The Mansion Awaits Spring - Chapter 24

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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 24
As April smiled, remembering her childhood, Pejin folded his arms and raised one eyebrow.
“Smiling? You’re amused right now?”
“It’s from when I was a kid. Are you saying you’d be genuinely angry about that?”
“I was humiliated enough for a lifetime. Though I must admit, having such a harsh first dance partner had its merits—I mastered every step as a result.”
“Stop complimenting yourself. I’m growing more disgusted with you by the second.”
“Remarkable, that there was ever a time you found me less disgusting.”
“I’m equally amazed. There truly is no bottom to the depths.”
Even as they bickered, April held up a necklace.
Pejin deftly unlocked the intricately twisted clasp, then tilted his chin as if to ask whether he should fasten it around her neck, and spoke.
“Do you know how much your friends mocked me back then? They kept asking why you were wearing a tuxedo instead of a dress.”
April then pointed to her own neck, gathering her hair in both hands to lift it clear, and replied.
“Is it my fault you look like that?”
“Then whose fault is it?”
“It’s your face—you’re responsible for it.”
In that exchange, the Sapphire Necklace was fastened around April’s neck.
April picked up a jewel-inlaid Hand Mirror that sat on one side of her vanity and held it to her face.
As she gazed at the mirror intently, she found herself smiling without realizing it.
“It feels real now. I’m twenty-two.”
“Don’t you have mirrors?”
“It’s not that. It’s just—seeing other people’s faces makes it feel real.”
Looking at the adult woman reflected in the glass unsettled her strangely. The sapphire that had felt impossibly large when she was eight now fit her perfectly.
She found herself overlaying that twenty-year-old Heidi Basanta she had dismissed at fourteen.
It was not that she had forgiven her, exactly, but a certain compassion had risen in her chest.
That girl, so much younger than April was now, had spoken of a family steeped in piracy—and perhaps that shred of morality she possessed had crumbled entirely in that moment.
If she understood nothing at all, she would only feel anger; but understanding even a little made her pitying, and yet pitying made her angry again, because she herself would never have done such a thing.
April’s feelings toward Heidi Basanta, toward Heidi Deus, were anything but consistent.
April asked casually, as if in passing.
“How are the Grand Duke and his wife getting on? I was hoping they weren’t.”
“Still devoted to killing each other.”
At Pejin’s casual answer, April rolled her eyes.
Unbothered, Pejin continued.
“If you’re curious, see for yourself. Don’t ask me to be your go-between.”
“I’ll go look. I was planning to anyway.”
April gazed back into the mirror.
Pejin was looking at April’s face as it reflected in that mirror.
“Like the sun.”
At his words, April turned around.
“What is?”
“Your color combination.”
Pejin shrugged as if it were nothing.
Golden hair drawn from the sun, crimson eyes drawn from the sun.
April spoke.
“Are you talking about witches?”
Pejin let out a deliberately loud laugh.
“What are you saying? However you look at it, it’s the opposite combination, isn’t it?”
“That’s true enough.”
“Don’t be so afraid of the Church. You’re someone who can burn even Flame itself.”
Pejin drew out a Cigarette as he continued.
“Besides, the day the Church defeats me will never come.”
April looked up at him.
Perhaps because he had just spoken of the sun, in that moment Pejin seemed to her like night itself—a dark sky, a sea rippling with moonlight, unfathomable depths hidden within.
If you win, does that benefit me?
In other words, you’re saying you’ll protect me?
April wanted to ask him these things, but she feared appearing clingy, so she closed her mouth and turned away.
“Understood. I’ll try to worry less about that.”
“Good, thanks for the effort.”
Pejin spoke and turned to leave for a smoke. As he reached the door, he looked back at April and asked.
“When do you want to go to the Amusement Park?”
“Is everyone alive?”
“Fortunately, yes. The fog cleared, we searched the lake, and found no further bodies. No missing persons reports either.”
“What about those who caused the carriage accident?”
“The magistrate will judge.”
