The Countess's Body Has Disappeared - Chapter 10

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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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Chapter 10
Cecilia sighed as she walked along the busy street, where cars honked their way past relentlessly.
Arkan had been right. There was medicine, and she’d tucked what little money she had into her Handbag—so the worst was averted. The immediate problem was finding somewhere to stay, but…
Arkan limped toward the outer edge of the sidewalk, speaking as he went.
“Don’t worry too much—I can arrange the money if it comes to that. You’ll only make your condition worse if you fret.”
He flashed his white teeth in a grin, and Cecilia snorted despite herself. Here was a man who couldn’t walk properly without Crutches, yet confidence oozed from him.
“Are you insane? How are you supposed to make money when you can barely walk?”
“It’s a husband’s duty to provide for his wife, isn’t it? There’s always a way.”
With that, he gave her a cheeky wink to lift her spirits. Cecilia’s expression turned to stone—as if she were chewing gravel—and she touched her left ear absently before shaking her head.
“No. We decided to be independent, so I should face these things. I’ll find temporary work until my bag turns up.”
So how much was left in her pocket? She was counting on her fingers as they walked when she slowed her pace at the entrance to an old bookshop tucked into an alley.
It was a place she’d always stopped at whenever she’d run errands alone in the city. When Cecilia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the storefront, Arkan seemed to read her mind like a mind reader and suggested it first.
“We have quite a bit of time before lunch. Shall we go in?”
Color bloomed across Cecilia’s face.
“Really? We can?”
“Of course. Just because we’re in flight doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a little leisure, does it?”
He took her Handbag and slung it over his own shoulder, then opened the bookshop door for her.
A bell chimed as they stepped inside, and the smell of aged paper greeted them. It was cramped and cluttered, much like Aida’s pharmacy.
The owner sat at the counter with both ankles crossed, his face hidden behind a magazine, fast asleep. A black cat with its rear against his legs blinked slowly at Cecilia.
While Arkan browsed the shop, Cecilia picked up a random book and pretended to read, then coughed softly and slipped deeper inside.
The truth was, her reason for coming into this shop was obvious.
‘It’s here!’
Just as she’d hoped—a new volume had arrived.
Cecilia had been deeply immersed in a particular adult romance novel series for years now. She was hurriedly flipping through the pages, skimming the contents, when a horrified voice fell from just behind her.
“Good heavens. Such indecent literature is being sold openly in this country…”
Gasp!
Cecilia let out a shriek, and Arkan, startled in turn, quickly clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Shh. We’re in a bookshop!”
Cecilia’s heart hammered in her chest. Arkan held his index finger to his lips for a moment, and once she seemed to have calmed down somewhat, he released her face.
“When—when did you…”
He bent down to read the title of the book she was holding. His expression twisted as if he’d witnessed something terribly ugly, and he whispered low.
“‘The Count and the Chambermaid’s Secret Tryst’? Even if commoners have risen in the world, a Class-gap Marriage is as forbidden as they come… Do you really think a count and a chambermaid could ever be together in reality?”
“What? Are you doing this on purpose right now?!”
“I beg your pardon?”
Suddenly Cecilia’s temper flared, and Arkan’s eyes went wide with surprise all over again.
Oh no. Cecilia realized her slip too late, straightened up, and cleared her throat awkwardly.
“I mean—it’s a novel. I enjoy this series, so don’t criticize it. I’d really like to see this series through to the end before I die.”
“Your taste is certainly peculiar.”
Cecilia closed the book so he couldn’t peek at the contents and said nothing more. In the silence, Arkan seemed to mull something over, then eventually shrugged and spoke.
“Well, come to think of it, it’s not entirely impossible. Rumor has it that the late Countess of Winterhall was herself born a chambermaid in that household.”
Cecilia wordlessly slid the book back onto the shelf, and he called out more loudly.
“Aren’t you buying it?”
“I need to save money until I find my bag. And besides—that’s not a rumor.”
“Pardon?”
“Davion Sistledown, the Count of Winterhall. He really did marry a chambermaid.”
Speaking that name aloud for the first time in ages felt like thorns pricking the tip of her tongue. Without meaning to, Cecilia’s body trembled as she continued.
“The Duchess of Sistledown was worried about her son’s honor being tarnished, so she spread the story that it was just a rumor. But anyone born and raised in this city knows the Countess of Winterhall was the household’s chambermaid.”
Something like a sigh escaped her. Cecilia’s shoulders rose and fell slightly. Then, as she squeezed past the narrow shelves, she turned to Arkan with a smile.
“Otherwise, why would the two of them have run off to the countryside to marry?”
* * *
A month had passed since Cecilia disappeared—or rather, “came back to life.”
Davion’s days moved like clockwork. When there were no pressing appointments, he spent every moment searching for Cecilia. Each early morning he’d call the checkpoints to ask if a woman matching her description had been found, and when they said yes, he’d take Liam and rush there immediately.
When they said no, it made little difference. He spent at least three hours every day driving around the city looking for Cecilia anyway. Yet for all that grinding effort, he had not found even a single strand of her hair.
It was as if his wife had simply evaporated from within the city.
His cigarette consumption grew with each passing day of anxiety. These days, it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that Davion was sustaining himself on smoke instead of food.
Today too, cigarette perpetually in his mouth, Davion waited in the basement of the estate for Liam to emerge. In the midst of this, a cat with gray markings passed over the nearby fence.
“You there.”
Speaking quietly so the security officers guarding the basement wouldn’t hear, he called to the cat.
“Where is Cecilia?”
The cat stopped abruptly and turned its head to gaze at Davion steadily. Perhaps because it was winter and its fur had grown thick, Davion found the cat’s expression quite imposing and fierce.
“Cecilia, that’s who. A beautiful woman with white hair and blue eyes.”
The cat blinked at him, and Davion’s thick brows drew closer together. He slowly rubbed out his cigarette against the wall.
……Could it actually understand him?
“About this tall, with a dimple right here when she smiles, and she has a particularly beautiful voice when she sings…….”
“My lord.”
Davion cleared his throat awkwardly and turned around.
The moment Liam appeared, the cat bolted under the wall in a flash. Liam stood there with his sleeves rolled up forcefully, looking as if he’d just wrestled a bull.
“He can speak, but he’s not in his right mind from withdrawal. He doesn’t even understand what we’re asking him.”
The ruffian apprehended in Easthalrow was indeed a Lampi addict. Lampi’s severe addictiveness was troublesome enough, but its withdrawal symptoms were equally notorious.
After wiping sweat from his neck, Liam belatedly straightened his disheveled hair with an “ah.” Davion noticed a single streak of blood on his shirt. He unfastened his wristwatch and asked quietly.
“Did he hurt himself?”
“No, it’s not that. But…….”
Liam wrinkled his nose and whispered, barely suppressing a smile.
“He couldn’t hold his urine. The smell is absolutely vile.”
“Not surprising. Once I’m in there, make sure no one comes near this area.”
“Yes, sir.”
Liam took Davion’s watch as he answered.
Davion rolled both his sleeves up firmly as if preparing for some solemn ritual, then locked the door the moment he entered the basement.
Despite the acrid stench that hung in the air, he didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. It was the sort of stink he’d grown accustomed to in the trenches of the battlefield. If anything, he felt a strange sense of comfort, as though he’d returned home.
The ruffian was bound at all four limbs to an iron chair.

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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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