CHAPTER 2
The child reached into his pocket and took out a neatly folded piece of paper, offering it to me. I tilted my head in puzzlement and unfolded it.
<Sorry, my child.>
My breath caught for a moment. Maybe it was only my imagination, but the boy’s eyes suddenly looked sad.
“I want you to find the person who wrote this letter.”
His hands were folded neatly. His back was straight and his chin set. This child, who clearly had been taught manners, must have some story behind him.
‘This might not be something money can fix…’
I glanced around. From the way things felt, this was one hundred percent a letter left by his mother.
I’d accepted requests to find people before, but I’d never taken a case to find someone whose identity was completely unknown. If all I had was the existence of the letter, with no name or other information about the writer, it wouldn’t be a case I could solve.
“Do you know who wrote this letter?”
It would be helpful to have even a name, or at least a description.
“I’m sorry. I only know that it was left while I was asleep.”
Ah. This was a request I should decline.
“I’m afraid I can’t find who wrote this based on just this note. It would take a lot of time and cost a great deal, so it would be too much for a young master to bear.”
“I have a lot of money.”
The child smiled brightly and took a pink diamond from his pocket. The diamond was about the size of an adult man’s thumbnail — a jewel at a price I’d hesitate over if I were buying it.
“You didn’t come here alone, surely?”
The boy nodded innocently.
He wanders the busy streets alone with a terrifying jewel like that? What on earth are his parents doing?!
“Why? Is it impossible because I’m alone?”
I pressed my throbbing temple with my palm.
“There are more of these jewels at home. Or… would you like me to come and check them together?”
What am I supposed to do with this reckless child?
He seemed ready to drag me to his jewel-filled house as soon as he knew who I was. I couldn’t leave things to chance. Even if I refused the job, he shouldn’t go off showing that gem to anyone else.
“Kid, as someone who’s lived a lot longer than you, here’s some advice.”
The boy looked puzzled at my sudden change of tone.
“Keep that jewel safe so you don’t lose it and go straight home. And if you value your life, don’t wander the busy district asking for jobs or whatever.”
“Why would I die?”
Ah—an innocent young master with flowers in his head.
“There are plenty of people in this world who view a human life as nothing if there’s money to be made. If a child like you parades around with a jewel this expensive and becomes conspicuous, you’ll be killed in an instant. At worst, you won’t even die cleanly—you might be sold as a slave.”
“……”
Now it seemed he understood. His face stiffened, and then he spoke cautiously.
“Then could you please keep this for me, Auntie?”
“…I’m not your aunt.”
“Then what should I call you?”
“Call me ‘noona’.”
“That seems strange — you look a lot older than me, though.”
Wow, he teases while smiling.
“Anyway, if you keep this, I’ll come back to get it later.”
“No. If you want to deposit a jewel, go to the bank.”
“But you told me not to walk around carrying it.”
How does he refuse to give in to even a single word?
“Couldn’t you come with me to the bank?”
“……”
“They won’t open a bank account for someone my age, so please hold it under your name for now.”
“…Kid.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“If you don’t call me ‘auntie,’ I’ll go with you.”
“Yes! Noona!”
Look at this one — the sprouts of trouble are already showing.
I went to the bank with the mysterious young master and deposited the pink diamond under Black Swan’s name. Since I felt uneasy about giving him the deposit certificate to carry, I completed a request form saying Black Swan would keep it.
‘How did such a headache end up on my doorstep?’
I should have been off work and home, but there I was, stuck. After refusing his insistence that I walk him home and watching him stubbornly set off alone, I returned alone to the office and cleaned the seat where he’d been sitting.
That’s when I found a small note lying on the still-new-looking cushion.
“What’s this?”
The note had a single word written on it: Accepted.
‘Did he write that?’
The youngster — whose ink was probably barely dry in the registry — had a way of responding precisely that was oddly endearing.
‘Bring an adult quickly and take the jewel away, kid.’
Please, let’s not get tangled up again. Both of us.
After getting home later than usual, Anna had gone off to prepare my bath when a servant from the gambling house arrived and gave me a letter.
