ANR Ch 5

It took a full half-day by carriage to reach the destination. About an hour after departure, the surrounding scenery shifted to a rural path. Yves pulled out a book and began to read, while Claude silently gazed out the window.

Winter was giving way to spring. The pastures, where small sprouts were beginning to emerge, were gradually turning green. The carriage rattled along a bumpy dirt road. Small stones kicked up by the wheels bounced and tapped against the underside of the vehicle.

Claude was mentally organizing the tasks he needed to do upon arrival. First, he would rest at the inn and then locate the lumberyard. If the couple, Simon and his wife, were there, he planned to tail them.

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If he could gather solid evidence, arresting them on the spot would be justified. He felt fortunate that the captain, who had the authority to make immediate decisions, was accompanying him. But then again, why had the captain followed him all the way here?

Claude’s gaze shifted to Yves, who was sitting across from him. It was impressive how Yves managed to read in the jolting carriage. He looked as carefree as someone on a picnic, showing no signs of worry about what lay ahead.

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The captain wasn’t an open book. Claude couldn’t tell how much he could trust him. Was he here to keep an eye on him? Or was he genuinely here to help?

For someone who claimed to want to catch the culprit, the captain had been surprisingly passive so far. Yet, it didn’t seem like he was trying to obstruct Claude either.

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Even if Claude asked, he doubted the captain would reveal his true motives.

In that case, the only option was to find the real culprit as quickly as possible. Just then, Yves, without looking up from his book, spoke.

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“Am I that interesting? Watching me like that.”

He seemed to have noticed Claude staring at him for a while.

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“Or are you protesting because you’re bored? I can’t stand sulking.”

His tone was almost like he was soothing a woman he was courting. Every time Yves teased him like this, Claude felt uncomfortable. Serving a superior who shared a bed with men was a first for him, and it kept leading to strange misunderstandings.

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“Not at all. Please continue reading.”

But Yves closed the book and looked up, as if to say he was ready to indulge Claude in conversation.

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“People who say ‘not at all’ are never really fine. Alright, let’s hear your story. Last time, I told you about my family, so it’s only fair you share yours now.”

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Claude licked his dry lips. He hadn’t asked, but the captain’s family story had been quite interesting. Could his own life measure up? Claude prepared to dredge up his uneventful past.

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“What would you like to know?”

Claude’s dark brown eyes turned to him. Yves asked about his mother.

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“She passed away four years ago. She was shot during a street protest and suffered from complications for years. Her condition didn’t improve, so she underwent surgery, but it went terribly wrong. She never woke up.”

It was a short, sad story.

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“My father also joined the protests and was killed by a cannon. It’s a bit awkward to tell you this, but it happened ten years ago when Napoleon returned to Paris.”

“So he was a Bonapartist?”

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“No, he just hated the king and the nobility.”

Claude’s parents weren’t ideologues. They simply had clear targets for their hatred. Yves gave a bitter smile at this.

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“And yet, their son is employed by the king and loyal to the nobility.”

“They say hunger is scarier than hatred. My sister was very ill, and someone had to earn money.”

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“The lady you mentioned before? Does she have a chronic illness?”

“Yes, she’s been frail since childhood.”

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There was nothing to hide or lie about. Claude’s parents despised the Ancien Régime, and his sister Catherine had been divorced by a low-ranking, fallen nobleman. But Claude didn’t blindly reject the nobility just because of his family’s experiences. He hadn’t inherited his father’s hatred.

He felt neither resentment nor envy toward them. He simply believed everyone had their roles. All Claude wanted was a promotion. He knew his status was a barrier, but he didn’t think it was worth taking up a torch and protesting.

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A life of compliance. That was the best way to describe Claude’s current existence.

The two continued to talk. Claude answered Yves’ questions calmly, and Yves listened without judgment. They even discussed how living around sick people made it hard to ignore the frail. Without their uniforms, their conversation felt more equal than usual.

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After a couple more hours, the carriage stopped at a village along the way. While the driver fed and rested the horses, the two took a walk together. Their conversation revolved around incidents in the guard unit before Yves’ arrival and stories about the soldiers.

Yves listened more seriously than Claude expected, even starting to memorize some of the soldiers’ names. When the topic of Easter bonuses came up, Yves readily agreed to provide them. This made Claude’s doubts and trust in Yves sway once again.

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The carriage set off again and traveled for another three hours. At some point, Yves fell asleep, and Claude stayed awake out of a sense of duty. It felt no different from standing watch. If his superior was resting, it was only natural to remain alert.

