The Countess's Body Has Disappeared - Chapter 26

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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 26
“I’ll procure two train tickets heading south for you. Leave tonight at once, you and the man who’s been caring for you.”
Esmeralda spoke in a tone closer to command than suggestion, so forceful that Cecilia nearly found herself nodding along.
“What? Wait, just—hold on. Wait, Esmeralda.”
Barely recovering her composure, she pushed Esmeralda’s hand away and objected firmly.
“Ruby isn’t here. Ruby is my family! I’m not going anywhere without Ruby!”
Apart from her working hours, the past week had been spent accosting street birds, demanding news of Ruby’s whereabouts. The gossip had spread so thoroughly among the local aviary that pigeons now scattered at the mere sight of her white hair.
“You know better than anyone, Esmeralda. What animals mean to us!”
When her voice suddenly rose, Jeremy startled and buried his head in the folds of Cecilia’s sleeve.
To a Witch, an animal was a companion in life itself. Many Witches, unable to bear witnessing the far too-brief deaths of creatures whose lifespans paled against their own, had sought to end their own lives.
Esmeralda’s gaze lingered on Jeremy’s small tail, trembling with fear. Because she understood the desperation in Cecilia’s heart, she found herself unable to insist repeatedly that she must leave this place.
“I understand. But your husband will be coming to see a performance soon. The reserved seating has already been assigned—I can’t cancel it.”
Without minding that her expensive coat grew soiled, Esmeralda knelt in a corner of the waiting room and spoke while rummaging through a hastily assembled wardrobe set up there.
“We can do this instead. I’ll write down when the performance begins and ends. During that time, switch places with a colleague working in an inconspicuous area. And don’t go anywhere near the Grand Theater, no matter what.”
What she pulled from the wardrobe was a black wig.
“Dyeing your hair immediately would be difficult, so wear this instead. Don’t forget to check your face every hour.”
Because she had to pay Arcan’s hospital bills and hotel fees, she couldn’t quit the cleaning work today. She could move to a cheaper hotel to save on lodging, but then Ruby wouldn’t be able to find her.
Sunfield Square Garden was the largest building in the city, containing five theaters. If she was assigned to a section far removed from the Grand Theater where Esmeralda’s performance was held, encountering Davion would be virtually impossible.
Cecilia took the wig with renewed resolve.
At least Arcan was having his bandages removed—a small mercy in misfortune. She needed to remind him to prepare for their departure the moment Ruby returned.
Of course, there was no guarantee that Arcan would accompany her south. From the beginning, they had agreed to stay together only until he could move about independently on his own, and she only until she could elude surveillance.
Even if Arcan refused to accompany her, she had no intention of persuading him. She had decided from the start to leave alone, and besides, Arcan was a man with a clear purpose—pursuing drug dealers.
Slinging the handbag containing the wig over her shoulder, Cecilia waited for Arcan on the stairs at the entrance.
Yet strangely, he was nowhere to be seen near the theater, though he always came to meet her.
Had he gone to the Hospital again? Thinking it an unusually taxing day, Cecilia pulled her hood low and moved forward.
* * *
Deep in East Hallow lay a shabby gun shop.
It was a very old establishment, existing long before the back alleys of the small town of Urbanbrick were ever called ‘East Hallow.’ Because of this, it bore no sign, yet people found their way there through word of mouth, and the footsteps of those seeking weapons never ceased.
At the very moment Cecilia trudged back toward the Hotel alone with no other choice, Arcan was examining a gun in that shop.
The gun Cecilia had obtained by chance during her kidnapping had broken down, and before long, it wouldn’t even load.
Cecilia’s health was poor, and Arcan himself had limited mobility. If they happened upon any thugs on the street, both of them would be defenseless. So he had decided it was wise to carry at least one weapon for protection.
“Nowadays people ask for automatic pistols quite often. Seven rounds per magazine, and the reload is quick.”
As Arcan was examining a revolver, an old man with a beard grown long to his chest placed an automatic pistol on the counter and spoke. The black tattoos covering his face suggested he had lived a life far from ordinary.
All seven rounds were loaded in the magazine, though the gun itself remained unchambered.
It was a weighty gun that looked powerful. Arcan verified there were no other customers in the shop before lowering his voice.
“I came because I heard this is a place that doesn’t check identification, but I was wondering if….”
“Long as you pay properly, it’s fine.”
The old man grinned, showing blackened teeth. True to the character of an old East Hallow gun merchant.
“I’ll take this one.”
Arcan took the gun, secured it at his waist, then slid five bills across the counter. He hadn’t told Cecilia to avoid worrying her, but the truth was he too had been doing odd jobs at the Hotel and scraping together spare change in his free moments.
He couldn’t carry a gun to his workplace, so while he was here, it might be good to purchase a pocket knife that Cecilia could use.
Just as Arcan was about to examine the weapons on display next, a car suddenly stopped outside the storefront window with a loud noise, its driver’s door opening as someone stepped out.
A silhouette billowing a long coat moved without hesitation toward the gun shop’s entrance.
It was an expensive sedan, rarely seen in back alleys. Arcan’s spine instinctively chilled, and he quickly concealed himself behind the display case.
But the moment he saw the figure emerge through the door, he could only doubt his own eyes.
‘…Davion Systemdown Winterhall?’
Black hair, black eyes. Due to his thick brows and sharp gaze, his face was handsome yet carried a certain severity.
The two of them were military academy juniors and seniors, one year apart. Seven years ago, they had served together during deployment to Calita. After returning from deployment, they had lost contact, learning of each other only through occasional rumors that reached them, but…
Arcan held his breath and stilled all sound.
He’d heard Davion had contracted smallpox, yet his appearance looked perfectly intact. As he leaned against the counter and rolled up both sleeves, tattoos covering his left arm became visible—tattoos that hadn’t been there during their deployment together.
‘He could have someone else procure anything he wanted. Why did he come here in person?’
More than curious, he felt suspicious. From the way he didn’t even glance at the weapons display, it seemed he was here to buy something else.
“Do you happen to carry anything like long handcuffs here?”
Besides guns, this shop also sold hunting traps and gunpowder.
The old man placed a pair of steel handcuffs on the counter. The clattering, rattling sound of the chain links striking each other sounded threateningly unsettling.
“These look like they’d hurt too much….”
Davion murmured while examining the handcuffs.
He scanned his eyes over the section where traps were displayed, then asked the old man a question.
“A dog’s leash, for instance—those break easily, right?”
“What for? I need to know the purpose to pick out the right item for you.”
“I’m not certain we’ll actually need it, but we would have to confine someone to a room about a hundred square feet. The sort of person who’s been pampered since birth, coddled like a house cat—the outside world would be rather detrimental in several ways…….”
Davion’s words trailed off gradually.
When he suddenly turned his head, Arcan, startled, straightened against the display case.

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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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