The Countess's Body Has Disappeared - Chapter 40

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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 40
He didn’t think Davion had gone into the Cottage at this hour. Where on earth had he gone?
Just as he was about to give up, kicking pebbles listlessly back toward the Manor, a small, luminous figure flickered beneath the sprawling plane trees at the mouth of the Rear Mountain path.
The moment Davion drew near, his breath caught in his throat.
Cecilia lay asleep on the grass, dressed in nothing but a transparent Negligee.
A gentle breeze rippled through her dazzling white hair, and she stirred with a soft murmur.
“Mmm……”
In her sleep, she threw her right arm up over her head, and the disheveled Negligee slipped open to reveal soft, porcelain-pale skin underneath.
Davion found himself staring without thinking, then clapped a hand over his mouth in alarm. He felt the hot rush of blood rising through his neck, flooding with Adrenaline.
Cecilia rolled onto her side, crossing her slender calves, and let out a long sigh.
Between her barely parted lips peeked small, adorable front teeth. Before he knew it, Davion had imagined something shameless—touching them with his tongue—and the world tilted. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Idiot. Who sleeps this defenseless? What if someone came by……?
Though worry gnawed at him, the dizziness forced him to drop to his knees where he stood.
Her bare feet were caked with dried earth. As Davion stared at her small soles, an overwhelming urge seized him—to tickle them. He swallowed hard.
Looking around, he spotted some Foxtail Grass swaying nearby in the brush.
He plucked a strand and gently brushed it across her sole. Cecilia’s toes twitched and she whimpered softly before gradually stirring awake.
“What are you doing?”
She lifted her head to glare at him, and Davion broke into an impish grin.
“Good afternoon.”
Good afternoon, nothing. Cecilia rolled her eyes in disbelief, then stretched both arms and flopped back down onto the grass.
Showing no sign of getting up, she prompted Davion to tease her further, dragging the Foxtail Grass across her sole again.
“The sun’s high in the sky. Shouldn’t you be getting up?”
“Don’t you have anything to do?”
“Nothing. That’s why I came by. Thought there might be something I could help with.”
After a few more moments of squirming, Cecilia finally sat up and rubbed her face with her hands. Davion quickly plucked grass clippings from her hair with both hands. He noticed her ears were quite small.
“How tall are you?”
She smelled of sun-dried grass. Caught in that fresh fragrance, Davion hesitated a moment before answering.
“One hundred eighty-nine centimeters. I measured it recently, so it should be accurate. Would you like to know my weight too?”
“Never mind the weight. Have you ever worked with a Hammer before?”
“I’m a soldier. Ask me something worth asking.”
Cecilia looked him up and down, then got to her feet and brushed off her backside.
“Come on then. There’s something only you can do.”
Davion found himself dragged by his shirt-tail toward the Cottage. But contrary to what he expected, Cecilia didn’t stop at the modest living room or kitchen—she climbed the stairs toward the second floor.
The moment they stepped into her bedroom, Davion wondered if he was dreaming a pleasant dream.
Cecilia’s bedroom resembled the servants’ quarters he’d once stumbled into by mistake as a child. A single bed sat against the left wall, fitted with shelves, while across from it stood a wardrobe and a writing desk.
Here too, unmistakably, hung Cecilia’s scent—lavender, his favorite, threaded through with a faintly tart grassy note.
Various odds and ends lay scattered across the wooden floor. Careful not to step on them, he picked up a Novel resting on one corner of the desk.
“The Captain’s secret pastime……?”
“Now, now—don’t touch things without asking. If you’re in a lady’s room, show some manners.”
Cecilia had slipped up beside him and snatched the book away with a swift motion. Then she thrust a long, cylindrical Curtain Rod and a Hammer into his hands.
“It gets bright at five in the morning, and I can’t sleep.”
Davion followed her gaze and spotted evidence of a failed attempt to hang curtains. Beneath it sat a chair she must have stood on.
He smiled, squinting his eyes as he spoke.
“If you can’t do it yourself, why not ask the people over at the main house?”
“I know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Her perfectly logical answer left him with nothing to say in return. In that moment, he understood.
This girl has me confused with someone else entirely.
How many other soldiers are there at the Manor? As Davion racked his memory of the employee roster he’d glimpsed once, he got to work with the Hammer while Cecilia perched on the bed to watch.
Her gaze made him so nervous that he nearly brought the Hammer down on his thumb instead of the nail. He was grateful indeed that all ten fingers had survived the curtain installation.
“How is it?”
Davion stepped back to give her a clear view of the curtains. His heart was pounding—he felt like a student nervously awaiting a teacher’s evaluation of difficult homework.
“Perfect. Thanks to you, I can finally sleep in now.”
Fortunately, Cecilia rose from the bed wearing a satisfied smile.
“Wait a moment before you go.”
She dragged a chair to the opposite side of the bed, climbed up on it, and retrieved a bag of Candy from the shelf. Then she dropped three pieces of brightly colored sweets into Davion’s open palm, barely stifling her laughter.
“Here, Candy. A reward for your trouble.”
“Hard work deserves more than three pieces?”
“Not enough? You can have more if you want.”
“No, this is fine.”
Davion chuckled and tossed a pink lozenge into his mouth.
“Sweet.”
Cecilia’s praise tasted of strawberries.
* * *
The Cottage was perfect in every way. Cold in winter, sweltering in summer—and yes, the second-floor ceiling leaked whenever it rained or snowed—yet for Cecilia, Betty, and her two animals to huddle together in, there was no better fit.
But if Cecilia had one complaint about the Cottage, it was the plumbing.
“This blasted thing, again!”
Cecilia, incensed from head to toe, kicked at the bathtub fitted with its tap. Whatever the problem was, the Cottage’s plumbing broke down at all hours, leaving her unable to bathe.
“Just get some rest for tonight. You don’t smell that bad.”
Ruby, who had been perched on the tap, flew down and gripped the edge of the tub with both feet.
He’d been wrestling with the plumbing just as long as Cecilia had—though with little to show for it.
“You won’t die from missing one bath. I’ve gone a whole week without washing.”
“You’re a crow, Ruby. Humans don’t have feathers, so even a day without bathing and we start to reek.”
“But Nagi doesn’t bathe either. And he doesn’t have feathers!”
“True, but Nagi takes a sand shower once a day without fail. When you think about it, he’s far more fastidious than we are.”
No matter how many times she turned the tap, the result was always the same. Her outburst moments before had sent sweat streaming down her back in thick rivulets.
At this rate, she’d be too uncomfortable to sleep. She’d borrowed the servants’ bath at the Manor before when the plumbing failed, but it was far too late for that now.
Cecilia sat slumped against the tub, lost in thought. Then she gathered her clothes and toiletries, and spoke with resolve.
“That’s it. I’ll wash outside.”

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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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