TCBUP 61

Chapter 61

 My Name is Sienna, I’m a Detective.

[Butler’s Statement]

Q. Lord Cherat was the host, yet he left in the middle of the banquet. Were you aware?
A. Yes. An urgent matter came up, so he went to his office.

Q. Around what time did he leave?
A. Around 10:30. Nearly an hour had passed without his return, so I went to look for him and found him collapsed at the bottom of the stairs. He was already dead.

Q. Did you notice anything unusual about him?
A. He was rather excited. Well, it was the first banquet in a long while, and Her Majesty the Empress had sent a bottle of vintage gold-label champagne for the event, so he was even more pleased.

Q. Do you know Lord Cherat’s mistress?
A. I’m sorry, but I don’t meddle in my master’s private affairs. That said, there’s hardly a noble who goes their whole life without keeping at least one mistress.

By the time I finished reading the statement, we had arrived at the first-floor hall where the incident had occurred.

For the banquet, a deep red carpet had been laid from the first floor up to the second, and rare autumn chrysanthemums decorated both ends of the staircase’s starting point.

“This is the scene, then. Cause of death…?”

“Fall. He tumbled down the stairs, broke his neck, and died instantly.”

“I see… My condolences.”

At the spot where Lord Cherat had fallen, I bowed my head lightly in silent tribute.

An outline marking the position of his body had been painted in white, and around it, thin, delicate petals of purple cloud chrysanthemums were scattered in disarray.

Looking up the stairs, I saw the large grandfather clock Lady Cherat had mentioned in her testimony.

“They’ve searched the office yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Damian and I climbed the staircase to the second floor.

The grandfather clock they’d both described was massive—almost touching the ceiling—crafted from carved antique hardwood, a truly venerable work of art.

“This is about where he was with his mistress, isn’t it?”

They must have been together at first, then gotten into an argument, which escalated into a physical struggle.

By all accounts, the most likely suspect was this mysterious mistress. Judging from the testimonies, Lady Cherat only learned of her existence today.

“Hm?”

It seemed there had been a struggle. Here too, petals from the cloud chrysanthemums were scattered on the red carpet in the middle of the hallway.

The second floor was darker than the first, and the petals were so thin they were hard to spot.

I stood and gripped the hallway railing.

The ceiling in the first-floor hall was high. Two tall pillars rose to support the third floor, giving the place an atrium-like openness that made the mansion feel even larger.

“The pillar’s wide enough for Lady Cherat to hide behind,” Damian remarked.

As I leaned forward to glance down at the floor below, my eyes met someone else’s.

Startled, she clutched the skirt of her red dress and fled in an instant.

They say the culprit always returns to the scene of the crime.

I was about to hurry downstairs in pursuit when a status window interrupted me.

<MESSAGE>
Have you finished the on-site inspection, Sienna?

If so, let’s start tracing the Earl’s movements.

The closest office might be a good start.

Ah, and don’t forget to check the guest list.

I was going to. Why do you keep butting in—no, adding comments?

As if I wasn’t already on edge from being suspected of murder.

I frowned at the status window, muttering complaints under my breath.

“What was that, Sienna?”

“Nothing. Let’s check the office. We need to retrace the Earl’s steps.”

We entered the office together.

Just as the butler had said, the desk was in disarray.

“The Red Rose of the Valley.”

Lord Cherat read this kind of book?

Even I knew that title—it was a classic novel from the Romantic period, famous for its vivid, delicate, and rather explicit depictions of romance.

But this copy was thinner than mine, the paper flimsier, the print on the cover of poorer quality.

I opened it absentmindedly, but the contents were far from ordinary.

“I’ll need to take this.”

I stole a sideways glance at Damian, who was examining the far side of the office.

I deliberately dropped a pen from the desk, crouched down to pick it up, and—shielding the book from his sight—rolled The Red Rose of the Valley up and tucked it into my underskirt.

“Sienna.”

“Yes? What is it? Did you find something?”

My heart jolted at the sound of his voice from behind me.

Turning slowly, I saw him holding one of the scattered letters from the desk.

“This name shows up repeatedly—Lady Judith Mellin. I think she’s the real mistress.”

“At the very least, exchanging this many letters is suspicious. What about the contents? Are they enough to confirm it?”

“Mm. Yes, they’re certain, but…”

Damian’s voice trailed into a sound of clear discomfort.

Curious, I stepped closer to peek at the letter in his hand.

“….”

It was filled with obscene words unfit to speak aloud.

Flustered, I stepped away quickly, covering my embarrassment with a forced cough.

“We should check the guest list. One that includes the dress codes.”

* * *

The Duke of Ortiz’s influence was formidable.

When I’d asked earlier, the constable hadn’t even feigned interest—but at Damian’s single request, he appeared in five minutes with the list in hand.

Watching the constable bend at a perfect ninety degrees to hand it over made my expression twist into something more petulant than I’d intended.

I scanned the list with my finger until I stopped at my own name.

“Huh?”

“What is it?”

“My dress code wasn’t supposed to be violet—it was supposed to be deep red. The one who was supposed to wear violet was… Judith Mellin.”

“There must’ve been a mix-up when sending the invitations. Probably the butler’s mistake. Come to think of it…”

Damian shuffled through the statements and began reading one with particular focus.

It was from another servant.

“They say the butler’s eyesight deteriorated sharply after an accident while running an errand for the Earl. That’s probably why he made the mistake.”

“Really?”

“He’s been making frequent errors lately. He was publicly humiliated by the Earl several times in front of other staff, and was even given notice of dismissal. That’s motive enough for murder.”

When I’d entered earlier, the butler had looked me up and down in disapproval.

It must’ve been because my attire didn’t match the dress code. Clearly, he hadn’t realized it was his own mistake.

Lady Cherat hadn’t commented on my clothes—only shown interest in my necklace—so she must have already scolded him for the error beforehand.

While I was lost in thought, Damian’s dark red shirt—its color shifting subtly in the light—drifted into my line of vision.

Deep red… similar to the shirt Damian was wearing now.

Just in case, I checked his name on the guest list—and couldn’t help the wry smile that curled on my lips.

“Looks like Lady Cherat wanted to throw me to the wolves in front of the other nobles.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and I had the same dress code—deep red.”

If I, engaged to Aiden, had shown up wearing the same color as my ex-fiancé, the scandal would’ve been immediate.

The reasons behind it wouldn’t matter—they only needed the spectacle.

“You would’ve been humiliated because of me.”

“It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s the opposite. I might have caused you trouble…”

“I don’t care.”

“….”

“Even if we’d worn the same color, I’d have been fine. But if you’d been insulted because of it… hm.”

Damian’s gaze on me deepened, dark as night, heavy and unyielding.

I’ve been seeing that look from him more often lately.

But every time he does, I can never handle it—so I turn away instead.

I was about to avert my eyes again when I noticed his tie pin.

Familiar… oh. I’d given it to him as a gift.

He’d barely reacted when he received it, yet today—of all days—he wore it, on the very occasion when we’d almost been forced into an unintentional matching outfit.

Sensing my gaze, he reached up and idly touched the platinum-gold tie pin, its color like his hair.