Chapter 15

“Even so, how could you—”

The pharmacist let out a deep sigh.

“You don’t understand, Superintendent. In a small town like this, once a rumor starts, it spreads everywhere. If word got out that I was running my mouth about my customers’ private ailments, my shop would be finished. And that would be the best-case scenario. If a noble were to take offense—well, I’d be as good as dead.”

“So, what exactly is this medicine?”

At Henry’s question, the pharmacist’s eyes darted around as if weighing his options. Then, after taking a deep breath, he strode toward the door.

He checked the street outside, scanning for any lingering passersby. Satisfied, he firmly shut the door and locked it. Then, he went around securing the window shutters one by one. The inside of the shop darkened as if night had suddenly fallen.

Only after lighting a candle did he finally speak, his voice heavy with warning.

“You must keep this confidential.”

“Go on.”

Even after Henry’s confirmation, the pharmacist hesitated. The candle burned lower, wax pooling at its base.

Then, finally—

“It’s Salvarsan.”

Charlotte’s mouth fell open.

“Salvarsan? That Salvarsan?”

“Yes, the very same.”

Salvarsan—a compound derived from arsenic. The only known treatment for syphilis. If administered in proper doses at regular intervals, it could halt the disease’s progression.

“Who was using it?”

“That, I don’t know… But it’s not hard to guess, is it? If one person has it, the other one does too.”

Of course. That’s how venereal diseases worked.

And if that was the case, then it made sense why someone would go to such lengths—why even a knight would be sent to retrieve it in secrecy.

“Lu— I mean, the Baroness… She’s the real victim here.”

Charlotte murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Henry nodded grimly. “This could be a motive for murder.”

Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to disagree.

If she had been in Lucy’s place—if her husband had been unfaithful and then given her a disease—she too would have wanted to kill him.

Her mind flashed to Lucy’s faint smile, to the tiny beauty mark beneath her eye.

Had she drawn it on… to cover a syphilitic lesion?

Charlotte clenched her fists, her hands trembling.

“Um…”

The pharmacist’s hesitant voice cut through the silence.

“There’s… one more thing you should know.”

“What is it?”

“Well, you see… actually—”

* * *

The interrogation room was dimly lit. There was no wind, yet the single hanging lamp swayed slightly, its metal creaking as it moved. The shifting light cast long, flickering shadows against the walls.

Robert Turove sat slouched in his chair, his expression one of barely contained irritation. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his back pressed deep against the chair in a posture of defiance.

Across from him, Henry and Charlotte sat with an air of quiet authority. Between them, the table was littered with a mess of scattered objects.

Without a word, Henry gathered the items and pushed them to one side.

“Let’s go over this again, Mr. Turove.”

“I have nothing to say.”

Robert Turove ground out the words between clenched teeth. Unlike before, when he had been a drunken mess, he was sober now. His speech carried traces of the cultured upbringing befitting his noble status, but the subtle wrinkles in his sleeves betrayed his earlier outburst.

“The police must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel these days,” he sneered. “What’s next? Framing innocent citizens for crimes they didn’t commit?”

Henry didn’t respond to the taunt. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth pouch, setting it on the table.

“The household servants testified that you and the Baron drank together the night before his death,” Henry stated evenly.

“And? Yes, I drank with my brother. But is that enough to convict me in court?”

Robert smirked, raising a single finger to tap rhythmically against the table.

“If you’re trying to make me out as the killer, you’ll need better evidence than that, Superintendent.”

When neither Henry nor Charlotte immediately responded, Robert’s smirk widened. He was enjoying this.

“Why would I kill my own brother, hmm?”

Henry, who had been silently watching him, finally spoke.

“Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have had a reason. The Baron was quite generous to you.”

He reached for a file buried beneath the clutter and smoothed out the crumpled edges with deliberate care. It was the investigation report compiled by Dan and Martin. As he flipped through the pages, he read aloud.

“Twenty-eight years old… no occupation, no personal wealth… and still living with your parents. Correct?”

