Chapter 18
When Scarlett collapsed into sleep as if fainting, Victor immediately began searching her room. Common sense told him something wasn’t right.
The person who knew the tram engineers hidden within Salantie most clearly was none other than himself.
He thought the nobles were blinded by short-term gains and doing something insane. The neighboring countries around Salantie were all smaller in scale, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t start a war. Especially if he were a politician of one of those countries, he would see no prey more tempting than Salantie—still recovering from a war with pirates.
And yet Salantie had spent nearly ten years suppressing scientific progress. They were even dismantling the already-advanced Towers of Science.
Victor opposed war, and that was precisely why he believed stronger military power was necessary. He had come to believe that the best way to prevent war was to build military strength.
That meant scientists and engineers were essential. He needed inventors as brilliant as the late Earl and Countess Crimson, who had died in an accident. That was why he searched for such engineers without the royal family’s knowledge. His visit to inspect the broken tram—under the pretext of lending support to the police—was for that reason.
But there, inside a box, he had found Scarlett Crimson.
Though the legitimate daughter of the Crimsons, she had never been taught anything by her uncle. Yet here she was, repairing trams and fixing clocks.
In the end, while Scarlett had fallen asleep in a panic, Victor searched her room—and found this.
Now his subordinates gathered at his residence were staring gravely at the biplane blueprint spread before them.
Palin spoke first.
“Are you saying Madam really drew this? A biplane design?”
“That’s what I said.”
Palin grabbed at his red hair with both hands.
“This is crazy. If this gets exposed, the High Priest will target her. Fanatical zealots will attack. What was Madam thinking…?”
The one thing religion could never tolerate was flight.
Evan, who never minced words, remarked:
“Just because there’s a blueprint doesn’t mean it can actually fly. Let’s be reasonable. Even the Crimson couple never succeeded in completing a biplane while alive.”
“Is that… true?”
“But even if it can’t fly, we need to at least build the form. That way, Salantie won’t be so easy to provoke.”
“That’s right. At this point, we need to lie and say we have flying capability.”
Hope chimed in from the side.
But Evan countered,
“Even just building the form would put her life at risk.”
Victor sat in his chair, silently watching his men’s heated discussion.
The Navy’s elite Rubid unit had originally been selected as an air corps. Likewise, the Army had drawn its own cadets for flight. Both groups had been left with nothing but the name of “special forces” after the Crimson couple died in their accident, ending their research into flight.
Despite receiving secret, almost torturous training as pilot cadets, the most they had left was a glider that could manage a mere one minute and twenty seconds of flight—barely enough for a sniper’s one-way drop.
Evan’s words were grounded in reality. Sometimes just boasting of having aircraft could make Vestina hesitate in its war calculations.
Victor propped his chin on his palm, lost in thought.
There were times he still felt angry that Scarlett had left him.
She had done everything she could for her husband, constantly marveling at how happy she was in this marriage.
If her love had been to give him everything, then what was this—leaving him as though never to see him again, and now threatening to kill him if she ever saw him?
Pathetically, once he lost what he had once possessed, a hollow emptiness gnawed at him.
Victor laughed at himself for being so petty.
He had never even asked her to love him. Yet once he’d grown accustomed to that overwhelming love, how was he supposed to endure her turning her back and walking away?
Finally, he spoke.
“She must have drawn this blueprint knowing she could be executed for it.”
Silence briefly settled over the table.
Victor continued.
“Why else would she make such a detailed plan if she had no intention of building it?”
Palin, tender-hearted despite his large frame, stammered:
“But it’s too dangerous…”
“Isn’t all of Salantie in danger without an air force?”
“…That’s true.”
Silence again.
While the others shifted uneasily, Victor turned to Blight.
“Does Scarlett have a good memory? Enough to recall a design she saw before the age of twelve?”
“I’m not sure.”
Victor pictured Scarlett’s clear eyes, then asked:
“Or is it possible for someone to suddenly recall something they saw in childhood?”
“I… don’t know.” Blight hesitated.
Victor suddenly remembered the day Scarlett had been interrogated by the Royal Police.
He still couldn’t understand her behavior that day. They would never have tortured a lady. If Scarlett had told him otherwise, the Royal Police would have been disbanded immediately.
“I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”
“I really don’t remember. I must have lost my mind for a moment.”
Scarlett had always had a tendency to behave as if painful events had never happened once they were over. He assumed that confessing her weakness—under the lure of medicine for Isaac and pressure from the police—had been so unbearable that she clung to denial, insisting she couldn’t remember.
Scarlett Dumfelt had always been someone who did whatever he asked. For her, throwing away her life for the man she loved had been so natural that it wasn’t even worth thinking about.
She was someone who would hand over her very heart if she loved, someone who would do anything to be loved. Yet when that love visibly cooled after only two years of marriage, when she finally betrayed him, Victor had wanted nothing more than to die with her somewhere, together.
More painful than having his shame exposed was the fact that the one person who had loved him—the one person in the world, since not even his mother had—had now changed her heart.
Scarlett, however, had no leisure to be frightened. She had a shop, employees, and family to care for.
She wanted to rush to Victor immediately, but there was no time to visit his residence. Not until the following Wednesday, when she happened to have business near the consulate.
Three tram stops from Seventh Street lay a vast lake. Riding the tram circling its shore, or taking a raft across its center, would bring one to Rilson Square—the administrative hub. The Navy’s residences were there.
Her neighbor, Liv, followed Scarlett as she went to meet Isaac.
“He’s a regular customer who loves our fig bread and apple cake. I have to see his face at least once.”
“What for?”
“They say he looks just like you. So he must be handsome, right?”
Liv spoke honestly, carrying a basket of bread as they walked.
When they arrived at the small pier where the lake raft docked, they found many women gathered, murmuring excitedly. Their voices rose louder as Isaac appeared on the opposite shore.
Wearing a middle-class work suit Scarlett had bought him, Isaac was catching every woman’s eye. His large build—heir to a blacksmith’s blood—combined with a warm presence and handsome face drew people to him.
Upon docking, Isaac secured the raft with a hook and pulley, then held out a gloved hand to the first passenger.
“Your hand, please.”
The waiting woman blushed as she placed her hand in his. He helped passengers aboard one by one until, midway, his face lit with a smile.
“Scarlett?”
“How did you know?”
“I’d know your footsteps anywhere.”
He said this as he helped Scarlett onto the raft.
Scarlett introduced her companion.
“This is my friend, Liv.”
“Ah, the bakery lady.” Isaac said as he took Liv’s hand and guided her aboard.
“I always enjoy your bread.”
At his words, Liv stared at him as if entranced, nodding dumbly.
Isaac pulled the rope and the raft began to glide across the water, the lake’s beauty spreading out before them.
After going across and returning, Isaac’s lunch break began, and he disembarked.
He seemed used to this place now, tapping his cane as he made his way to a bench by a campfire near the lake. Liv, who was supposed to deliver the bread and leave, only gazed at him with a dazed look.
Scarlett reminded her:
“Won’t your boss scold you if you don’t go back?”
“It’s fine…” Liv murmured dreamily.
“Didn’t she say there were a lot of orders today? You should hurry back.”
“Huh? Oh!” Liv snapped back to her senses.
“I have to go! I have to go now!”
“Take care on your way.”
Isaac’s farewell nearly made her stumble. Scarlett hurried to steady her, and Liv ran off at last.