So, he thought there was nothing strange about continuously gazing at Yves’ sleeping face.

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They arrived in Brunew after 3 p.m. It was too small to be called a city—more like a village with a few military facilities centered around a square.

After getting off the carriage, the two entered an inn. They rented a nice room with a fireplace and a sitting area, as well as a cheap single room. The first floor smelled damp from the laundry hung by long-term guests.

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A middle-aged man smoking a pipe glanced at them. The innkeeper was knitting behind the counter, and a few guests were having a late lunch.

Claude went up to his room, shoved his suitcase under the bed, and opened the window. The half-open window let in a breeze that carried the scent of nearby woods.

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The room had only a small wardrobe, a bed, and a table. The candles on the holder had all melted. He’d have to request replacements before nightfall. Thankfully, the bedsheets were clean, and there were no signs of mice yet.

Claude went downstairs for a meal. Yves had already come down and taken a seat. Claude asked the passing innkeeper for two servings of lunch and sat across from Yves.

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“How’s the room? Not too uncomfortable, I hope?”

“It’s bearable.”

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“I guess you don’t regret coming along yet.”

“No, not yet.”

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They acted like ordinary travelers. Claude leaned back in his chair casually, while Yves rested his chin on his hand, waiting for the food. Soon, the innkeeper brought bread and butter.

Claude asked the expressionless innkeeper, “What’s this village known for?”

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“Wheat, roosters, and stupidity.”

The innkeeper answered curtly and went to fetch the rest of the meal. Shortly after, hastily warmed soup and dried fruit were served.

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“Are there jobs around here? There seem to be a lot of solo guests.”

Claude looked around and spoke to the innkeeper again. Now that he noticed, there were hardly any groups in the inn. The faces of the guests entering one by one were marked by the fatigue of labor.

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“There’s a big lumberyard nearby. People work there for a month or two and stay here before moving on.”

Despite his gruff demeanor, the innkeeper answered Claude’s questions readily.

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Yves watched Claude with interest as he chewed on his bread.

Everyone was friendly toward Claude. No, it was more like they were initially wary but soon let their guard down and answered his questions without hesitation. When the innkeeper finally mentioned the name “Simon,” Yves couldn’t help but feel impressed.

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“So, where can I find Mr. Simon? I’m running low on travel funds, so it’d be great if I could work for a bit.”

“There’s an office next to the church. Go there. Oh, and make sure to mention that I sent you.”

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“Will do.”

The innkeeper looked pleased as he returned to the counter. It seemed there was some kind of referral fee involved. The two continued their meal in silence.

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“Since it’s a family-run business, there’s a good chance they’ll show up there. Do you think you’ll recognize their faces?”

“Hmm, probably. But how should I approach them? Arresting them outright might complicate things for me.”

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Yves stirred the lukewarm soup with his spoon. Claude noticed he wasn’t eating, just nibbling on the bread beside him. Was he regretting coming along now? Claude deliberately ignored it and continued speaking.

“I’m actually thinking of tailing them. We need to find out where they’re staying and gather evidence. Things like letters confirming the hit job.”

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“How can you be sure it was a hit job?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just moving in the direction with the highest probability.”

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Claude answered while subtly glancing toward the entrance. More guests were returning from work. Not all of them were staying at the inn; some had come in for an early dinner.

“Looks like the lumberyard work is done for the day. Well, once the sun starts to set, they can’t work anymore. Let’s head to the office early tomorrow morning. You must be tired, so it’s best to rest for now.”

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At this, Yves suddenly burst into laughter. The sound was so refreshing that Claude gave him a puzzled look.

“Ah, this is really amusing. It seems you have a natural talent for leading people, Lieutenant. Even that gruff innkeeper answered all your questions. I find myself wanting to follow your lead too. As per your command, I’ll rest today and move tomorrow morning.”

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Even though they were out of uniform and on personal business, Yves was still Claude’s superior. Claude belatedly realized he had been giving Yves instructions.

“I overstepped. My apologies.”

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“Not at all, I’m quite enjoying it. I followed you here because you didn’t seem entirely reliable, but this is getting more and more interesting. I’m having so much fun that I almost feel guilty toward Joseph.”

When Yves mentioned Joseph de Ferrand’s name, Claude nodded. Right, that was it. Yves had a special relationship with the late viscount. That must have been part of the reason he had followed Claude here.

