The Girl Running the Bathhouse (3)
Della's lips were pressed tightly shut, and her hands trembled faintly.
"What's wrong, Della?" Francois asked softly, sensing something amiss. But Della just stood there motionless, as if she hadn't heard a thing.
"Della?" When Francois lightly touched her shoulder, Della finally snapped out of it, lifting her head like she'd just woken from a dream.
"Huh...? Yes...?"
"What kind of letter has you acting like this?"
"Oh... no, it's nothing." Della forced an awkward smile and crumpled the letter into her pocket.
"Don't worry. It's really nothing." With that, she hurried up to the third floor.
"What's gotten into her..." Idi muttered slowly, watching Della's retreating figure on the stairs.
Della kept working as if nothing was wrong until closing time.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Well, maybe not...
Della, who'd just dropped and shattered a plate, panicked and bowed apologetically in every direction. When Idi and Pelle rushed over to clean up the shards, Della tried to help but ended up cutting her hand.
"Ow...!"
Seeing the blood on her finger, Della's face darkened with despair.
Pelle grabbed her shoulder.
"Della. Go up to your room."
"No, I'm fine..."
"We'll handle things here..."
Idi and Pelle pushed Della toward the stairs. Sniffling weakly, she trudged up without protest.
I'd watched the whole thing from start to finish.
"Bertrand. Think it's because of that letter from earlier?" Francois spoke up from the kitchen doorway.
"Probably."
"I have no idea what it said to make her like this."
Francois might not know, but I had a pretty good guess. If that's what it was about, Della was actually holding it together remarkably well.
"Francois. I'll head upstairs for a bit."
"Go ahead."
I left the dining hall and climbed to the third floor.
Della's door was closed. Muffled sobs came from the other side.
I cleared my throat and knocked.
"Della. Mind if I come in?"
Footsteps approached, and the door opened. Della stared at me in surprise.
"Master...?"
Her eyes were brimming with tears, and streaks stained her cheeks.
"Sorry... I shouldn't have come up without asking..."
"No. That's not why I'm here." I shook my head, and Della looked puzzled.
"Just wanted to talk to you."
"Oh... okay. Come in..."
Della stepped back hesitantly, and I entered the room she shared with Idi. It was clean and smelled nice. Della's desk was piled with books she studied late into the night. Idi's desk... was spotless. Nothing there. Huh, what's that...?
In stark contrast to Della's neatly made bed, Idi's was a mess. The blanket was rolled up haphazardly, the pillow tossed crookedly to the foot of the bed. And the wardrobe... sigh... best not to think about it. I'd heard Pelle hauled a cart full of junk out of there last time... and it was still like this? Did she blow every coin she earned on clothes? Was she really planning to work at the inn until she keeled over with no retirement in sight...?
"Idi won't let anyone touch the wardrobe, not even when we offer to organize it... I don't know what's in there, but only Pelle can break her stubbornness..."
Della fidgeted with her fingers, looking apologetic as if it were her fault.
"Nah. Everyone's got their own way..."
I averted my eyes from the chaotic bed and wardrobe, sitting in a chair. Della sat in hers, facing me. She subtly shifted to block her desk drawer with her knee.
She'd done the same last time I came in... Something's definitely in there.
"Della."
"Yes, Master."
"Something wrong? You're making mistakes you never do. And you don't look well."
"I'm sorry... I'll pay for the broken plate out of my wages..."
Tears welled up again, so I waved it off.
"No, no. Not what I meant. I'm just worried about you."
"It's nothing. I'm fine... please don't worry..."
I stared at her forced smile for a moment, then spoke.
"That letter this afternoon. From Bue, right?"
"Huh...? How did you know...?"
Della jolted back in her chair with a loud scrape.
"Something happen at that inn there?"
"Oh... well... um..."
Della bit her lip, avoiding my eyes as she struggled for words.
"It's okay, Della. You don't have to say if it's tough. But I'd like you to tell me. So I can help."
At my gentle coaxing, she finally met my gaze and spoke haltingly.
"Master... Dad..."
She couldn't continue, tears streaming down her face.
My guess was right. Della's father was dead.
I waited patiently as she cried, then took the letter she offered.
It was from Bue's city hall, stating that her father had been stabbed to death in a brawl at a gambling den, and procedures needed to be followed. It outlined everything from funeral and burial to inheriting his debts.
