The Countess's Body Has Disappeared - Chapter 1

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 1
1-1. The Utterly Villainous Swindler
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I’ve never seen a will before, so I’m not sure if I’m writing this correctly. In any case, this is Cecilia’s testament, so please don’t ever throw it away!
1. Please bury the body in the Common Graveyard without any embalming. Refer to the address on the back.
2. I wish to be buried in the ground without a coffin, and with my face turned upward. Please cover me with soil as lightly as possible. I’ve always hated sleeping under thick quilts.
3. Please place the Travel Bag under my bed and 500,000 Burnet as travel funds inside the grave together. You may check what’s in the Travel Bag, but under no circumstances should you remove the Romance Novel inside.
Ah, the travel funds are a ‘minimum’ of 500,000 Burnet. The more you place, the better.
4. Do not write any titles like “Countess” on my tombstone. Flowery phrases are also forbidden. Leave no trace of the Winterhold Countship on my gravestone.
5. Finally, to my husband: don’t bother raising my animals. Set them free in the forest around the Common Graveyard. You never liked them anyway.
That concludes my will.
So then, to this wretched household, this selfish husband,
farewell to you all.
* * *
“Cancel all appointments for the next three days.”
Davion burst through the door and strode across the Office with quick, decisive steps.
Liam, who had been attending to business, rose hastily and took his coat. As Davion unfastened the button that had been choking his throat and rolled up both sleeves, a black tattoo covering his muscular left arm was revealed.
The tattoo, composed of geometric patterns, resembled both roaring flames and serpent scales. He shook rain from his damp hair and, out of habit, drew out a cigarette and placed it between his lips.
“Strengthen checkpoint inspections in the streets. Show my wife’s photograph to the city constables and have them detain any woman matching her description. And bring me the entry and exit records from the checkpoints. I’ll examine those myself.”
“Do you think the lady has left the city, sir?”
“No, she should still be here. But there’s no harm in checking.”
There was no need to rush. Davion pulled a chair over and sat, turning the matter over in his mind.
Stupid woman. She’d be luxuriating in the delusion that she’d escaped flawlessly. She couldn’t possibly have imagined that he’d sell the grave just half a month after the funeral.
Davion, about to light his cigarette, paused and set the lighter down quietly.
He’d actually honored her wishes for this final act, thinking it truly was the end…
‘Was it a waste?’
Imagining Cecilia slipping away with the Travel Bag and bundles of money, he felt a heat rising in his chest.
There was no point questioning someone who wasn’t here—no answer would come back. It wasn’t mere runaway, so perplexity rose before anger.
“You made sure that boy and the townspeople stayed quiet, didn’t you?”
“Yes. They were simple folk. But sir, should we inform the Duchess of Cissledown of the lady’s ‘resurrection’?”
Davion had been born the second son of the Cissledown Duchy, and after two military campaigns, he had taken the title of Earl of Winterhold. Thus the Duchess of Cissledown referred to his mother—in other words, Cecilia’s mother-in-law.
“Mother doesn’t believe in magic or ghosts. Unless I show her my wife in person, she’ll think we’ve all gone mad and try to have us committed to a sanatorium.”
“I see.”
“Just tell her we’re exhuming the grave after winter ends. Let’s put out the immediate fire first.”
Davion withdrew a photograph of Cecilia from the drawer and laid it on the desk.
It was a portrait taken by chance before their marriage. In the photograph, Cecilia, unaccustomed to the camera, had clasped her hands together and gazed awkwardly into empty air.
Compared to her recent appearance as she resolved to escape this mansion, she was vibrant and fresh. Especially in those days, her cheeks had been round and full, a loveliness that any man would fall for at first sight.
Looking back, much had happened, yet the day the photograph was taken felt as though it were only yesterday.
Davion gazed quietly at his wife trapped in black and white paper, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
“She must have thought she could live well by slipping away from my embrace, but Cecilia has never known how to live in the world. She’s like a weed in a greenhouse.”
Liam gave a soundless assent and quietly retrieved the photograph. A confident smile had already curved Davion’s lips.
“Without a doubt, she’s collapsed somewhere by now, weeping.”
