Chapter 13

Why had Lucy lied? Which part of her words had been false? Was it the part where she claimed she hadn’t known that Sir Lau was aware of the Baron’s affair? Or was it the errand she claimed to have sent him on?

And what exactly was that errand?

If it was significant enough for her to personally ask a knight to do it, then it couldn’t have been something ordinary. She had said it was something “embarrassing” for others to see—but more than that, wasn’t it something that could not be seen by others?

For example…

“Something like poison…”

Charlotte felt dizzy. No. No way. She was sure that wasn’t the case. People who didn’t know the full story might misunderstand, but Lucy would never do something like that.

No… No, I must be overthinking this. Just because someone was sent to a pharmacy doesn’t mean they were buying poison. It was unusual to use a knight for errands, but if it was Sir Lau, he might have offered to do it himself. Even Miss May had said that Sir Lau took on all sorts of menial tasks as if he were a servant.

But… Lucy had lied about something.

Suppressing the storm of thoughts in her head, Charlotte trudged forward. She stepped back inside the mansion and stopped a passing maid, asking where Superintendent Henry was.

The maid shook her head, saying she wasn’t sure, then turned to head outside.

“…Wait a moment.”

Charlotte abruptly snatched the bag from the maid’s hands. The force of it made the maid stumble, but apologizing wasn’t even on Charlotte’s mind.

It was a paper bag filled with trash. Without hesitation, she reached inside, rummaging through its contents. When she couldn’t find what she was looking for immediately, she upended the entire bag onto the marble floor. Dust and discarded items scattered across the pristine surface.

The maid wrinkled her nose instinctively, stepping back in distaste. Charlotte, however, paid no mind. Kneeling on the floor, she sifted through the mess, her hands trembling.

No. No, it can’t be. I must have seen wrong. And yet…

Then, finally, she found it.

Charlotte shut her eyes tightly.

A sharp needle gleamed under the light, reflecting like a flickering flame—like a life burning bright, or the malice seeking to extinguish it.

With shaking fingers, she slowly lifted the syringe. She kept repeating to herself that it was a misunderstanding, that she was mistaken. But all those fragile denials crumbled into dust.

Whose was this? What was it used for? And why?

The Baron had died of poisoning. That much was certain—his stomach contents had reacted to silver, proving the presence of poison. But that only confirmed that he had ingested a toxin. What if the amount had been too small to be fatal? What if his actual cause of death was something else?

Had there been an injection mark on his body?

Charlotte racked her brain, trying to recall every detail of the autopsy. But no matter how hard she strained her memory, nothing came to mind. She had been so focused on confirming the poisoning that she hadn’t thoroughly checked for other possible causes of death.

Idiot. She needed to return to the autopsy facility immediately and re-examine the Baron’s body.

Gripping the syringe tightly, Charlotte sprang to her feet—only to lock eyes with the maid, who was watching her with a strange expression.

Ah. Only then did she realize what a mess she had made.

“S-Sorry.”

Hurriedly, Charlotte tucked the syringe into her coat and started gathering the scattered trash back into the paper bag. But no matter how much she cleaned, the dust and stains left on the marble couldn’t be erased completely. She glanced around, searching for something to wipe the floor with.

And then—

She locked eyes with Henry.

“…Ahem.”

Oh, for god’s sake.

Charlotte stiffened. Henry stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, watching her with amusement.

Her face burned as she scrambled to her feet. The maid, ever composed, took the bag from her hands and smiled kindly.

“I’ll take care of the rest.”

“…Thank you.”

Charlotte whispered her gratitude, truly meaning it.

Henry descended the stairs, stopping in front of her. Feeling self-conscious about her dirtied hands, Charlotte instinctively hid them behind her back. If it had been Eugene standing there instead, she wouldn’t have cared. But of all people, it had to be a police officer.

The autopsy facility had suffered too much disgrace and humiliation when it had been under police jurisdiction. Even though Charlotte hadn’t personally experienced those times, she had inherited the bitterness of those who had.

Henry, as usual, only smiled and offered her a handkerchief.