‘Sigh…’
Inside it was a horrifying message: my father, Viscount Deli, was in the middle of his final bet at the gambling house; by the time this letter reached me, all ten of his fingers would have been cut off.
“Miss, will you go?” Anna asked cautiously after she’d finished preparing the bath. I sighed deeply.
“I must. Before my only father loses his fingers.”
Anna swallowed the emotion that rose in her voice and said, “The Viscount is always like this. Miss, you work so hard to earn money…”
“I know. If he understood that, he wouldn’t just throw it away like this.”
I couldn’t even bring myself to offer empty consolation. The money my father had poured into gambling would buy two big city mansions, if combined.
“How shall I do your makeup? The same as last time?”
“Yes. Last time the makeup was a little weak. This time lift the eyeliner more and make it thicker.”
Anna, following my orders, brought my image to life in the mirror.
My pink hair — a rare color even in the Empire — was about the same shade as the pink diamond. But that color belonged to my childhood; now it had faded, drained by my father’s gambling debts and the weariness of life.
‘My hair was once as pink as a pink diamond, too.’
I thought of the pink diamond the mysterious youngster had brought earlier. If set, it would make a very pretty jewel.
Custom-made—what a distant memory. I’ve been buying off-the-shelf pieces for years now.
Enough pitying myself — I had to go find my father.
Sharp eyeliner. Hair gathered high and swept up. Riding habit well-worn, a cloak draped over it.
‘Perfect.’
Before stepping into the gambling house I checked my look once more. Whoever the leech clinging to my father was, I wanted to leave an intimidating impression this time.
‘I won’t throw the family’s honor away like this.’
I couldn’t drag my father out like baggage, so I brought a few mercenaries from Black Swan. They gathered at the gambling house as if they were used to my requests — though I hadn’t told them where to assemble.
“Open.”
At my command the gambling house doorman smiled broadly.
“Have a good time!”
I glared at the doorman who obviously knew why I was there, then strode inside.
A choking mix of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Women wearing heavy perfume sat at tables with noblemen, gambling with them.
This place never gets comfortable.
“Where is my father?”
I grabbed a waiter weaving through the crowd with drinks. Noticing I was Miss Deli, he beckoned me to follow.
He led me to an inner room where VIPs gathered — the kind of place you can’t leave unless you declare all-in or force someone else to.
“Oh? Schmidt! My daughter!”
My father, slumped drunk, barely able to hold himself together, looked at me.
The men sitting around him nodded as if they’d expected me.
“So you are the Deli daughter the Viscount brags about.”
The sleaziest of the three reached out to shake my hand, stroking his chin as he did. I gave a single eye-smile and refused the handshake cleanly.
I don’t want to know the kind of man who rolls around in a place like this with my father.
“Father, get up.”
Suppressing my rising irritation with superhuman effort, I pulled my father to his feet.
As expected, he could barely stand on his own.
I signaled to the mercenaries standing beside me. They rolled up their sleeves and hoisted Viscount Deli onto their shoulders like they’d done it many times.
“My apologies.” I inclined my head in a small bow. Experience had taught me that needlessly provoking anyone here would only cost me.
Just as things seemed to be settling down smoothly…
“Wait.”
Someone called out to stop me. One of the men who had been gambling in the same room spoke. He wore a black mask and had equally black hair; he flashed golden eyes with interest.
“The Viscount owes me three fingers… If he leaves like this, whose fingers should I cut?”
I lifted my chin and folded my arms.
“How much?”
“3,000,000 Tiga.”
“……Pay them and let’s go.”
I called over a passing waiter and handed him three cheques — emergency money I’d taken from the mansion before leaving, each for 1,000,000 Tiga.
“Deliver these to that man.”
The waiter looked puzzled at my order to hand them to the man right in front of him, but he did so without further comment.
“Now can we leave?”
“We hope to see you again, Miss.”
I ignored the man’s farewell and turned away.
‘I really hate this place.’
Watching my father’s back as he was carried away by the mercenaries, I bit my lip hard.
How long will I have to live like this?
