The Mansion Awaits Spring - Chapter 47

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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 47
After April laid bare the problem she’d been nursing alone since the party and left to turn on the lights, Bauman rose and made his own way through the house.
He entered Pejin’s room without knocking and spoke at once.
“It is unbecoming, sir, to eavesdrop on conversations, even for a policeman.”
Pejin, who had scrambled back to his bed and feigned reading, clicked his tongue in annoyance.
He set the book down and turned to Bauman.
“As for the funeral, you’ll be making a grand affair of it anyway, won’t you? Learning about it beforehand seems to pose no real problem.”
“Will you interfere?”
“Up to now, I’d say I’ve been rather cooperative.”
In a region where respect was shown to elders regardless of station, Pejin maintained a certain decorum even while his tone carried a sting.
Yet he made it equally clear he had no wish to be criticized for it.
Bauman exhaled slowly—a sigh that substituted for reproach—and Pejin continued.
“I won’t interfere. So long as it helps, that’s enough.”
“Is that so?”
“It will be.”
Bauman smiled, seeming more at ease. Then, with a hint of playfulness in his voice, he spoke again.
“That said—so you caught a cold while swimming, I hear?”
He, who moved with unhurried grace, spoke quickly before Pejin could answer.
“When I was young, sir, I couldn’t have imagined such a thing. I confess I’m astonished.”
“It’s from spending so long in the Empire. Too long in the Empire.”
“Those old Right Island pirates—they didn’t just stay here, did they? Years of drifting across the world’s seas was their trade.”
At a loss for words, Pejin lay back and made an exaggerated sound of complaint.
“Ah, it hurts terribly.”
Charmed by Pejin’s theatrics, Bauman chuckled softly and withdrew from the room.
Once he was gone, Pejin ceased his groaning and sat up again.
The funeral plan struck Pejin as quite sound. He understood what April intended—why she would step forward to hold a funeral for people who had died seven years ago.
The members of the Runos Family, fleeing the Grand Duke who had brought ruin to their house, had scattered one by one, abandoning their name and taking refuge in other families.
A funeral could gather these scattered souls in one place under a lawful and emotionally acceptable pretext.
The true purpose of the gathering was fundraising for the Main Family House. If the merchants among the family succeeded, April might gain the opportunity to float a Trading Ship.
But the odds of failure were appallingly high, and the blow would be severe.
If those who might have come to pay respects were unwilling to entangle themselves with the Runos Family and stayed away, April would be left with nothing but debt.
April could not possibly be viewing the situation optimistically. She likely assessed their chances of success more conservatively than Pejin did.
Yet her determination to undertake this venture anyway—that was quintessentially the Runos spirit.
The spirit of those ambitious ancestors who had chosen to float a Trading Ship while all others raised pirate vessels.
Pejin fell asleep again, his mind churning, and woke in the depths of night.
After a day spent abed sweating out the fever, the cold had loosened its grip noticeably. The mere fact that his appetite had returned was proof enough that he would live.
Pejin slipped quietly from his room, loath to disturb the household, and encountered April at the doorway—she too had woken in the small hours, on a sleep schedule much like his own.
April asked, surprise in her eyes.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Stay in your room. Pascal sent provisions yesterday, and staff for the kitchen.”
“I’m not waking anyone at this hour. And I need to move around a bit.”
“You still don’t look well.”
Pejin felt the cold had run its course, yet April kept saying he looked poorly. His brow furrowed without his meaning it to.
“I’m fine.”
“Not to my eye. You should rest.”
“I’m telling you, I’m all right.”
“Well enough to leave in the morning?”
At her question, Pejin hesitated.
He thought for a moment, then answered.
“Not quite that well yet.”
“But you said you were fine.”
“Just barely able to get up.”
“I see.”
April replied thus, then turned with a gesture for him to follow toward the pantry.
As Pejin watched April walk ahead down the corridor, the corners of his mouth rose slightly.
April spoke as she led the way.
“Pascal came to wake you earlier, but you said you’d sleep longer.”
“My body has other ideas.”
“What a waste of your build.”
April’s reproach was oddly bearable—even amusing. Of course she meant it: don’t rush to leave tomorrow. He found himself smiling.
The moment he entered the pantry, he made straight for the meat. Once he’d found good cuts, he drew a knife and began slicing them thin with swift, practiced motions.
