♡ TL: Khadija SK
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Theodore was indulging in his pleasant musings when Umberto stepped onto the balcony, his voice tinged with mild displeasure:
“You seem in good spirits.”
Theodore turned his head and offered the cigar. Umberto extinguished it and tossed it aside before returning to the balcony.
“Why do you look so annoyed?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re clearly upset.”
“How could I dare show such insolence toward you, Your Grace?”
Theodore chuckled lightly and shook his head.
“I’ll give you a hefty bonus. You’ve been swamped with the banned books classification, so you deserve a promotion.”
Umberto’s face visibly brightened.
“I’ve gathered information on the person you asked me to investigate.”
His reporting tone softened. As expected, work demanded reward.
The task Theodore had assigned was to track down a specific individual. Someone Lord Carlson had accused during a council meeting of spreading rebellious ideas.
According to Carlson, this person crafted malicious pamphlets to entice young schoolgirls, with his eldest daughter, Joanna, among the victims.
He’d even claimed this figure took money for these “worthless” pamphlets—a judgment solely Carlson’s—branding them a swindler and dangerous criminal.
That day, Theodore had picked up some of the pamphlets Carlson discarded, read them, and developed an interest in their author, albeit in a different light.
It was pure personal curiosity, so he’d asked Umberto to investigate and then forgotten about it—until the results arrived now.
“Thank you for your effort.”
After brief praise, Theodore turned his head to glance at the papers Umberto handed over. Then he frowned.
“They’re blank?”
Theodore couldn’t hide his disappointment at the information that didn’t even fill half a page.
“Blank? I wrote a few lines.”
Umberto extended the papers for Theodore to see, but the gathered details remained scant.
“Just explain it verbally.”
Theodore recoiled, as if unwilling to even read those few lines.
“Let’s start with the conclusion: I didn’t find him.”
Theodore pressed his lips into a straight line.
Lately, many people concealed their identities, and failing to locate them was common.
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. Explain what you found in detail.”
“The pamphlets you showed me are distributed extremely irregularly. They seem to come out every two weeks, but that’s a rough guess—the days and times vary widely.”
“We can’t catch the distributor. I see. Next?”
“After a week of surveillance, I contacted one of the distributors. The person delivering the pamphlets to Joanna, Carlson’s eldest daughter.”
Theodore nodded, signaling he was listening.
“He wouldn’t tell me where he got the pamphlets, so I had to… exert some effort.”
Theodore’s expression instantly hardened.
“Umberto, you know better! I said no confinement, assault, or threats against ordinary civilians.”
“So I spent a lot of money instead.”
Theodore sighed in relief. Money was easily spent.
“That’s fine.”
“Yes. But this person said he receives the pamphlets too. In other words, he’s just a third-tier middleman.”
“Please summarize and explain it all at once.”
Umberto replied, “Very well,” and began.
Above the distributor was someone handing out the pamphlets. Tracing upward led to a press producing them.
The printer was known as “Nick,” a mechanic at the press.
When Umberto met Nick, he felt hopeful he’d finally reach the elusive writer.
But Nick claimed he’d never met the writer directly—they used a postbox.
The astute Umberto sensed Nick was lying and tried to persuade him.
Unlike the distributor, who easily revealed the main supplier’s name, Nick kept his mouth shut like a clam until the end.
Ultimately, Umberto stationed someone to watch Nick’s surroundings.
“H. That’s the writer.”
Umberto suddenly declared with a grave tone. The atmosphere suggested he’d nabbed a major criminal in a serious case, but in reality, he hadn’t even uncovered the writer’s real name.
“That’s disappointing.”
At Theodore’s blunt assessment, Umberto lowered his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Still, you worked hard. No need to apologize.”
“I think I could learn more with extra time. Should I keep investigating?”
Theodore sank into thought for a moment.
H was going to great lengths to hide their identity, varying delivery times irregularly and rotating distributors periodically.
Was it right to disregard that effort and expose them?
Theodore pondered seriously.
In the past, he’d have unmasked H without hesitation, but his perspective had shifted.
Because he now knew someone desperate to conceal their identity.
That someone was Hazel.
Exposing her identity had posed a threat, a danger that could upend her entire life.
Perhaps H had reasons, like Hazel, for needing anonymity.
‘Like Miss Hazel… could H be Hazel too?’
Theodore suddenly linked the two and laughed softly.
Physically, it was impossible for Hazel to translate, write enlightenment essays for schoolgirls, and critique nobles simultaneously.
‘H put immense effort into their writing.’
Hazel’s energy in translating was no small feat either.
If she were doing both, she’d be bedridden by now, per Theodore’s logic.
‘What a ridiculous idea. Three people as one.’
Yet in his mind, the names—H, Hazel, Haze—began to merge and wouldn’t separate.
On reflection, H’s writings seemed to carry Hazel’s scent.
“Your Grace? What should I do now?”
Umberto interrupted Theodore’s thoughts. The timing was apt. Theodore looked up.
Raising a hand for a moment’s pause, he turned toward the garden.
He gripped the railing and took several deep breaths, repeating the inhale and exhale.
Finally, Theodore reached a decision:
“Put it on hold for now.”
Even if not for Hazel’s sake, he didn’t want to force someone hiding their identity into the open.
“Understood. Also…”
“Also?”
“There’s more to report. Something quite critical, actually.”
Theodore straightened from his slightly slouched posture.
“Speak.”
“It’s a rumor.”
At that word, Theodore’s brow furrowed instantly.
Rumors from Umberto were never good.
“Should I not say it?”
Umberto eyed Theodore’s expression warily.
“No, tell me.”
Umberto swallowed hard.
He’d inwardly hoped Theodore would refuse to hear it.
Even if he heard it elsewhere later and got angry, delayed anger was preferable.
“I’ll tell you.”
Theodore raised a brow in confusion and nodded.
“They say you and Miss Hazel have split up.”
“What?”
As expected, Theodore erupted in fury.
“Who’s spreading such absurd rumors?”
His voice was calm, but the low tone was enough to freeze the balcony air with its intensity.
“I don’t know the rumor’s source. But…”
“But what?”
Umberto took a deep breath.
“Since you two rarely go out together, and you haven’t visited the Easton household in a while, well…”
“So this false rumor is my fault?”
Theodore’s anger flared.
He even began acting on emotion rather than reason.
It was a rare sight, and Umberto cautiously stepped back.
This unfamiliar Theodore was intimidating.
“Find the rumor’s source and report back. I won’t give you much time. Bring the information within two hours.”
“Yes, I’ll do it!”
The timeframe was tight, but refusal wasn’t an option.
Umberto dashed off swiftly. Theodore roughly wiped his face and slammed the railing hard.
Punishing the rumor’s spreader was secondary; his priority was his relationship with Hazel.
But with Viscount Easton’s opposition, even meeting Hazel wasn’t simple.
“We don’t meet? We danced at the masquerade!”
Theodore felt wronged.
He’d nearly kissed her that day, and they’d grown closer, yet the rumors ran counter to that.
By the way, had Hazel heard this rumor too?
If so, what did she say about it?
Theodore was intensely curious about Hazel’s reaction.
***
“is that so?”
“Sister, that’s all you’ve got to say?”
Charlotte exploded in anger.
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