The debts were mine anyway, so no issue there... A funeral, though... As far as I knew, Della had no other family besides her father. So she'd have to handle it all alone.
"Della... why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm sorry, Master... I didn't want to burden you... And we're so busy right now, I couldn't just leave..."
"Della."
I reached out and gently stroked her shoulder. Her nose red, she met my eyes.
"Do I seem like the type who'd mind?"
"No... you're not... I'm sorry..."
"Pack your things now. We're going to Bue."
"It's okay... you don't need to come..."
I gripped both her shoulders.
"We're going together, Della."
"Master..."
"Hurry. The others will understand. It'll be fine."
Della nodded and stood, her tears splashing to the floor.
The staff, upon hearing the situation, all urged Della to head to Bue immediately.
"You should've said something right away, Della sis!" Marim grumbled, shoving Della's back.
"Go quick... I'll summon the hellhorse for you..."
"But using the hellhorse means... you can't heat the bathwater..."
Della, eyes puffy from crying, looked troubled as she glanced at me. Ukun bellowed.
"I've already filled the hot water tubs, so quit worrying about that crap!"
"Della. Don't worry about the inn. We can manage." Francois smiled, patting her shoulder.
"Thank you..."
Pelle stood by the inn door. Della gave her an apologetic look...
"Forget it. Go."
Before Della could speak, Pelle curtly opened the door.
A pitch-black hellhorse was already summoned in the courtyard. I lifted Della onto it.
"Where are you two off to?"
Celereja was just returning from the temple, entering the courtyard.
"Della's father passed. Heading to Bue briefly."
"Oh... hurry then."
Celereja quickly stepped aside to let the hellhorse pass.
The hellhorse shot south like it was sliding on ice.
The hellhorse arrived in Bue in no time. Guards gawked and panicked at its fearsome appearance, but my identification got us through smoothly.
We headed straight to Bue's city hall. Even late evening, someone should be on duty.
Luckily, officials were still there, and we got the full story on Della's father. After she left the inn, he'd kept gambling, blowing all his money until he was broke. Then he double-pledged the already-collateralized inn...? What a lunatic! Did that rat bastard think the debt vanished with him?
Anyway, he pledged the inn again, gambled more, and when he was about to lose that too, he went berserk and got killed.
"Where's the body?"
"At guard headquarters. It's a murder case, so they handled initial processing."
"Got it. Anything else we need to confirm or handle?"
"Death registration and such, but you're probably not in a state for it now. Come back after the funeral. The family needs to ID the body anyway."
"Thanks."
I noted the location of a nearby crematorium from the official. It had staff on site and accepted late-night services for an extra fee.
We left city hall and went to guard HQ, where we took custody of Della's father's body.
"Confirm it's your father."
Della reached for the cloth covering the corpse but pulled back and turned away.
"Sniff... I can't..."
"It's okay, Della. I'll check first."
I patted her shoulder and lifted the face cloth. There lay Della's father, the stocky, tough-looking man I'd seen half a year ago, eyes closed. His face was bloodless, pale as flour, with a massive gash on his neck.
"Straight through the throat. Instant death," the guard whispered so Della wouldn't hear.
A brawl where someone nails the throat in one go... The killer wasn't some average gambler.
"Della. We have to confirm."
Comforting her with an arm around her shoulders, she turned shakily. She glanced at the exposed face and turned away again.
"Yes... that's my dad..."
Unable to say more, Della collapsed into my arms, sobbing loudly. Even a shit father like that was heartbreaking for the world's kindest girl. I couldn't understand it myself, but who was I to judge?
Holding her, I nodded to the guard, who covered the face. Della wept like a child for a while longer.
Once her sobs subsided, I suggested moving the body to an inn for now. Della shook her head.
"No one's coming to the funeral anyway... Better to cremate right away. For him... and me..."
Her voice hoarse, she whispered.
"Alright. Whatever you want."
The helpful guards lent us a cart for the body. I loaded her father onto it and hitched it to the hellhorse, which could trot like a normal horse when needed.
The guards watched from afar, intrigued but too scared to approach.
As we were about to leave, the guard who'd first shown us the body approached Della with a worried look.
"Still... you'd best be careful for a while."