April raised an eyebrow.
“Why so thin?”
“To cook as quickly as possible.”
“When you were younger, you wouldn’t eat meat at all—what a fuss you made.”
“Spend your youth at the Military Academy surrounded by growing boys. The very thought of fully cooking meat became a luxury.”
As he spoke, Pejin sliced the meat into a towering pile, then quickly cooked it in a pan with a few aromatic leaves, pouring the browned strips onto a plate at once. From the remaining oil, he made a sweet sauce and drizzled it over the meat.
He handed April a plate and asked.
“Want some?”
“Yes. It looks delicious.”
At any grand party, dinner would not be served until around ten in the evening. Though it was past eleven, the hour hardly felt prohibitive for eating.
April took a generous bite of sauce-coated meat, ate with evident pleasure, and then unexpectedly laughed—she had to cover her mouth with her hand.
Pejin asked.
“What?”
“It just struck me again—how does a person from Right Island catch a cold from the sea?”
“Ah, well. You’ve got endless ammunition for mockery now, haven’t you?”
“You seem rather absurd to me.”
“Speak as though you never found me amusing before.”
“I’ve simply confirmed my suspicions.”
Bickering in this mild way, the two of them finished the meat.
* * *
Madam Eve, watching them from just outside the pantry, turned to Bauman, who had scrambled awake at the sound of April moving about.
“Why hasn’t he brought the young lady a plate of her own? She can’t very well join in.”
“Young people these days seem to be like that…… I confess I don’t understand it either. It would have been unthinkable in our time.”
“And what of it—a young lord from the Grand Duke’s line caught a cold just from wading into the sea?”
“That’s the part I find most remarkable, madam.”
“Truly unbelievable. In our day, this cold would hardly have counted as cold at all.”
“Indeed. It was far harsher then.”
The two, having lived through similar times, began discussing their own youth in relation to April and Pejin, but gradually they lost themselves entirely in their own recollections.
Pejin, whose sharp hearing had been bothered by their footsteps in the corridor from the start, turned to April.
“If they want to nag, why don’t they just come and do it? What’s with this atmosphere they’re radiating from out there?”
“I don’t want to hear scolding.”
“Ah, so they’re doing well then.”
April burst out laughing at Pejin’s immediate acceptance.
Both the pair outside and the pair within the kitchen had been discussing a shared era of memory until the early dawn.
Aware that Pejin’s hearing, honed by his profession, had made him sensitive to being listened to, April deliberately set her fork down with a clatter and spoke.
“You’re looking pale. You should rest.”
Pejin, about to ask how she could see his complexion in such dim light, caught himself just in time and understood her intent.
“I don’t feel well. Let’s go rest.”
He made a show of bustling about tidying up with deliberate noise.
As April suppressed her laughter at Pejin’s shameless performance—complete with his shoes clomping loudly on the floor—she heard a hasty retreat from outside. They had noticed movement toward the door.
Pejin turned his ear toward the doorway and spoke.
“They’re gone.”
“You could hear that?”
“What I excelled at most in the Military Academy…… well, nearly every subject, to be honest.”
Pejin spoke with utter composure and shrugged, prompting April to tap him on the shoulder.
Pejin feigned a broken arm.
“I’m serious, though. What do you want me to do about it?”
“Be humble. It’s a virtue.”
“In any case. I have Acute Hearing, and I’m a good shot too.”
“I’m not interested.”
“I’m just thinking aloud. Pay me no mind.”
They spoke without warmth, yet oddly, hunger lingered, and they rose to search for more food in turn.
What they retrieved next was a Chocolate Cake topped with cherries.
Neighboring kingdoms mocked Right Island’s food culture, claiming it consisted of potato, potato, potato, and a few other things—its cuisine had not advanced significantly. Left Island, by contrast, had developed an ornate food culture.
Chocolate Cake was a dessert made in the Imperial style.
Already cut into eight pieces, the two took out only one slice to share. But Pejin, having eaten little during his illness, sought to fill his stomach, and April, fond of the cake, withdrew a second slice.
By the second helping, however, they were eating more slowly.
As they ate the cake and continued their conversation, the candle they had brought burned down entirely, and the flame went out.
Only when darkness fell over the pantry did the two of them realize how much time had passed.

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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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