Episode 07
“How can you say that? I was at the scene myself. And Cherry Sinclair dominates the front page every single day—how am I not supposed to see it?”
Eden snapped back as he folded the newspaper with an incredulous look. Inspector Marcel, watching him, shook his head slowly.
“Why throw your life into investigations like this? You’d make police commissioner someday even if you only did the bare minimum.”
Eden’s father, the Duke of Lancaster, had never approved of his son’s decision to renounce his title and become a police officer. But blood and pedigree did not simply vanish, and within the force, Eden’s rapid promotions were treated as a foregone conclusion.
“So there’s no need to go stirring up trouble by poking around the Sinclairs,” Marcel warned him.
That was how dangerous the Sinclair family was.
“I didn’t become a police officer to be commissioner,” Eden replied coolly.
“If I wanted prestige, I would’ve just inherited the Dukedom of Lancaster.”
Eden was a man with an almost excessive sense of duty. In many ways, he was unusual—abandoning a ducal title for the badge, and behaving nothing like a nobleman in his rough manners and careless attitude.
Still, even if he was a little crude and irreverent, no one questioned his ability. A prodigy with both blade and gun—that was the nickname he’d earned at Rubridge Benton College, the royal academy of Graydon.
“More importantly, Inspector,” Eden continued, “did you read today’s Benton Daily? There’s not a single word about that monster.”
Marcel sighed, his face worn with fatigue.
“Orders from above. No unnecessary panic until we understand what we’re dealing with. You should stop digging too deeply as well.”
Eden briefly considered asking which ‘higher-ups’ had issued the order—but he already had a pretty good idea. It felt like knowing the answer before even asking the question.
Then Marcel noticed something.
“But what’s that brooch you’re holding?”
A glittering ornament lay in Eden’s palm—a lavish brooch decorated with a golden flower and a rubellite gemstone.
“There was a woman,” Eden said quietly.
“One who killed the monster with an axe.”
He was certain she was a woman.
That lively, sweet voice—like marbles rolling together—could belong to no one else.
What lingered most vividly in his memory were her eyes. Her face had been concealed by a mask, leaving only her gaze visible. Eyes as brilliant as molten gold burned into his mind.
“She killed it… with an axe?” Marcel exclaimed. “Did you see how big that thing was?”
“I know. That’s exactly what makes it strange. My younger sister witnessed it herself. Even a grown man would’ve struggled—but she did it alone.”
“A woman… alone,” Marcel murmured. “That is strange.”
As Marcel stared in disbelief, Eden lifted the brooch slightly.
Engraved upon it were two initials.
[C. S.]
Even if that woman had saved Aurora’s life, she was still a suspicious figure who fled the scene. And though it was nothing more than a hunch, Eden felt she might be connected to the unidentified monster as well.
C. S… the same initials as Cherry Sinclair.
And the eye color, too.
The thought struck him—and Eden let out a short, incredulous laugh.
It was absurd. Cherry Sinclair loathed remote, dangerous neighborhoods like that. She was frail, delicate—hardly someone who’d wander into such a place.
He handed the newspaper to a nearby constable and stepped out into the yard of the mansion at No. 61.
Behind him, Inspector Marcel called out.
“Where are you going?”
“I received a tip about a large shipment of illegal firearms smuggled in from the Kingdom of Briwood. Thanks to you, Inspector, it seems I have nothing left to do here.”
“And who gave you that tip?”
Eden pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.
“I’m about to find out. I’ll be back.”
His manners weren’t exactly polished, but he did offer a proper farewell before leaving.
* * *
Benton. Westmoor. Honduff. Then Kintney.
Three stops from Benton Station to Kintney Station. From there, a carriage ride deeper into the mountains led to Brunel.
No cars. No trams.
Standing there, I realized just how refined my life in the capital had been.
Still, the train was fast—we left in the morning and arrived by afternoon.
I finally made it.
Brunel—the village where I would build my shelter.
