Chapter 20
The detective office was unlike anything Agnès had ever seen.
The sofa looked luxurious but sagged like an old cushion; the air was thick with perfume strong enough to make her dizzy; and the woman across from her — the owner, Rebecca — wore rings on every finger and an expression that screamed street-smart survivor.
Agnès sat straight-backed, trying her best not to stare around like a naive child.
Rebecca rubbed her hands together, taking a slightly angled seat opposite her. She’d learned from experience never to sit directly across from rich clients — too many of them had thrown ashtrays at her in anger.
“So, what brings a fine lady like you to my little shop? Some bothersome trouble, perhaps?”
“Not exactly trouble. I’m looking for someone.”
“Ah, don’t be so stiff! You look like you come from one of the top families. Talk comfortably.”
“No, thank you. I prefer it this way.”
Agnès smiled politely but firmly. Rebecca chuckled awkwardly, though she didn’t seem offended.
“As you wish, my lady. So — who exactly are we looking for?”
She leaned forward curiously, only for a tall figure to step smoothly between them.
Sir Pavel’s sharp eyes warned her: don’t get too close.
Rebecca raised her hands with a sticky tsk of her tongue.
“Hey, hey, I was just asking. No need for that glare.”
Before she could say more, Agnès looked up at Pavel apologetically.
“Sir Pavel, I know this is troublesome, but… could you please step outside for a bit?”
“That would be… difficult.”
“I thought you might say that.”
His stern expression softened immediately.
“How could I leave you alone, my lady? I was ordered to protect you — and besides, I’d worry.”
He was surprisingly warm and open. Agnès had always imagined knights as grim and rigid, but Pavel’s easy manners made her feel guilty for asking.
“But what I’m about to discuss… I really don’t want anyone else to hear it.”
“Even if I have ears, I can pretend not to hear. Even if I have a mouth, I can pretend not to speak.”
“I don’t mean I don’t trust you. It’s just — this matter is truly private. Please. It’ll only take a moment.”
Pavel hesitated, then nodded.
He knew this office — shady, yes, but not dangerous. It handled the nobles’ messy errands, not outright crimes. Rebecca, for all her sharpness, looked harmless enough.
“Very well. I’ll stand right outside the door. Any farther is out of the question.”
“Thank you. I’ll be quick.”
Lizzie, too, looked uneasy, but Agnès gave her a reassuring nod. Finally, both she and Pavel stepped out.
Once the door closed, Agnès lowered her voice.
“The person I’m looking for is a commoner named Penny. She has green eyes, and about six years ago… she gave birth to a child.”
Just saying it made Agnès’s stomach twist. It was a truth she’d never wanted to speak aloud.
“That child belongs to the current Count Overhan.”
Rebecca didn’t even blink. To her, noble affairs involving secret lovers were about as common as spilled wine.
Still, business was business. She sighed and scratched her head.
“That’s a wide search. Got anything else? Age, job, district?”
“Hmm… She lived here in the capital, I think. They must have met when Count Overhan was visiting.”
“A prostitute?”
“No. I don’t know exactly what she did, but she wasn’t… that kind of woman.”
“Shame. If I knew her work, I could narrow it down fast.”
Rebecca shrugged.
“And what do you want done once I find her? That changes the price and the method, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you want revenge, I can have her dragged here by her hair. That sort of thing.”
Agnès’s face went pale. She looked horrified — as if the idea had never crossed her mind.
“No. I don’t want to meet her. I only want to know… where she is. How she’s living.”
It sounded almost too innocent, even fake — but Rebecca didn’t press. She’d met plenty of nobles who wanted their dirty work done quietly.
So she replied in her usual exaggerated tone:
“Oh, of course! My mistake, my lady. I almost committed a great offense!”
“So, to confirm — I’m looking for a woman named Penny, green eyes, commoner, gave birth six years ago to Count Overhan’s child. Yes?”
“Yes. And please… keep this absolutely secret. I can’t let anyone find out.”
“Secrecy is our specialty! We guard our clients’ privacy with our lives!”
Agnès doubted that — but she trusted one thing: money. For people like Rebecca, secrets were valuable only if someone paid for them. As long as no one offered a higher price, her secret was safe.
And really — who would ever want to bring this one to light?
Even Agnès didn’t want it exposed.
She just needed a card to play against Rickman — something to use when the time came.
As Rebecca filled out her notes, Agnès clenched her trembling hands in her lap, trying to hide how fast her heart was beating.
For the first time, she had said it aloud:
She was not Noah’s birth mother.
***
Agnès had never wanted to marry Rickman Overhan.
But she’d also never imagined she’d be allowed to marry someone she did want.
Other noble daughters received portraits and information cards — a list of suitable bachelors to choose from.
Agnès had been given no such choice.
So when her family told her she’d be marrying Count Overhan, she hadn’t protested.
He wasn’t the worst she could imagine.
He was well-groomed, wealthy, and though he had a taste for luxury, he could afford it. He was ten years older, but that, too, was tolerable.
For that reason, Agnès had felt she owed him gratitude.
It wasn’t a happy marriage, but neither was it scandalous.
No one pointed fingers or whispered “tragic bride” behind her back — and that was enough.
She decided she would do her duty and live quietly as his wife.
Then came the wedding night.
After changing out of her gown and into a new nightdress, she was led into Rickman’s bedroom.
The room was empty, cold. She sat carefully on the bed, staring blankly at the walls.
Her stepmother had lectured her endlessly on what to do on a wedding night — how to please a husband — but Agnès couldn’t bring herself to follow such vulgar instructions.
She planned to do nothing.
To sit still and let things happen, like the doll her husband had purchased.
Rickman entered soon after, slightly drunk from the reception. He swayed a little but didn’t shout or stumble.
He looked at her for a moment, then sat beside her.
“No need to be nervous. This won’t be the kind of wedding night you’ve imagined.”
Agnès glanced at him quietly. She hadn’t imagined one at all.
“What do you mean?”
“I already have an heir. You’ll treat him as your own and raise him well. Understand?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded silently.
“Yes.”
“In three months, we’ll tell everyone you’re pregnant. From then on, you’ll stay inside. Go out only for brief walks — enough to avoid suspicion, but never without a cloak.”
“Yes.”
“Remember: this secret must never leave this room. Not to the Everchen family, not to our son, not even to your maids.”
