TLYWK Chapter 10 (Part 2)

Faint sounds of sobbing reached her ears. New captives always cried at first, only to fall silent eventually—either out of resignation or death. Either way, silence was inevitable.

“Hey, you.”

She called out to the children in the opposite cell. Her voice was hoarse and metallic, a result of her long confinement. Her call prompted murmurs from the other cell. The garbled whispers suggested they were talking amongst themselves.

Finally, the eldest-looking child responded.

“What… what is it?”

“You came in yesterday, didn’t you?”

“And…?”

“What season is it outside right now?”

The child’s face contorted as if she’d asked a terrifying question. Tears welled up, threatening to spill over.

Oh no, not crying. The girl frowned in annoyance. Her eyes, accustomed to the dark, could clearly make out the tears glistening in the child’s eyes.

“Don’t cry. It’s annoying.”

“Sp… spring. It’s spring outside.”

“Spring, huh…”

She tried to remember how many springs had passed since she arrived here. She had asked every new captive the same question, but since people were brought in sporadically, she had lost count. With her curiosity satisfied, she lost interest and lay back down on the floor.

Until recently, a kid in the neighboring cell had constantly pestered her with chatter, but it was quiet now.

Dead or sold off. This prison was just a holding place for captives, human or otherwise, who were eventually sold. It was rare for anyone to stay as long as she had.

“Ex… excuse me…”

The child across from her spoke again. The girl frowned and ignored it.

“Miss… miss, please.”

Already irritated by the echoing sounds in the underground cell, she sat up abruptly.

“What? Why are you calling me? If it’s stupid, I’ll curse you.”

The child stammered through tears.

“Are… are we never getting out of here?”

What nonsense. She thought it over briefly and concluded the child’s fear stemmed from her earlier question about the season.

But this prison wasn’t meant to hold captives indefinitely. Most stayed for a week or a month before being sold off. She was the only exception.

“You won’t stay here forever.”

“Can we… can we leave?”

“Yes, you’ll probably be sold somewhere. I don’t know where exactly, though.”

The child burst into tears, and the rest of the children huddled like rice balls also began crying simultaneously.

The girl clenched her fists in frustration, wanting to scream. If she joined in, the cell would be filled with deafening noise. Instead, she covered her ears tightly.

“Stop crying! It’s too loud!”

Unable to endure any longer, she shouted, her roar echoing like a lion’s, silencing the children. Startled, they hiccupped and fell silent.

With the noise gone, the girl lay back down. She detested noise and children.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

Lying on the floor, she asked. The child who had spoken earlier replied in a tearful voice.

“Hank… it’s Hank.”

His voice was thick with tears, making it sound nasal.

“Alright, Hank. I know you’re scared and sad, but don’t cry loudly. There’s a guard upstairs who comes down to hit people if it gets too noisy. Understand?”

“Y-yes, I understand.”

Fortunately, the children seemed to heed her warning. Though they still whimpered, the loud crying stopped. The girl began counting the sand grains embedded in the bricks above her.

Whether they were actual sand grains or just patterns, she didn’t know. Still, counting them was an effective way to pass the time.

“Um… excuse me…”

The child spoke again. Damn, she’d lost count. She turned her head, unable to hide her annoyance.

“What now?”

“What’s… what’s your name?”

Children were always like this—insisting on introductions. Someone must have taught them that polite society requires exchanging names. What a useless custom.

Even so, the girl slowly opened her mouth to answer.

“Monster.”

She had once had a name, but no one called her that anymore. Instead, she used the label given by her captors.

“People call me a monster.”

* * *

Beatrice left most of the sandwich Lily had brought untouched. It wasn’t what she had wanted.

Hearing that the café still hadn’t reopened, a flicker of irritation sparked within her. Why was it so difficult to get just one sandwich?

If she’d known it would come to this, she would have saved a single sandwich to give to the duke’s chef. Perhaps the chef, with their expertise, could have replicated the exact flavor.

After her errand, Lily had said something strange. She asked for a bit of time, claiming she would figure everything out. Beatrice, uninterested in whatever Lily had to say, simply nodded.

In the past, Lily had always informed her once everything was perfectly prepared. Since Beatrice trusted her not to do anything harmful, she let Lily act as she pleased.

Three days later, Lily served tea to Beatrice and began to report her findings.

“My lady, I’ve found out why Walbaret Café hasn’t reopened.”

Beatrice, sipping her tea absentmindedly, raised her head to look at Lily.

“Why haven’t it opened?”

Sometimes, she thought of that sandwich even in her dreams. It had been so delicious.

“When I first heard about it on my errand, I wanted to investigate more thoroughly, so my report is a little late.”

“That’s fine. Tell me quickly—why isn’t it open?”

“The owner of Walbaret Café is a woman in her forties…”

Lily explained that the café owner always brought her child to the café because she had no one to look after them. On a busy day, while the owner was distracted, the child had been struck and killed by a carriage.