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They were a pair who fulfilled each other’s needs, weren’t they? Claude couldn’t help but wonder what Yves had needed from Joseph. A small spark of curiosity began to grow.

“Let’s head up.”

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The two went to their respective rooms. After some personal time, they quietly went to bed. The first day in Brunew had come to an end.

—

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The next morning, Claude went out for a walk. To be precise, he was waiting for Yves. They had agreed to meet before morning prayers, but Yves hadn’t shown up yet. Claude considered knocking on his door but thought it might be rude and decided against it.

Claude walked alone, turning the corner near the mill and exiting the square. He saw a small farm and fields. There, scrawny chickens pecked at feed, making the stupid noises the innkeeper had mentioned. After completing a loop, Claude finally saw Yves emerging from the inn entrance.

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Yves approached Claude, looking as impeccably groomed as he had when they left Paris.

“You woke up late. Was the bed uncomfortable?”

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“Not exactly. I’ve always had a hard time with mornings. I really hate waking up.”

Claude thought that habit suited him oddly well. The servants who attended to him must have a tough time every morning. He could almost picture Yves’ messy hair and the glare he’d give while half-asleep. He might even throw a pillow.

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“Why are you laughing?”

Yves looked at Claude with a puzzled expression.

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“Ahem. Nothing. Let’s go.”

Claude composed his expression and started walking first. In the distance, the church spire was visible. It would take about 30 minutes to reach it.

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“By the way, shouldn’t we let Michel know how hard you’re working for him?”

“No, it’s better if he doesn’t know. The greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment. We don’t have much time to find anything before the trial, so I’m worried.”

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“I can delay the trial if needed. If we don’t find anything here, we’ll go back to Paris and visit him together.”

The cobblestone road ended, and they entered a dusty path. Women in caracos passed by, carrying baskets. Claude pondered Yves’ words. Why? Why was he so eager to get involved?

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“I told you, the position of a Paris Guard officer is quite boring. Besides, watching a lieutenant who wants to uphold justice is quite entertaining.”

His answer hadn’t changed.

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“I didn’t know ‘entertainment’ could be such a strong motivator.”

“It’s the privilege of the well-fed. Didn’t you know? When people get too bored, they even start killing.”

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Yves walked ahead with a teasing expression, and Claude followed slowly behind.

Just before reaching the church, they encountered a beggar. When the beggar asked for alms in the name of Christ, Claude handed him a coin. Was the beggar’s blessing for grace about to come true? Yves muttered as he looked straight ahead.

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“We’re quite lucky.”

His gaze was fixed on the lumber office next to the church. Someone was just stepping out—a red-haired man and a woman with a shawl draped over her shoulders. They whispered to each other, glanced around, and then started walking in Claude and Yves’ direction. They seemed to be heading toward the square.

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“Is that them?”

Claude asked without mentioning names. Yves nodded. They had found the Simon couple surprisingly easily.

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The two slowed their pace. At one point, they brushed past the Simon couple. Yves made eye contact with Claude, signaling that he had confirmed their faces, and the two quietly turned in the direction the couple had gone. They followed at a safe distance.

In the open countryside, it was impossible to hide while tailing someone. To blend in as ordinary passersby, the two engaged in conversation. Having already shared several private conversations, it was easy to act like they were well-acquainted.

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The Simon couple, however, remained silent. They walked without speaking, looking straight ahead. Their pace wasn’t fast, so Claude and Yves had to adjust their speed accordingly.

At one point, the Simon couple split up at a fork in the road. The man headed into the woods, while the woman stayed on the main road leading to the square. It seemed they had realized they were being followed.

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There was no choice now. Yves immediately headed into the woods, signaling for Claude to follow the woman. The two separated, each pursuing their target.

As Claude trailed the woman through the alleys, he felt a pang of regret.

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Would it have been faster to just run up and confront her, asking for an explanation? What was happening to Yves in the woods?

He regretted not being the one to chase the man. Meanwhile, the woman entered a distillery shop.

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Following her inside, Claude realized she was already seated at a table, waiting for him. It seemed she had given up on running, knowing there was no way to shake him off. Claude quietly approached and spoke.

“May I sit?”

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The woman nodded, clutching her shawl.

Claude sat across from her and ordered a drink. Two glasses of watered-down brandy arrived. She took a sip first, then asked in a trembling voice.

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“Why are you following me? What do you know? Are you from Paris?”

The questions came one after another.

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“I can’t answer the first two questions, but to the third, I’d say yes. If you have anything to tell me, it might speed things up.”

