Chapter 6

It was then that the door to the interrogation room opened, and a brown-haired man stepped out. Charlotte took the chance to steal a glance through the narrowing gap in the door at the woman who had been the baron’s mistress. Her eyes, reddened from tears, made her look terribly sorrowful.

The man shook his head and spoke.

“We’re not making any progress. She’s adamantly insisting that she didn’t kill him.”

“But there’s no one more suspicious than her.”

“Do you really think Miss May is the culprit?”

“We’ll find out with more questioning. You can go now, Dory. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“…My name is Dan, Superintendent.”

“…My apologies.”

“Seriously, I mean this with all sincerity, Superintendent—it’s fine in front of us, but please, I beg you, don’t do this in front of others. I’m saying this for your own good.”

“…Understood.”

“You’re smart, you don’t seem to have any other issues, so why is it that you just can’t remember people’s names? I just don’t get it… Whoa! Damn, that scared me!”

Charlotte laughed as she watched Dan flinch and stumble back, nearly falling over when their eyes met. It was like watching a circus act. Dan, clearly embarrassed, scratched his head as his face turned red.

“Charlotte Cillon, from the autopsy facility.”

“Dan… Dan Mars.”

Henry clicked his tongue as he watched the two awkwardly exchange introductions.

“You may go now, Darin. Miss Cillon, let’s talk.”

“…It’s Dan, Superintendent.”

“…It’s Charlotte.”

“…….”

This time, Charlotte and Dan clicked their tongues at Henry.

Dan left Charlotte with a piece of advice: “Our superintendent is absolutely terrible at remembering names, but he understands work-related matters just fine. Just ignore it and say what you need to say.” Then, he walked away.

Charlotte followed Henry into the room adjacent to the interrogation chamber. Inside, the furnishings were those of an ordinary office—desks, bookshelves, chairs, a sofa, and a table. The only thing that set it apart from a typical office was that every single piece of furniture was completely buried under stacks of paperwork.

“Have a seat.”

Henry, completely unfazed, sat right down on the sofa, which was half-submerged under a pile of documents. Charlotte hesitated for a moment before shoving some papers aside to carve out a small space, then sat down.

“Would you like some tea, Miss Cillon?”

“I… No, I’m fine.”

Recalling Dan’s useful and rather considerate advice, Charlotte decided to live as “Cillon” for now. She could always change her name back once she left this place.

Henry had already lifted the teapot, but when she refused, he let out a small “Oh,” then set it down. After fidgeting awkwardly with his fingers for a moment, he cleared his throat and finally spoke.

“You seem to have… something to tell me, Miss Celine?”

Charlotte decided she would just pretend “Celine” was her name this time too.

“…Yes, actually. I believe the culprit in this case is the subject of this file.”

She held out a document as she continued speaking.

“The victim’s younger brother, Robert Turove.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“It should all be in the report, but Robert Turove recently had a sudden falling out with the victim. They argued loudly the day before the murder, and later that evening, they drank together. He had both the opportunity and the motive to poison him, didn’t he?”

Henry shook his head.

“That’s all circumstantial. It’s not enough.”

“Then what evidence do you have against the mistress?”

“…That’s also circumstantial. But we find her a bit more suspicious.”

“If she was receiving such expensive gifts from the baron, then their relationship couldn’t have been that bad, could it? She doesn’t seem to have much of a motive.”

“She wasn’t an official mistress. She was still a maid, only going to the baron when he summoned her. Because of that, her work always piled up, and she frequently got scolded. The baron never gave her any special treatment. If he saw her as more than just a convenient companion, he might have asked the head maid to lighten her workload, but he didn’t. Since their relationship wasn’t acknowledged publicly, all she got in return was criticism for slacking off.”

“So you think she might have held a grudge?”

“To some extent.”

But Henry’s expression was not that of someone convinced.

“If it were me, instead of killing the baron, I would have whispered to him to lighten my workload or asked for a small house instead of jewelry so I could quit being a maid. Killing him wouldn’t have brought her any benefit.”

“There are cases where people kill out of resentment and rage.”

“But Robert Turove, the man in that report, is just as suspicious, isn’t he?”

Henry stared at the document, biting his lip as if deep in thought.

“Did Miss May have an opportunity to poison the baron?”

“…Too many. She was the one who served him drinks the night before he died, and she was also the first to discover the body.”

“If she served them drinks, then she must have overheard their conversation. She might have even witnessed Robert Turove doing something suspicious.”

