The Countess's Body Has Disappeared - Chapter 39

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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 39
What possible danger could be lurking in this Manor that warranted carrying a gun?
As Cecilia let out a sigh, Davion lifted one corner of his mouth into an arrogant smile. Inside the house were Nagi and Ruby. Concerned for them, Cecilia extended her hand before Davion and spoke firmly.
“Hand over the gun. Otherwise, you won’t set foot inside our home.”
It was a simpler condition than he’d expected. He’d imagined something more grandiose—an oath not to touch anything, perhaps.
When Davion willingly drew out the gun and handed it over, Cecilia glanced around before rising onto her tiptoes and setting it on the nearest windowsill—just a few centimeters higher than her line of sight. Davion deliberately said nothing about this fact, instead clearing his throat and stepping inside.
“Grandmother’s sleeping. Come in quietly.”
The Cottage was even smaller than his bedroom.
An old two-seater sofa and a table with white paint peeling in patches. The space where those two pieces sat alone was hardly worthy of being called a living room, yet it was suffused with human warmth—intimate and cozy.
On the left side of the living room was a kitchenette, small as a toy. Cecilia, eyeing Davion as he followed, placed a lid over the basket on the sink. Davion, letting slip a quiet laugh, tactfully overlooked the raw fish inside.
‘Is that… lavender?’
Strangely, the Cottage carried a pleasant scent. It didn’t take Davion long to realize it came from Cecilia herself. She was like a living perfume.
But as he set down the bread basket on the table, his brow furrowed.
A single black crow sat on the chair like it owned the place, blinking its raisin-like eyes and staring directly at him.
“What is this crow doing here?”
Davion reached out with one hand—as large as a pot lid—to shoo Ruby away. But before he could, Cecilia shrieked and rushed over, pushing him with her entire body.
“Don’t you dare!”
The startled Ruby flapped its wings and leaped from the chair. Cecilia fixed Davion with an intense stare, her voice laced with fury.
“I’ve raised her since she was a chick. She’s practically my child—how could you lay a hand on her!”
“I mean, keeping a crow like a child…”
“If you’re going to complain, get out!”
She stretched out her long arm, pointing toward the door, looking like a bomb about to explode.
She was a terrifying little tyrant. One more word from him, and she’d literally throw him out on his backside. So Davion simply stood silent, watching as Cecilia carefully cradled the crow and tossed it out the window.
Cecilia stalked past him with her shoulders hunched high, stomping as she went. When she turned on the sink water, Davion’s mind finally cleared. He brushed the black feathers from the chair, sat down, and crossed his arms.
“All right, I’m sorry. Still, since I’ve come all this way, couldn’t you offer your guest at least a cup of tea?”
“Absolutely not…”
But instead of tea, what Cecilia brought was a glass of plain water and a peach. When Davion picked up the peach and raised an eyebrow, she showed him a measure of kindness by lending him a Knife as well.
Clack.
“Peel it yourself.”
Davion let out a hollow laugh at the old Knife she set down before him.
As he peeled the peach skin, Cecilia sat across from him, plucking at the bread in the basket. Her glare was so piercing that Davion’s face actually began to sting.
“I hear you’re quite the talker, yet you’re hardly saying a word.”
“Then you talk. Do you think I’m a jester?”
“What?”
Davion paused mid-peel, raising his head in confusion.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I don’t have interesting stories. I spend all day here with Grandmother—where would they come from? So you talk. I’m a Chorus specialist.”
But Davion himself was, for all intents and purposes, a “Chorus specialist.” He recalled conversations he’d overheard from passing servants and forced out a topic he thought might interest Cecilia.
“Well… do you know why the eldest son of this family was expelled from the Military Academy?”
“No idea.”
“He struck a senior with an ashtray.”
Cecilia let the piece of bread she was holding drop onto the table.
Her muttered aside cut through Davion’s chest like a knife.
“That’s not funny…”
He thought it might be better to just stay silent. After an awkward cough, he resumed peeling the peach, but Cecilia rummaged through the basket and asked:
“What about the second young master? Don’t you have any stories about him?”
Davion nearly dropped the Knife in surprise.
He’d suspected it from her behavior thus far. But to think she truly doesn’t know who I am.
Being confirmed in this way stirred conflicting emotions. He felt a surge of joy at the thought of growing closer, yet at the same time, a pang of loneliness. It meant she’d been living here all this time with absolutely no interest in him.
“What would you like to know about the second young master?”
“What? I’m not particularly curious. I just want an interesting story about him.”
She sucked on her finger, which was smeared with strawberry jam, and spoke casually. Yet despite the careless response, her blue eyes sparkled with unmistakable anticipation.
Davion relaxed his tense shoulders and smiled softly.
“For one, he’s handsome.”
“Well, since the lady is beautiful, I suppose he must be too.”
“He’s intelligent. He graduated at the top of the Military Academy.”
“Ah, so he worked hard during his school days?”
“And he’s tall. Roughly twice your height, I’d say?”
“What?”
Cecilia scrunched her face at the insult before breaking into a giggle.
“That doesn’t make sense. If it’s that bad, you need to see a doctor right away.”
“Oh, is it?”
Davion laughed along with her. The atmosphere had grown noticeably more relaxed, so he gathered his courage and asked the first question.
“How old are you?”
Cecilia paused in making the sandwich and glanced sideways at him before answering.
“Twenty-two, now that my birthday’s passed.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“March third. And you?”
“I was born in winter.”
“No, I mean your age.”
Davion had turned twenty-four last year. But if he told the truth, a powerful instinct whispered that they would slip right back into that difficult dynamic. He couldn’t let that happen.
She had only just opened her heart to him, this sharp-tongued girl before him. He wouldn’t risk it.
“My birthday comes late, so I’m about two years younger than you.”
“Really?”
As a bright smile bloomed across Cecilia’s face, Davion knew he had made the right choice.
She leaned forward across the table, reaching out her hand, her voice growing warmer.
“Here, give it to me. Let your older sister peel it for you.”
It was from this moment that Davion’s long lie began.
2-2. First Kiss
Blake was a woman of exacting discipline.
She never left her bedchamber in nightclothes. Her morning briefing was held at eight o’clock without fail, even in the event of natural disaster. Once the servants had finished their reports, she would dress and take her breakfast in the morning room.
Meals never extended past an hour. Her palate cleanser afterward was always chilled champagne or red wine. And at eleven, she took tea with her son, who had recently returned from his posting, and conversed with him.
At least, such was her plan.
“You seem to be going out rather often these days. Don’t you think it’s time you spent some time with this lonely mother of yours?”
Blake sat on the sofa with her legs crossed, reading the morning paper, and voiced her complaint as she adjusted her spectacles. The moment Davion drained his teacup, he rose and began preparing to rush out.
He tousled his black hair gently and turned to his mother with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“The weather is beautiful, you know. Kalita is swept by sandstorms all year round, so I’ve been missing a landscape like this. When I’m outside, I lose all track of time.”
“There’s no holding you back when you speak like that.”
Blake sighed and waved her hand through the air as if to send him on his way.
The moment permission was granted, Davion bounded down the Manor steps three at a time and rushed toward the Cottage in the Field.
Yet strangely, Cecilia’s white hair was nowhere to be found. Not at the Stream Bank, not in the clearing behind the Cottage, not among the flower beds nearby.

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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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