“…”

Robert’s face hardened. His fingers twitched slightly against his crossed arms. Charlotte couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. So he has the audacity to be offended by that.

“You frequent gambling halls,” Henry continued, flipping another page. “And judging by your debts, you don’t have much luck. Pawn shops seem to know you quite well, too. I imagine the loan sharks have been giving you a hard time.”

He closed the file and leveled a gaze at Robert.

“So tell me—how did you pay off all those debts?”

Robert’s face turned an ugly shade of red. His jaw clenched as he muttered through gritted teeth,

“…The family helped me…”

“More specifically, the Baron helped you,” Henry corrected. “The rest of your family wouldn’t give you a single coin.”

He let out a low chuckle.

“It’s embarrassing enough to beg your parents for money at your age, but to go crying to your older brother every time you lost at cards? That takes real nerve.”

Charlotte added smoothly, “But recently, that safety net disappeared, didn’t it? The Baron announced that he wouldn’t be supporting you anymore.”

“I heard he was even kind enough to find you a job,” Henry mused, glancing over Robert’s unimpressed expression. “Though from the looks of it, you didn’t quite appreciate the offer.”

He smirked.

“Typical gambler.”

That was the final straw.

Robert shot up from his chair, his hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the table. His entire body radiated barely restrained fury.

Henry, however, remained completely unfazed. With a calm, calculated step, he approached Robert and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

Robert gritted his teeth but, feeling the weight pressing down on him, was forced back into his chair.

“Even after the Baron cut you off, you continued gambling,” Henry said, his voice dangerously low. “And, of course, you racked up more debts.”

The hanging lamp let out another eerie creak.

“As usual, you went to your brother,” Henry continued. “He had always taken care of your debts before. Surely, if you pleaded, if you groveled enough, he would do it again.”

Robert remained silent, his hands balled into fists.

“But then—he refused.”

‘Again? You’re in debt again? Did you gamble again? Do you even think before you act? How much longer do you expect me to clean up after you?’

Robert’s mind flashed back to the night of the argument. His brother’s sharp voice, the disgust on his face, the sheer contempt in his words.

‘Brother, please… you don’t understand, the loan sharks—’

‘I don’t care! Do you know what people are saying about us? About me?’

The Baron had shoved him back violently. Robert, caught off guard, stumbled and landed hard on the floor. He had looked up in disbelief.

His brother’s face was twisted in rage.

‘They say I’m keeping you around because you have something on me!’

‘That’s just a ridiculous rumor, brother, you know that—’

‘If it was just a rumor, I wouldn’t care!’

The Baron’s voice was nearly a shout now, his breathing ragged.

‘But do you know what else they’re saying?’

He paused, his expression darkening. Robert watched as the rage on his brother’s face slowly morphed into something… worse.

Shame.

‘They say… I can’t have children.’

Robert’s blood ran cold.

‘They say I’m—’ The Baron’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. ‘—infertile. And that you’re taking my place in my wife’s bed.’

Robert’s heart pounded in his chest.

‘That’s absurd! You don’t actually believe that, do you?!’

‘Of course not!’ The Baron’s fists clenched. ‘Do you think I’d let a worm like you anywhere near my wife?!’

And yet—his face was twisted in a way Robert had never seen before.

‘I took care of you because I pitied you!’ the Baron spat. ‘You’re useless! A man with no skills, no ambition, who only knows how to throw money away and make a fool of himself!’

Robert stared at his brother.

The man who had always looked at him with kindness. The man who had protected him, supported him, given him everything.

That man was gone.

All that remained was disgust.

‘And you had the nerve to gossip about my wife with your filthy gambling friends?’

Robert opened his mouth to protest, but the Baron didn’t let him speak.

‘You’re nothing but a parasite!’

Robert trembled.

Had his brother always thought of him this way? Had every coin, every gift, every word of support—all of it—been out of pity?

The rage inside him began to boil.

‘Get out of my sight.’

Robert’s fingers curled into his palms, his nails digging into his skin.

It wasn’t his fault.

None of this was his fault.

But his brother had looked at him as if he were nothing. As if he were already dead.