“…”

“How about questioning her a little more?”

Henry eventually nodded. In truth, he too had been struggling with doubts—while there was something suspicious about the maid, he wasn’t entirely convinced she was the culprit.

The two of them stepped into the interrogation room. May, who seemed to have calmed down somewhat, looked back and forth between them with wary eyes. She clutched her handkerchief tightly, as if trying to steady herself.

“…Let’s go over this again.”

“I didn’t kill my master.”

“You’re saying the exact same thing as before. Are you sure you have nothing else to say?”

“Why should I say anything different?! This is the truth!”

Charlotte silently observed May as she trembled and raised her voice. Whether from fear or frustration, the maid had wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach.

“The night before the victim’s death, you served him drinks. Correct?”

“…Yes. But if I had poisoned the alcohol, then Lord Robert would have died too, wouldn’t he? He drank from the same bottle, and yet he’s perfectly fine!”

“What did the two of them talk about?”

“…Why are you asking that?”

“Does that matter? You just need to tell us what you heard.”

May slowly released the grip around her stomach, clasping her hands together. Her fingers fidgeted for a moment before she carefully began recalling the conversation.

“The baron was lecturing him. Telling him to stop wandering aimlessly, to start living properly… That he was too old to still be blaming their parents.”

“And did Robert just sit there and listen to that?”

“He did. Strangely enough, he listened quietly.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

May hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“The master was always generous to Lord Robert. Even though he was well past adulthood, he didn’t work, just idled around, yet the master kept giving him an allowance. Even when he racked up gambling debts, the master paid them off. But recently, it seemed he had reached his limit. He finally declared that he would no longer give him any money.

Lord Robert was furious, shouting, ‘How could you do this to me?’ But the master was firm.

That afternoon, he even came begging for help, and when he was refused, he got so angry that he threw one of the decorations in the master’s room. But then, suddenly, he came back that evening to drink with him. He sat there, listening to the same scolding he had heard earlier, yet this time, he just nodded and said, ‘Yes, brother, you’re absolutely right.’”

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

Charlotte turned slightly to glance at Henry, who, judging by his expression, was thinking the same thing. Their gazes met in the air, and Henry gave a subtle nod before asking another question.

“Did you prepare the alcohol and glasses yourself?”

“Yes, I brought them straight from the kitchen to the room.”

“Were you the one who poured their drinks the entire time? Or did anyone else touch the bottle?”

“Oh, here we go again.”

May’s face flushed red once more.

“I—did—not—poison—anyone!”

Her voice rang through the interrogation room, sharp with frustration.

Henry let out a small sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the chair.

May, sensing that he still didn’t believe her, wrapped her arms around her stomach again and suddenly shot up from her seat.

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!”

Meanwhile, Charlotte had been observing May’s every movement when a sudden thought made her tilt her head slightly. Why does she keep holding her stomach? Is she in pain?

But the way May touched herself didn’t seem like someone soothing an aching spot—it looked more like she was protecting something. A sudden realization struck Charlotte like lightning, making her mouth fall open.

“Miss May, are you…?”

Charlotte couldn’t even finish her sentence, shifting her gaze between May’s face and her stomach. As the shock became evident in Charlotte’s expression, May’s face turned deathly pale.

“I, I, I…”

She tried to say something but, in the end, couldn’t get the words out and collapsed back into her chair. Her lips trembled, and soon, soft sobs escaped her. Tears fell onto the desk, leaving small stains as quiet hiccups filled the room.

Henry, caught off guard by the sudden emotional outburst, looked back and forth between Charlotte and May in confusion. Then, tapping Charlotte’s arm lightly, he whispered,

“What exactly is happening here, Miss Cillon?”

“…You really have no sense at all. Just keep your mouth shut for now.”

“…Understood.”

As May’s crying began to subside, Charlotte let out a quiet sigh. May flinched at the sound, her shoulders shrinking inward.

“Is it the baron’s child?”

“…”

May didn’t answer. She simply shut her eyes tightly, her reddened eyelids trembling.

Is Miss May pregnant? Charlotte’s head throbbed at Henry’s completely tactless and ill-timed question. Can you please stay quiet? …Yes.

“…I didn’t kill the baron.”

After a long silence, May finally spoke. Her voice was shaky, mixed with sniffles, but still understandable.

“I’m carrying the baron’s child. Do you have any idea what it’s like for an unmarried woman to be pregnant? To face the judgment of others once the child is born?”