The Countess's Body Has Disappeared - Chapter 76

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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 76
3. Theodore
3-1. The Prodigal of Shilsdown
Preamble
Look me in the eyes.
If my brother doesn’t come home,
I’ll stake everything I have and take responsibility for you, I promise.
Cecilia.
To you, whose name I cannot speak.
* * *
Theodore Shilsdown was a boy who followed his father with unusual devotion.
The moment Blake bore Theodore at fifteen, she entrusted him to Betty and departed for her studies abroad.
Thirty years ago from now was the very period when university doors were just beginning to open to women. Naturally, family censure was fierce, but Blake turned her back on everything and left. After all, she too had once dreamed of something beyond being a housewife.
In any case, Theodore’s childhood belonged entirely to his father. Until Blake returned and became pregnant with Davion, his father was both his closest friend and his very idol.
Perhaps that was why that winter, when he was fifteen, felt so bitterly cold.
“You absolutely cannot go!”
Theodore planted both hands firmly on the hood of the car, where snow lay in soft accumulation, and cried out loudly.
The headlights illuminated his face, flushed with cold. His thin shirt billowed like waves in the sharp wind mixed with falling snow.
Through the car window, the maid of the house sat trembling with fear in the passenger seat.
“Theodore.”
The driver’s door opened, and his father stepped out. With the rough, military hands of a soldier, he gripped Theodore’s shoulders firmly and spoke.
“Look after your brother well, listen to your mother, and carry on.”
The snow began to swirl in a frenzy. As Theodore blinked, the tears that had welled up spilled down his frozen cheeks.
“If you leave like this, I’ll never see your face again. Mother either, or my brother! You don’t care? You really don’t care at all?”
But he turned away coldly.
“…I’m sorry.”
The driver’s door slammed shut. With the roar of the engine, the rear wheels kicked up snow and spun uselessly in rapid succession.
“Get out of the way, Theodore!”
“I won’t! If you go, Father, I’ll die! I’ll die!”
But the car lurched forward, and Theodore had no choice but to leap hastily from the hood.
He lay sprawled on the cold ground, watching the car disappear in a cloud of exhaust, hollow and helpless.
“Father…”
His chest heaved, and beneath his eyelids, hot tears began to well up and stream down his face.
Soon the mansion door opened, and a young boy appeared. Dressed in pajamas, he tucked a pillow under his arm and slowly rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes.
“What are you doing out there, brother?”
When Theodore was fifteen, Davion was only nine years old. Moreover, he had been raised by Blake, so he had few memories of his father.
Because of this, the weight of the betrayal Theodore felt that night…
Davion could never truly comprehend.
.
.
.
Nine o’clock at night, as darkness deepened.
Though for some it might be time to retire to bed, it would be no exaggeration to say that for a major city, the day was only just beginning.
Along the concrete streets of the metropolis, a tram moved, carrying passengers on its rails. As the tram’s bell chimed loudly, cutting through the bustling night air, a man standing at the tram’s door leaped lightly onto the street below.
He was a tall man with a lean frame and an elegant bearing in his clothes. He shook out his dark hair, dampened by the light rain that had fallen moments before, and turned into an alley between tall buildings.
Several drunkards already lay slumped at the entrance, reeking of alcohol. He pulled open a heavy iron door, and a warm, stuffy air rushed against his face.
The tavern was filled with noise. Among tables crowded with patrons, a man spotted him and raised his hand high.
“So this is to be my last supper, then?”
Beer and appetizers had already been ordered and placed on the table.
“For a last supper, it’s rather austere. But I like it well enough.”
As Theodore took his seat, light from the overhead lamp poured down upon him.
His features were sculpted with an almost unreal precision.
Hair falling softly across his brow half-concealed his eyes, and within that shadow, the irises revealed were a soft olive color. Yet an inscrutable darkness lurked within them, lending his entire presence something subtly, dangerously enigmatic.
A nose carved straight and unadorned. A jaw angled firm and sharp. Lips that had been drawn in a thin line now parted to accept a glass of frothing beer.
“So, are you thinking of moving to Urbanbrick altogether this time?”
Three other men sat at the table besides Theodore. They had met through business in the past, but now it felt more natural to call them friends.
“Of course not. I’ll see my sister-in-law’s face and stay just a few days before I’m out. Why would I keep lingering in that household for anyone else’s sake?”
Theodore answered, wiping foam from his lips with the tip of his tongue. As he rolled up his sleeve, firm muscle hidden beneath his slender frame rippled subtly.
“After that, I’m planning to head to Seto and start a new venture.”
“Interesting. What sort of venture this time?”
“Beer. I’ve gotten word that Robena’s Prohibition Law will be lifted soon. If we don’t start preparing now, we’ll hit a snag in our exports, won’t we?”
“Your sister-in-law, you said—she came from a servant’s background?”
Theodore, who had been eating a snack, lifted his head. Expectant eyes turned toward him.
“Yes, so I’ve heard.”
“Not even a concubine, but marriage—how did he manage that?”
Theodore closed his eyes and slowly rubbed his brow with the back of his hand as he spoke.
“How should I know? Perhaps she’s an ambitious woman. Or perhaps my brother grew up to be a hopelessly gullible fool.”
It had been more than ten years since he’d left that house.
His brother would be turning twenty-six soon, he’d said. Theodore couldn’t quite picture what the grown man would look like. Even less could he imagine a servant-born sister-in-law married to him.
“But I heard your brother’s been sent on a military campaign. Maybe if you went and tried your hand, he might fold again.”
Theodore pulled himself from his thoughts and let out a low chuckle.
“I appreciate the thought, but if you’re planning to make a wager, I’m out.”
He took another sip from his glass, then set the beer down slowly before continuing.
“I’m not fool enough to bet on an outcome I can already see coming.”
.
.
.
Yet the brother’s wife—the one said to be of servant stock—was nothing like what Theodore had anticipated.
She was altogether different from his expectations.
“I—I’m honored to meet you.”
Her voice trembled as though tears might spill at any moment. Her already frail shoulders curled further inward upon themselves.
Beneath the black patterned dress and stockings, Theodore could easily picture the gaunt frame hidden beneath.
This woman was thin—emaciated, even.
Her white hair pulled back made her face visible even as she kept her gaze lowered.
Below her rounded forehead, her mascara-laden lashes fluttered like butterfly wings. The bright red lipstick on her full lips seemed out of place, as if a child had dressed in adult clothes.
It was excessive makeup. The artificial colors were actually obscuring whatever her true features might have been.
“I’m Theodore Cissildown.”
Theodore extended his right hand in greeting.
His sister-in-law offered a faint smile. But in the moment her hand instinctively reached to accept his, a throat being cleared sounded from somewhere.
Blake was seated in an armchair near the fireplace, reading a newspaper.
The woman’s already pallid face drained of blood, taking on a sickly blue cast. As she began to tremble, unable to withdraw the hand she’d already extended, Theodore caught hold of it and apologized.
“My apologies. My jest was in poor taste.”
He bent at the waist and lightly pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
“Cecilia?”
Blake’s tone sharpened at the end of his words upon noticing his daughter-in-law standing motionless. In that moment, Theodore learned his sister-in-law’s name was Cecilia.
“I—I’ve prepared a meal. Would you care to join us?”
Cecilia gestured toward the doorway, her smile carrying an unmistakable edge of anxiety.
Theodore glanced once more at Blake, who had returned to his newspaper, then slipped off his overcoat before responding.
“Is that so? Though I’m not hungry at the moment—what shall we do?”
“Then perhaps next time—”
Snap. Blake folded the newspaper roughly.

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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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