“Are you with the police?”

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“No.”

At his answer, Madame Simon seemed to relax a little. She took another sip of brandy and let out a deep sigh. Meanwhile, Claude began to craft a plausible story.

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“I’m a journalist from Minerve. You know how the late Viscount Ferrand was the real-life inspiration for The Wasp of Desire, right? There’s a lot of public interest, so I’m investigating his case. I’m not on good terms with the police, so you can rest assured.”

He mixed truth with lies. Aside from his profession, everything he said was true, so he didn’t need to think too hard.

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“The Paris police arrested a young servant from the Ferrand household as the prime suspect in the viscount’s murder. He’s from a fishing village called Saint-Jean-de-Mont. He claims no one believes in his innocence and asked me for help. That’s why I’m here investigating.”

Claude deliberately referred to Michel as a “boy” to evoke sympathy. Madame Simon nodded. She seemed to have read about it in the papers. She hadn’t realized he was so young. Her face twisted with guilt and sorrow as she clutched her glass. She kept opening and closing her mouth, as if trying to say something but stopping herself.

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Perhaps she wanted to confess the sins her husband had committed. With a little more encouragement, it might work. Claude drank the brandy in front of him to create a sense of camaraderie. Finally, the woman spoke with difficulty.

“That boy isn’t the culprit.”

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“I see. Do you know something?”

Claude maintained a calm demeanor. The woman bit her nails, looking troubled, then shook her head.

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“No, no. I can’t tell you. Sigh… But how old is the boy? That’s so sad. Can he meet with his mother?”

“His mother was hit by a carriage and passed away. I heard they received 50 francs in compensation.”

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“That’s ridiculous! 50 francs is way too little!”

Madame Simon unconsciously frowned and raised her voice.

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“He came to Paris alone because there was no one to take care of him. He drifted from place to place, working odd jobs, but he was never paid properly.”

“I know. What can kids like him do besides working in factories and getting covered in waste? Even after working all day, they barely earn 50 sous. Damn it…”

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She spoke angrily, venting things Claude hadn’t even asked about.

“You know what? My husband got 300 francs for *that job*. But he didn’t give me a single sou! That wretched man. But I can’t report him to the police. If he finds out I betrayed him, he’ll kill me. I’m only telling you this because you said you’re not with the police. I hate him, but I can’t turn him in. I don’t know what to do. If only I knew where he hid the money…”

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Her voice grew agitated as she emptied her brandy glass and wiped her hands on her skirt. Claude leaned in slightly and spoke quietly.

“Did you see the other gentleman who was with me on the road earlier?”

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“Yes, I did. Is he with the police?”

“No, but he can do more than the police. If you promise to testify, he can have your husband arrested immediately. He’ll also ensure you’re protected from any harm.”

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At the mention of safety, Madame Simon’s expression wavered. She bit her nails again, her lips still wet from the brandy.

After a moment, she seemed to gather her thoughts and spoke.

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“But what about Coupeau? It was Coupeau who stabbed the viscount in the neck, not my husband. I don’t want my husband to be executed, no matter what.”

“I see. So Coupeau was an accomplice.”

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At Claude’s calm tone, the woman gasped and retorted in a startled voice.

“Good heavens! Didn’t Coupeau tell you that? Wait, how did you know my husband was involved? How did you track us down here? Oh my God, what have I been blabbering about? Ah, I should go now. If you try anything funny, I’ll scream.”

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As she hurriedly tried to get up, Claude grabbed her arm.

“Madame, you need to think wisely. Your husband’s arrest is only a matter of time. If they find out you knew and hid it, you’ll be charged as an accomplice. There are witnesses who saw you washing and selling the viscount’s bloodstained clothes.”

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“That’s… that’s just too much! I told you, I didn’t touch a single sou of that money. So I had to sell the clothes. But will I really be arrested too?”

“Let’s sit down and talk.”

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She sat back down, her face still filled with unease.

“Here’s what we’ll do. Swear to testify at the trial. The gentleman I serve will help you. You’ll only need to testify, and you can keep the remaining money.”

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At Claude’s calm voice, she buried her face in her hands. Soon, she was lost in thought. If things could work out that way, it would be more than ideal.

They had fled Paris in such a hurry that they hadn’t even packed properly. Her husband’s family treated her like a fool. They think they can push me around just because I’m quiet…

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Above all, the possibility of keeping the remaining money for herself was too tempting to resist. After a long hesitation, she finally agreed.

