Chapter 83
Tyraine calmly declared:
“One of them is Baron Delos.”
Hearing those words, everything finally made sense. Cordelia gazed silently at Tyraine, who was putting his mask back on.
“So that’s why you showed up at this party, dressed in that ridiculous getup, just to snoop around?”
“It’d be troublesome if my face were exposed. The master of this house knows what I look like, and like you said, there could be others here who recognize me too.”
Cordelia teased him, saying he was just indulging his love for theatrics, but inwardly she felt unsettled.
What if Jasmine was involved somehow?
But after speaking with Jasmine, her thoughts shifted. When she met Tyraine again in the room upstairs, Cordelia added her own thoughts.
“Hey, listen. The traits you mentioned, some of them overlap with the suspects I pointed out. About three people, maybe.”
“What?!”
“So be honest with me. You’re still keeping something from me, aren’t you? Tell me properly. I’ll help you.”
Only after she put on a rare serious expression did Tyraine, looking bewildered, open his mouth.
“Well, that is…”
“Oh, what a pleasant gathering of familiar faces.”
A lively voice interrupted Cordelia’s attention. She quickly raised her fan to hide her lower face as she turned toward it.
Baron Demisen, Viscount Horell, and Count Ecilon joined them one after another. If it had just been those three, she wouldn’t have been so startled.
“Ah, allow me to introduce some acquaintances I just bonded with. They’re in the trading business.”
“Pleased to meet you. My name is Helio Modren. And this is my wife, Calypso Modren.”
“I’m Calypso. A pleasure to meet you all.”
The masked man greeting them with a solemn voice, and the shyly smiling woman by his side, both calling themselves husband and wife—the sight made Cordelia’s lips twitch as she struggled not to laugh.
Then suddenly, she caught the “husband’s” gaze as he turned his head.
“And may I know the name of this beautiful young lady?”
“…Cordelia Weitzen.”
“What a truly beautiful name. It suits you perfectly.”
Like hell it does.
The moment Cordelia saw Helio—no, Tyraine—wink discreetly at her while smoothly addressing the others, she realized she was too dumbfounded to even speak.
He wore a pressed hat and a mask, and his voice was lower and more resonant than usual. His manner of speech and vocabulary were completely different from the Tyraine she had just been with earlier. If you only heard the voice, you’d think he was a completely different man.
Instead of his usual roguish antics, Tyraine was acting the part of a dignified gentleman. Cordelia found it utterly grotesque but forced the smile off her face.
Tyraine blended naturally into the group. The woman at his side spoke hardly at all, and everyone simply assumed she was shy and thought nothing of it.
“Hazhan porcelain is the finest, don’t you agree? Such an elegant luster, and the patterns are particularly exquisite.”
“I don’t think the celadon imported from the Empire is bad either…”
Soon the conversation shifted toward art pieces. After all, nobles often had a strong desire to collect such luxuries to flaunt their wealth.
“By the way, I hear there’s a curious fad spreading in society. They say carrying a pendant painted with the face of the one you admire will bring good fortune.”
Demisen brought it up casually, and Iland agreed.
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Oh, what a charming fad. And what do the rest of you gentlemen and ladies think?”
When Tyraine asked with a mischievous smile, one by one people began to chime in.
“Well, my wife doesn’t like portraits very much.”
“I think it’s nice. Luck thanks to someone you adore? Can’t get better than that.”
“You all have too much time on your hands, believing such superstitions.”
“I don’t have a gentleman like that yet, unfortunately.”
Demisen, Roshiand, Iland, and Emilia spoke in turn. Horell shook his head.
“Well, I think it would be rather impolite. What do you say, Count Ecilon?”
“Not interested.”
His curt reply made the men grin knowingly.
“Oh? Normally you’d dismiss it as frivolous nonsense.”
“This vague attitude… seems like there is someone you admire.”
“Maybe you already have one, hmm?”
“Suspicious, indeed.”
“Didn’t you say there was nothing like that?”
Ecilon snapped irritably, but the lighthearted atmosphere ignored his protest. Cordelia tilted her head slightly as she noticed Emilia stealing glances at him.
What’s this? Is there something between those two?
“Come to think of it, I’ve heard Lady Cordelia rarely commissions portraits.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
Cordelia nodded lightly at the sudden question aimed at her. Unless it was a family portrait, she didn’t particularly like having her face painted alone.
“What a shame. Any artist who met you would surely burn with artistic passion.”
Yeah, I know one like that.
“Indeed. Who knows, maybe someone would even beg to paint you for free, just for the privilege.”
Wow, dead on.