Shading my eyes, I looked up.
On a hill at the village outskirts stood a solitary mansion, perched like a fortress.
The novel had mentioned only one such mansion—the remote estate where Vanilla once lived. Thick trees concealed most of it; the chimney was barely visible. It looked like something straight out of an American horror film.
Looks like a monster could crawl out of there any second.
I swallowed.
The place felt cold, as though it exhaled chill air.
The mansion belonged to Vanilla, and I was to purchase it after being introduced by Brunel’s village chief.
So it was hers.
As I’d said before, it was perfectly positioned—a fortified hilltop estate, village in front, forest behind, ideal for gathering supplies. The village itself, though small, had everything necessary for survival: a grocer, general store, clinic, weapon shop, restaurant, and inn.
You could turn the entire place into a survival camp.
If only I could buy the whole village.
Of course, some things couldn’t be bought with money.
After circling the mansion once, I waited for Vanilla.
She never came.
After asking around, I learned she was away and wouldn’t return until tomorrow.
Not a great start. Feels like something bad’s going to happen.
With an uneasy feeling lingering, I settled for spending the night at the village inn.
* * *
That night, in the capital of Benton—
Eden seized a man by the collar in a dead-end alley.
Then he drew his baton and swung.
Thud.
“Ugh!”
The man collapsed. Eden wiped his face wearily and sat astride the man’s lower back.
“Do you know who I am?” Eden muttered, running a hand through his hair.
The man could only groan.
Eden drew his revolver and flipped open the cylinder. Three bullets loaded. He pulled fresh rounds from his pocket and slid them in.
“I’m not supposed to be the one chasing trash like you,” he said flatly.
“So what does it mean that I came personally?”
“It means you’re screwed.”
The profanity sounded strangely crude coming from someone who looked every bit a gentleman.
The man had been caught in the middle of a deal with an illegal arms trader.
“Talk. Most of the guns smuggled in from Briwood are heading to some backwater village, right? You don’t know where yet.”
In Graydon, civilian gun ownership was illegal. This was absolutely worth investigating.
Eden spun the loaded cylinder.
The clicking sound made the man shudder.
“I—I really don’t know! I just receive the goods and pass them along!”
“You expect me to believe that?” Eden snapped.
“You were caught red-handed, you bastard.”
He tapped the man’s head lightly with the muzzle. Sweat soaked the man’s collar.
“We’ve confirmed Howard the lawyer is involved. Is this the Sinclair family’s doing?”
The name Sinclair carried weight rivaling even the House of Lancaster.
Eden had seen it himself—Jose, an arms expert from Briwood under surveillance, meeting secretly with Harrison Howard.
No proof. But the suspicion was overwhelming.
And Cherry Sinclair won’t take my calls.
As if deliberately avoiding him.
“The Sinclair heiress took out a loan of one hundred million gold and vanished. Is that connected?”
The man only groaned in pain.
Eden pulled out a notebook.
Inside was a newspaper clipping.
Golden eyes that shimmered like finely set gold. Cherry-colored—deep pink—curly hair. A bright smile beneath a tiny cocktail hat.
The woman known as “The Star Candy Lady.”
It was easy to see why.
Wherever she stood, eyes were drawn to her.
And unfortunately—
She was exactly Eden’s type.
But…
Rumors painted her as frivolous. A party-loving spendthrift drowning in scandal. Indecisive, incompetent—unfit to lead the Sinclair family.
The kind of person Eden despised most.
And now, possibly tied to arms smuggling.
Cherry Sinclair…
Eden hated plans going awry. He hated unanswered questions.
The monster incident. The guns. All of it.
But the police chief had already buried the case.
The Sinclair family made him who he is.
Cherry Sinclair irritated him.
And Eden was the kind of man who couldn’t rest until whatever irritated him stood right in front of his eyes.
His cold gaze dropped to the man beneath him.
“I’ve got a good idea.”
