrugged once before turning his gaze to Rayner.
He gave a bitter smile and looked at Elysia, who was a mess from digging through the dump. Shaking his head, he muttered.
“...I never thought you’d go through the trash yourself.”
“I can’t stand to see an innocent person take the fall.”
Elysia blew on her fingertips to get the dust off and studied Rayner’s face. He looked as frail as she’d thought; the slap hadn’t even been that hard. His face wasn’t even red or swollen. The only thing out of place was his expression.
Biting his lip lightly, he said.
“I’ll submit my withdrawal letter. The compensation... of course, I’ll be the one to pay it.”
“That’s a given, so don’t act like you’re doing us a favor. Anyway, what’s with this? Why are you being so cooperative all of a sudden?”
“Because she found out.”
The man staggered, barely catching himself against a wall. Rayner’s empty eyes stared down the hallway where Marianne had disappeared, then slowly closed.
“Now that Marianne knows, nothing matters anymore...”
*
The boy first met the girl when they were too young to even remember.
Rayner, who visited Baron Dupre’s estate with his father every season, naturally grew curious about the girl his age. In truth, their fathers had arranged the frequent meetings with that very goal in mind.
“Are we going again?”
“Yes. I received a painting I wish to gift him.”
Sitting in the carriage on the way to the Dupre estate, as he had so many times before, the boy pouted and grumbled. The last time, he had tried relentlessly to talk to the girl, but she hadn't said a single word back, leaving Rayner quite hurt.
“I think she’s a little strange. She doesn’t talk, she doesn’t answer my questions, she doesn’t even smile...”
“She’s just shy. She’s never met anyone her age besides you. Don’t you feel sorry for her? Be kind to her.”
“I don’t want to. She looks gloomy, too!”
“Now, now.”
What was there to feel sorry for? In his childish mind, the one to be pitied wasn’t Marianne, but himself, for having to talk endlessly to a girl with a blank face only to be ignored.
The carriage began to slow, signaling their arrival at the barony. A moment later, with a gentle jolt, he heard the servants unloading the enormous painting from the carriage.
Before getting out, his father looked at him with a stern expression.
“You don’t even know her well yet. How can you decide whether you like her or not?”
“...”
“When will you ever grow up... I’ll be in the drawing-room. Fix that look on your face before you come in. Understand?”
Baron Williams playfully pinched his pouting son’s lip before stepping out of the carriage with a smile. Left alone, the boy’s eyes darted around for a long while.
Hmph, fine. Then I’ll just have to observe her closely and find a reason that anyone would have to dislike her.
The boy giggled mischievously and bounded into the mansion with excited steps. There was no way he wouldn’t be able to find something to dislike about that girl with the pale face and jet-black hair.
He had visited the mansion so many times he knew the layout by heart. Baron Dupre would be in the drawing-room talking with his father, and that girl would be holed up in her room, moping again.
He just couldn’t understand her. She would freak out if he so much as opened a window and flinch away if he got too close. She was no fun, just annoying.
The boy clicked his tongue and was about to move on when he pricked up his ears at the sound of conversation coming from the drawing-room.
“What do you think, Marianne?”
“Please give me a little more time to look at it.”
Rayner froze. He hadn’t expected to hear the girl’s distinct voice coming from the drawing-room.
...Was her voice always that clear?
Her voice, filled with a powerful conviction, had a strange pull to it. Forgetting for a moment that he could have walked right into the room, Rayner peeked through the slightly ajar door.
“It’s not bad.”
“Hmm, ‘not bad’?”
“There are parts that could be better. But... it’s a good painting.”
The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking a bit shy, and lowered her head. With a gentle hand, she stroked the painting lying on the table. A single expression, fleeting as it was, flashed across her face. In that instant, it was like a dagger plunging straight into the boy’s heart.
That smile.
It wasn’t a wide grin, just a faint smile, so no one else in the room noticed. But Rayner, who had caught that brief moment, stood frozen in place.
She knows how to smile? What on earth could make a girl who never smiles, smile?
Rayner’s gaze followed Marianne’s to the object of her attention. A single painting, shimmering with an array of colors. To think that a simple mess of paint could make such a strange girl smile.
...But I couldn’t.
Soaked in a strange sense of defeat, the boy stood there for a long time, just watching Marianne’s face.
That evening, the boy began to throw a strange tantrum, demanding an art teacher. He grew curious about the painting—about art—that had made the girl who was always so sour to him smile.
And though the young boy would never have admitted it, there was another hope, too. The hope that one day, he might be the reason for the smile that briefly graced her face.