* * *
“……Ahh!”
Thump.
“Ah, that’s refreshing!”
Is this what… freedom tastes like?
Who would ever know that the woman giggling and greedily wiping foam from her lips had, merely a fortnight ago, been the renowned Countess of Winterhold?
Davion’s prediction had been half right. Cecilia was indeed still in the city, taking her time. After all, everyone believed her dead—why rush?
In truth, the 1,000,000 Burnet Davion had placed as travel funds was, objectively speaking, not a large sum. Since she couldn’t predict how events would unfold, she had to be as economical as possible.
For this reason, Cecilia was currently moving between shabby, cheap Inns on the outskirts, Travel Bag in hand. Though incandescent bulbs had long since been distributed throughout the city, most establishments still clung to oil lamps.
Even with her face hidden by a cloak, Cecilia drew eyes. A woman sitting alone among rough men was naturally conspicuous.
A man nursing whiskey at the end of the bar table sidled over and struck up a conversation.
“Miss, something troubling you? Why are you drinking so much?”
Ugh. The moment Cecilia caught the scent of tobacco, she reflexively plugged her nose.
“I’m not a miss—I’m a married woman. And it’s not trouble. I have something worth celebrating.”
“Something to celebrate?”
Cecilia nodded.
She leaned in, glanced around, then broke into a sinister smile and whispered.
“Today makes exactly two weeks since I died.”
He was thoroughly drunk. The man sent a covert signal to his companion beneath the table.
Cecilia drained one last mug of beer, then drew two silver coins from her pocket and set them on the table. She felt a few figures stirring in her wake, but merely patted her belly and belched her way toward the stairs.
Seconds later, a sharp scream pierced the darkness.
“Where in blazes did this raven come from?!”
A raven as enormous as an eagle owl was thrashing about menacingly, tearing at the men’s hair. They were the ones who had been secretly following her.
Now! Seizing the moment, Cecilia slipped into her inn room, locked the door, and wedged a chair against it.
With no one to keep the space tidy, the room was scarcely better than a pigpen. She kicked aside the scattered objects carelessly and approached the windowsill, studying the evening sky with deliberate attention.
Soon a dark shape crossed the overhead expanse at speed, banked sharply, and dove straight through the window.
“Well done, Ruby.”
A strange tongue—one no ordinary human could hear or comprehend—spilled from Cecilia’s lips.
The raven circled the room lightly before settling onto a nearby coat rack, where it folded its wings. It spoke in the same uncanny language, clicking its beak with sharp reproach.
“Please be careful, Cecilia. The males downstairs were staring at you like hawks.”
“I know. They must have caught on that I’m staying alone. We’ll leave tonight and find another inn at first light.”
With that, she pulled her Travel Bag from beneath the bed and began hurling her belongings inside haphazardly. Ruby pattered about the room in quick steps, helping with the packing.
Ruby was now formidable enough to unsettle humans, but as a chick she had spent her days in the nest alongside her siblings, mouth gaping wide, waiting for whatever scraps their mother brought home.
It was during those early days, while their mother hunted for food, that Cecilia had climbed the tree and saved Ruby from a snake slithering up toward the nest.
Her siblings had all departed on distant journeys afterward, but Ruby alone chose to remain at Cecilia’s side and become her family.
“So when exactly are you planning to leave this city?”
“Once I’ve settled on a destination. I can’t simply board a train at random.”
“I like the south. I want to go somewhere warm.”
“First let’s see if there’s a train heading south, and whether a raven can travel on one.”
In truth, Cecilia had never left The City in her entire life. Though she affected a kind of ease, a corner of her heart harbored a fear of stepping into unknown lands.
But she would have to go.
To avoid crossing paths with Davion for the rest of her days, she had to leave this place.
After tossing in her favorite Romance Novel as a final touch, Cecilia closed her Travel Bag.
The drinking was finished. She decided she would set out early tomorrow to scout the surrounding towns, and so she retired to bed.
But much like her entanglement with Davion, Cecilia had a habit of buttoning the first button wrong in nearly every endeavor. This plan would prove no exception.
Everything had begun to flow in an altogether strange direction.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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