“Well, it’s not like I despise portraits altogether…”
Cordelia blinked her eyes, feigning slight sadness, and trailed off.
“It’s just… there are quite a few who dislike me. If my face became too well known, it could be dangerous. Once, I almost got into serious trouble…”
“Heavens, is that true? What kind of scoundrel would dare such a thing?!”
“Well, it’s just that…”
Feigning pitiful innocence, Cordelia scanned the expressions of those around her.
Rando and Roshiand looked outraged, Iland frowned, and Demisen wore a grave face. Horell’s eyebrows were furrowed with pity, while Ecilon’s face had stiffened. Emilia had been hiding behind her fan for a while, making her expression hard to read.
“Ha… even now, when I think back on it, my heart races. Honestly, stairs frighten me a little now.”
Cordelia fluttered her lashes dramatically, dropping a bold hint—as if she knew exactly who had pushed her.
Tyraine frowned in displeasure, but she ignored it. Sometimes when you bet, you had to play big.
Sharply watching the group, Cordelia caught a fleeting sign of agitation. Though they kept their face composed, their trembling hands gave them away.
See? That’s what happens when you live with guilt.
“You must have suffered terribly.”
“I hope you haven’t been too wounded in heart by such a vile act, my lady.”
Cordelia’s lashes fluttered faintly as she looked at the men who once warned her her beauty was a weapon, now offering her consolation.
It wasn’t hard to steer the conversation.
“Thank you. I only hope all of you also avoid going about alone. You never know what might happen.”
She kept her words vague, leaving room for imagination.
“Though I suppose you’ve been moving about together, so there shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Ah, but we do sometimes walk off alone.”
“That’s true. Even today, some of us left the group for a while, didn’t we?”
“Yes, earlier too…”
“Viscount Horell and I were together.”
“You two are always close.”
Ecilon answered curtly, while Horell smiled and threw his arm around him.
“That’s right. We were wandering around together earlier, too. That’s when we ran into Miss Jasmine, in fact. Isn’t that right, Miss Jasmine?”
“Uh, yes…”
“The way she spun around with her water glass was so brisk and cold. Well, I suppose she couldn’t keep Lady Cordelia waiting, so it’s understandable.”
In the midst of the cheerful atmosphere, Cordelia and Tyraine exchanged glances. Tyraine casually scratched at his temple with a finger.
A signal: I’ve got enough.
Cordelia, seeing it, silently took a sip of the water Jasmine had given her.
The lukewarm liquid slid down her throat, leaving behind a faintly unpleasant sensation.
The first time he pushed her, he was horrified.
Though it was done in a moment of impulse, when he saw her lying at the bottom of the stairs bleeding, reality hit him hard.
Then fear came crashing in. His hands shook violently as he pressed them to his chest, frantically glancing around. Seeing no one, he stared down the stairwell for a long time before snapping back to himself.
From that height, there was no way she could’ve survived. Faced with the choice of confessing or not, he chose to turn away.
But then—
“Miss Jasmine, you were there?”
Like karmic retribution, the woman had returned unharmed. Not a single scratch on her.
He nearly chewed his nails from the anxiety but forced himself to endure. Any sign of unease would arouse suspicion. It’s fine. She doesn’t know it was me. She can’t possibly know.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell. No one saw, so they’ll believe it was just an accident.”
Really? She wouldn’t tell? Even when the woman came back perfectly fine? Surely the balance of power decided whose side people would take.
And that woman… she returned so casually, speaking of stairs, hinting not to walk alone—dropping those subtle reminders that made his heart lurch in terror.
She must know already, mustn’t she? That it was me who pushed her.
No… if she knew, I’d have been arrested already. Right. She never saw my face.
I’ve been handling it well. I just have to keep denying it. Then no one will ever know…
“You’ve wandered quite far. Where exactly are you going?”
The soft voice calling to him snapped him out of his thoughts. He had only come to the back garden to clear his head, but it seemed he’d lingered too long.
He quickly looked around, but no one else was there. Despite it still being daylight, a chill ran through him, and he hugged his arms around himself. The woman’s warning not to be alone flitted through his mind.
The masked man watching him wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, yet not familiar either. Stammering, he whispered the name:
“Ba… Baron Modren?”
“Well, that’s the name I go by here.”
Tyraine drew out his true identification tag before the man’s eyes, his voice soft yet firm.
“My name is Tyraine May. Miss Emilia Brodin, you are under suspicion of attempted murder of Miss Cordelia Weitzen. You’ll need to come with me.”
Emilia’s face turned deathly pale.
