Episode 9
Mr. Smith had arrived.
It looked like he’d already heard what was going on outside. His eyes went straight to the papers in Vernon’s hands.
Vernon turned his head away and clicked his tongue. Frisbee froze up at the appearance of the chief aide.
“Move.”
Mr. Smith’s voice dropped low. Frisbee flinched and stepped aside.
“Chief Aide…”
I bit my lip and called out to him. I didn’t want to lose his trust too.
Mr. Smith bent down on one knee, staring at the crumpled papers like a detective searching for hidden clues.
He calmly spread out the accounting records, and the pressure from his presence alone made everyone step back and go silent.
After looking through them for a moment, he closed his eyes like he was exhausted.
“Miss Foy. Can you explain this?”
I answered as calmly as I could. This was my one chance to speak.
“Mr. Smith, I’m not the culprit. If you take a moment to look through the facts, you’ll see it’s not me.”
He studied my confident expression and asked gently,
“But the numbers that don’t match—those were written in your handwriting. I’ve seen your handwriting closely recently, remember?”
“Anyone can copy handwriting. Plenty of officials in the palace have been falsely accused that way.”
“And how can we be sure your words are true? Any proof that it isn’t your writing?”
“You can ask a handwriting expert. I have nothing to hide. I’m fine with an immediate investigation.”
Mr. Smith tucked the records into his coat and looked around sharply. After I mentioned being framed, his expression became much more serious.
“Who found the forged documents?”
Vernon answered reluctantly.
“Me.”
“Why were you looking through someone else’s drawer?”
Now that the questions were coming his way, Vernon looked flustered for a second—but quickly composed himself.
“Well, Miss Foy was away from her desk, and I needed to check a process. Frisbee said she kept the manual.”
“A manual?”
“Everyone knows she keeps a bunch of books and manuals because she handles so much work.”
“And that gave you the right to go through her stuff?”
“I-I wasn’t going to at first! But it was urgent, so I took it out and planned to leave a note!”
“And where was Miss Foy during this time?”
“I was in accounting. Then I ate lunch alone. You know I’m in charge of collecting and organizing those ledgers.”
Vernon hesitated, his confidence shrinking now that Mr. Smith was involved.
“I opened the drawer while she was gone and saw a bunch of papers underneath. They looked like original records. I compared them with the ones Miss Foy submitted—and the numbers didn’t match.”
Everyone looked at me now. Mr. Smith stared at me calmly.
“How do you explain this?”
“I’m too neat to ever stuff torn-up documents into my drawer like that.”
I looked straight into his eyes.
“You’ve worked with me long enough to know how organized I am.”
“That’s true. You even line up your papers neatly before starting work.”
“And if I had forged the numbers, why would I leave the original versions in my office drawer? I’d have burned them at home—I’m not stupid enough to leave evidence lying around.”
Everyone—Vernon, Frisbee, and even Mr. Smith—seemed a bit surprised by how honest I sounded.
Mr. Smith rubbed his chin and nodded.
“You’re right. No one would leave something that risky just sitting around.”
Then Vernon cut in again with another sharp accusation.
“Wait, are you confessing now?”
“Vernon. Enough.”
This time, the timing wasn’t on Vernon’s side. Right after I scolded him, Mr. Smith added,
“George Vernon. Let others speak too. As chief aide, I want to hear everyone.”
With both of us against him, Vernon shrank back.
“…Understood.”
Frisbee was the next to speak. He rubbed his forehead like he was confused.
“Yesterday, that crumpled pile definitely wasn’t there. If Miss Foy’s telling the truth, who could’ve put it there?”
“I agree. It wasn’t there before lunch—I checked the drawer myself earlier.”
Someone had clearly planted it during lunch.
To frame me.
“Who was the first one to come back to the office during lunch? Or maybe the last one to leave?”
Even when Mr. Smith asked, no one could answer.
“Um… I don’t know.”
“Me neither.”
“Same here.”
Let’s be real—during lunch, everyone runs out like it’s the apocalypse. No one pays attention to anything.
Vernon’s eyes shifted nervously.
“S-So if we can’t prove otherwise, Miss Foy is still the only suspect. She altered documents meant for His Majesty—”
“Stop.”
Mr. Smith’s deep voice cut right through Vernon’s accusations.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Nothing has been proven yet.”
Thanks to that, people’s suspicion toward me began to fade a little.
Then he signaled to me.
“Miss Foy. Let’s talk privately.”
We went back to the break room and sat across from each other at the small table.
This spot was slowly turning into our official confession booth.
“I really didn’t do it.”
I said in a small voice, close to tears.
“I’m a coward. A normal citizen! Why would I risk everything to fake a ledger? And you know it usually takes an hour just to organize them properly.”
Even copying real numbers takes that long—how could I also change the amounts and make it all match?
“There’s no way I had the time. It’s just not possible!”
“…Alright. Calm down. I know you write slower than most people.”
“You believe me?”
“I do. For now, your explanation makes sense. We’ll also investigate whether someone tried to frame you.”
Thankfully, Mr. Smith wasn’t someone who jumped to conclusions.
His soft brown eyes turned firm with conviction. That helped calm my shaky heart a little.
Knock knock.
Just then, a young staff member quietly opened the door.
“What is it?”
The information they brought was surprising.
“I wanted to say… I saw who stayed in the office the longest during lunch. It was Vernon.”
Mr. Smith frowned.
“Vernon?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone, so I came to tell you quietly.”
A new theory began to form.
What if Vernon planted the fake documents to pin the blame on me before anyone suspected him?
“Mr. Smith.”
I looked at him desperately. He seemed just as thrown off as I was.
“Hold on.”
Another idea popped into my head.
“Wait—didn’t Vernon say he was going on vacation?”
“He did. This morning, he sent out a notice. He’s taking a long overseas trip, and it was such short notice that everyone was surprised.”
“When’s he leaving?”
“In two days.”
“Damn.”
Mr. Smith cursed under his breath. After the assistant left, we lowered our voices.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was already planning to re-check all the assistants who were going on leave. Just in case one of them was the mole from the Woodrock case.”
We exchanged a look.
Something was off.
What if Vernon’s vacation, the Woodrock scandal, and the false accusations against me were all connected?
We stared at each other silently.
A new suspect had entered the game.
To be continued…