Charlotte snatched it from him and aggressively wiped her hands. The silk cloth wasn’t exactly suited for cleaning, leaving her hands still feeling grimy, but it was better than nothing.

“Shall we head back?”

“…Yeah.”

Charlotte found herself a little grateful that Henry didn’t ask any questions. If he had asked what she was doing, what could she have even said?

The embarrassment was secondary. More importantly, she still didn’t know how to explain the syringe.

Sir Lau saw them off—or rather, practically kicked them out—as they boarded the carriage.

“To Bisset Pharmacy,” Henry instructed the coachman.

Not the train station? Charlotte turned to him with a puzzled look. Sensing her gaze, Henry gave an awkward smile.

“Sir Lau mentioned that the Baroness sent him there once a month. He said they usually bought headache medicine, painkillers, and other common household remedies. I figured it was worth checking out.”

“…The Baroness told me the same thing. She said she asked him to pick up medicine once a month. Normally, he went alone, but last month, he brought Miss May with him.”

“That’s good. Once we return, we can ask Miss May about it as well.”

What kind of medicine had Lucy been buying? Common household drugs were usually taken orally. Injections, on the other hand, were rarely sold to individuals unless they had a specific medical need. Typically, such medicines were prescribed through a formal arrangement with a doctor, who would not only supply the medicine but also administer the injection personally before taking back the used syringe.

Of course, if someone had an illness they didn’t want even their doctor to know about, they might keep such medicine on hand. But still…

Charlotte’s mind swirled with uncertainty as they arrived at Bisset Pharmacy—only to find it closed. It was already too late in the evening. With no other choice, they had to turn back empty-handed.

“Baroness Turove knew.”

Charlotte spoke suddenly, staring blankly at the passing scenery outside the train window.

“…Knew what?”

“That her husband was having an affair. She didn’t seem particularly upset about it.”

“Whether she was truly indifferent or had simply exhausted her anger is something we can’t say for certain.”

Henry’s sharp remark made Charlotte nod. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t shake her growing suspicion toward Lucy. There was no denying that her friend had been acting suspiciously.

“We’ll have to return to Bisset Pharmacy tomorrow.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“…Are you serious?”

Charlotte frowned slightly.

“Of course I am.”

“Hmm. I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

Charlotte raised her voice slightly—out of guilt, of course. She still hadn’t told him about the syringe hidden in her coat. Strictly speaking, withholding evidence from a police investigation was a serious offense. Even she wouldn’t trust herself right now.

But she wanted to be sure before revealing anything.

If it turned out that Lucy really had done something terrible, then Charlotte wouldn’t hesitate to turn her in. Their friendship had nothing to do with it—justice was justice.

However, it wasn’t time for that yet. Suspicion alone wasn’t enough to condemn Lucy. There were others just as questionable as her. People lie for all sorts of reasons. Everyone has secrets, even from their closest friends.

And besides, it had been years since she and Lucy had truly kept in touch. Maybe Lucy only saw her as an old friend now—someone she no longer confided in.

Or maybe… her habits had simply changed over time. People don’t change easily, but after so many years, who could say for sure? The truth was, Charlotte’s belief that Lucy had lied was only based on instinct. There was no solid evidence. If she accused Lucy now, she’d just sound like a paranoid lunatic.

“No, that’s not what I meant—”

Henry, startled by her sharp tone, raised his hands in a placating gesture. He pointed toward the stack of papers beside her.

“I just meant… that seems urgent.”

Oh. Right.

Charlotte slowly turned to look at the documents she had barely touched. Then she glanced at Henry’s face, then back at the papers, before finally sighing in defeat.

Had she been too harsh? Henry had been chatting casually with her just a while ago, but now he had clammed up. He must’ve been at least a little offended. She thought about apologizing, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t come out.

Henry didn’t say anything else either. He simply turned to stare out the window, tapping his fingers against the armrest in a steady rhythm.

A cool breeze slipped through the small gap in the window, swirling around them before vanishing again.

Until they arrived back in the capital, the heavy silence between them remained unbroken.