The carriage belonged to a noble, making it impossible for her to seek justice. Overwhelmed with grief, the owner had not been able to reopen the café.

Beatrice blinked slowly. The café hadn’t reopened because the owner’s child had died? Emotionally, she couldn’t grasp it, but intellectually, she understood it.

Even Lily herself had joined the Count’s household, driven by grief and a desire for revenge after losing her family. In that case…

As Beatrice pondered, Lily cautiously spoke again.

“And the owner of that carriage, my lady, is Viscount Paralett.”

“Paralett?”

“Yes. According to a contact, he isn’t a particularly powerful noble, but he makes his money through human trafficking and prostitution.”

Lily’s jaw tightened in anger. Viscount Paralett was a minor noble with a small estate in the provinces. He had come to the capital, seeking to establish connections, and needed money to do so.

At first, he had formed a small organization to deal in illegal goods, amassing a fortune before purchasing a mansion in the capital. From there, he expanded into more illicit activities.

He kidnapped children and rare species to sell both domestically and internationally. With the profits, he opened a large brothel that catered to both men and women.

The establishment, considered high-end, attracted noble clientele, and rumors swirled that drugs were also being sold there. He was nothing short of human garbage.

Lily’s anger simmered. Commoners had no choice but to remain silent, no matter the harm inflicted by nobles—unless, like her, they risked their lives for revenge.

Beatrice, however, felt something different. So, because of that man, she couldn’t get what she wanted.

Her thoughts remained calm. If this was the situation, it actually made things easier.

“Lily.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Find out Viscount Paralett’s movements and residence.”

Lily’s face lit up with a sense of pride and satisfaction. As expected of her lady.

She had been confident Beatrice wouldn’t let such scum go unpunished. Of course, this was entirely Lily’s misunderstanding—Beatrice had no interest in the Viscount’s crimes.

She simply thought that if the problem were resolved like it had been with Lily’s situation, the café might reopen.

“I’ll take care of everything,” Lily said eagerly.

Having lived a long life, Beatrice had often seen people give up on life after losing something precious. It would be troublesome if the café owner did the same.

* * *

Lily acted diligently. The initial information about Viscount Paralett was relatively inexpensive and within Lily’s budget, but delving deeper into his operations and movements required significant funds.

Beatrice provided the money. The news that Beatrice, who rarely spent money, had requested funds from the butler delighted the Duchess.

Although she was curious about how the small amount would be spent, she casually dismissed it, assuming Beatrice would splurge on some tasty treats or enjoy a brief outing.

Lily bribed the initial informant with money to get introduced to a more secretive network.

The organization, introduced to clients who spent a certain amount, was accessed when Lily essentially shoved the required payment—courtesy of Beatrice—down the informant’s throat. Hugging the pouch of gold coins, the informant reluctantly gave Lily an address.

After memorizing the address, Lily killed time at a nearby café before heading to the location when the time felt right.

The ordinary alley she arrived in was neither dark nor dirty, yet eerily devoid of people. The entire alley was said to be under the organization’s management, but she couldn’t just knock on any door to make a request.

Pulling her hood tightly over her head, Lily fixed her gaze on the door matching the address the informant had given. It looked like an ordinary pub.

Without hesitation, she stepped inside, only to be met with an unexpected figure.

“Mentor?”

“Lily?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What else? I came to meet a friend.”

“You have friends?”

“Why does everyone pick a fight the moment they see me?”

Grumbling, Mentor sat at a shabby wooden table, patting it as if inviting her to join. But Lily shook her head.

“Sorry, I’m busy right now.”

“Busy? Doing what?”

“Work.”

At her curt response, Mentor’s expression shifted as if deep in thought. Instead of insisting she sit, he leaned closer, motioning for her to listen.

“Are you here for information?”

Lily’s eyes widened momentarily before narrowing suspiciously. She studied Mentor’s face, wary of how he might have deduced that. Sensing her reaction, Mentor scratched his cheek awkwardly and waved dismissively.

“Relax. The informant who referred you probably told you about this place. There are several networks in the capital, so I’m not sure which one sent you, but this route is official.”

“Mentor, don’t tell me…”

“No, Lily, it’s not what you think. I’m not involved with this place. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“My friend is.”

Mentor explained that if she wanted to buy information, she shouldn’t approach the counter but rather speak with the man sitting in the corner. It matched what the previous informant had told her.

Exchanging a glance that promised they’d talk later, Lily headed toward the man in the corner.

He had dark brown hair and black eyes—a face so ordinary that it would be hard to remember after a brief distraction. Lily took the seat opposite him.

“This chair only has two legs.”

“As long as it stands, it works.”

“How does it stand with only two legs?”

“It can stand with one.”

“Liar. I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. I have a one-legged chair in my room.”

“That’s fascinating. Show me.”