Pejin answered and looked at April as if asking her to name a date.
As April tried mentally to arrange her schedule, she realized she had none and replied.
“Any time is fine.”
“Even so, choose the day you prefer. We Police will have many coming along, and you should bring anyone you’d like to come too.”
“What?”
“We’re renting that huge Amusement Park—we can’t just have the two of us playing there. What fun would it be, just you and me?”
“Why would I play with you?”
“You keep forgetting—I’m Surveilling you.”
“Then just Surveil me. Don’t play.”
“Waiting alone is even less fun than that.”
Pejin’s petulant complaint was so childlike that April found herself laughing aloud.
She continued.
“Who else would I bring besides the two people working here?”
“Our Police force should be enough then.”
“And here you are talking about ‘police force’ while coming along to play.”
“Don’t focus too much on the facts.”
Pejin spoke, then turned again and waved goodbye.
April watched his departing figure for a moment, then sat back down before the vanity.
She examined her face from every angle, as one does after a long time away. Whether it was because his words—that she was like the sun—had pleased her, or for some other reason, her face didn’t look quite so bad to her anymore.
* * *
Hanna bounded gleefully through the Capital City with Bauman, peering at everything around them.
Bauman smiled warmly.
“Don’t trip while you’re running.”
“I won’t trip!”
As Hanna ran about saying this, she paused briefly in front of her house, which lay on the path to the Factory.
When Bauman saw the surname “Coski” written on the nameplate, he asked.
“Will you go inside?”
“Later.”
Hanna answered brightly and tugged at Bauman’s arm to move on.
Because Bauman was a man who built houses, he habitually surveyed the Coski residence as they passed.
It was one of the uniform houses built near the Factory—less a house than a room with a kitchen attached.
The keyhole bore the scratches of daily attempts at entry in a drunken state, the steps leading down were broken and overgrown with moss from long neglect, and scratches crisscrossed the descent where an unsteady foot had slipped.
Every drunk step must have slipped the same way; the marks on the stairs testified to that. This was a house abandoned by its master.
This drunkard would never recover. If he were capable of reform, he would never have sent his young daughter to the Factory, lost his hand, accumulated debt, and simply left it all behind. This was not mere indifference—it was cruelty.
Bauman suppressed his anger and spoke to Hanna.
“Grandfather will teach you how to draw houses.”
“How to draw houses?”
“Yes. With that skill, you’ll never go hungry no matter where you go in your life.”
“Can you do it with one hand missing?”
“Of course. It may be a little harder than for someone with two hands, but you were born nimbler than most, so in the end it won’t make much difference.”
“Was I born that way?”
Hanna looked at the place where her lost hand had been.
The child grieved far too little over that missing hand. She had not wept, nor complained of injustice.
Bauman thought she believed all those emotions belonged to someone else, not to her.
He did not know what that lady of the great mansion thought when she looked at Hanna, but one thing was certain: she had taken in this child, who belonged to no status, who had sought to set fire to her own house. That was extraordinary.
Bauman continued.
“You and the lady were destined to meet like this.”
“And Grandfather too!”
“Indeed. A true word.”
Bauman answered with a glad expression.
When they arrived at the Factory, Bauman stood one step behind, watching as Hanna made her payment.
Though the Factory Master knew nothing of who Bauman was, the moment he appeared—an elderly man with a sturdy build nonetheless—the Factory Master wordlessly erased Hanna’s name from the debt ledger.
“Go. And don’t come back.”
“I won’t come back!”
Hanna shouted and whirled around, running to Bauman.
The Factory Master spat on the ground and spoke.
“Ill-fated girl.”
Having heard that phrase often since her injury, Hanna pretended not to hear and pulled Bauman along eagerly.
“Let’s hurry back. The lady is waiting.”
“Yes, let’s go at once.”
Bauman spoke and moved to leave, then looked back at the Factory Master.
He fixed his face and name in his memory. That was April’s command.
She had said she would certainly recover this debt.
“Including Hanna’s hand.”
April had said it in a quiet voice.

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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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