“Alright. I’ll secretly lure him out. Let’s meet again tonight at 10 in the alley behind this distillery. But you have to promise me you won’t have him hanged. He’s a heartless man, but I don’t want him to die.”

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“Agreed.”

“Ah, and he’s skilled with a knife. You’ll need to be careful.”

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Claude nodded. If it came to that, he had his own skills. After the brief negotiation, the woman hurriedly left the distillery.

After parting ways with her, Claude returned to the inn. Yves had already returned and had made himself at home in Claude’s room. Seeing Claude return late, he boasted about his own achievements.

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“You did well to find out where they’re staying.”

Claude smiled as he took off his coat.

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“The way you talk, Lieutenant, it’s like you’re coaxing a child. It feels good to be praised, but why does it sound so condescending?”

“That’s not it.”

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Claude slowly approached him and recounted everything Madame Simon had told him. Yves was surprised by the unexpected turn of events. He even doubted how Claude had managed to charm the woman into revealing so much.

“We don’t know yet if she’ll really show up at the meeting place. She might have been acting surprised just to throw me off.”

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“Well, even so, we have nothing to lose.”

Yves leaned back on the bed, propping his mud-stained legs on a chair. As Claude took off his coat, he suddenly remembered something and turned to Yves.

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“Ah, she said he’s skilled with a knife.”

“And?”

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“Just thought you should know.”

Yves’ indifferent reaction was expected. For someone whose job involved shooting and stabbing people, a knife was hardly a concern. He stretched lazily, clearly bored.

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Even after Claude had finished changing, Yves showed no intention of leaving for his own room. Instead, he interlaced his fingers and rested them on his stomach, looking up at his subordinate as if daring him to complain about occupying the space.

“It gets a bit chilly at night, probably because it’s the end room. There must be a draft.”

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Claude answered indirectly. He had woken up once in the early morning to check if the window was open. Now, in the early evening, the cool air was still pleasant.

“It smells like the countryside. Feels like we’re on a trip or something.”

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“Do you travel often?”

“Travel? Hardly. I’ve been dragged all over the battlefield, so I’ve rarely had time for personal vacations. This is the first time I’ve gone out to the countryside with someone.”

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“I’m honored.”

“You should be.”

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Yves’ lack of humility was on full display. Claude chuckled silently and leaned against the windowsill. With the bed and chair both occupied by Yves, there was no proper place to sit. Yet, strangely, he didn’t feel annoyed.

Perhaps, as Yves had said, it really did feel like they were on a trip. Claude had taken his sister on outings to the outskirts of Paris, but this was his first time staying at an inn in a foreign place with someone else.

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“But isn’t it more enjoyable and fun than I thought?”

Exploring unfamiliar places and trying unfamiliar foods were fresh experiences. Even just sitting around in a room like this, chatting idly, brought a smile to his face.

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It was a strange phenomenon. Especially considering that the other person was his superior. And here they were, chasing a murder case. It felt like an inappropriate sense of joy had filled him without him realizing it.

“What are you imagining that’s making your expression shift like that?”

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Yves was leaning against the bed, looking at Claude. Around him were cracked walls and an old lacquered wardrobe. He looked out of place in that setting, as if he had been plucked from somewhere else entirely, and now he was making a face that seemed to demand Claude share whatever was amusing him.

“Hmm, it seems I’m a bit too excited for someone investigating a murder case.”

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“Who, me?”

Yves pointed at himself with a crooked smile, his lips twisting.

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“No, me. I think I need to be more tense.”

“No need to overdo it. Even if he’s skilled with a knife, he can’t dodge bullets. If it comes to it, I’ll shoot him in the head, so don’t worry.”

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Yves seemed to think Claude was worried about the culprit’s combat skills, so he boasted about his own abilities. But that wasn’t what Claude meant. He was just thinking that, even though he was here with his superior, he might be getting too comfortable.

Yves’ casual demeanor was partly to blame. They ate together without hesitation, chatted like friends, and even shared personal stories. Claude had learned that Yves disliked meat, enjoyed baths, and slept a lot. He had first held a sword at the age of seven and was confident in long-range shooting.

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Of course, that didn’t mean Yves had revealed everything. He was tight-lipped about the year he spent in seclusion after the Spanish War. He also didn’t explain why he had returned to Paris or why he had chosen the Guard. Such questions were usually met with a scolding for being too nosy. But Claude wasn’t intimidated, so the two got along well.

When it was completely dark outside, someone knocked on the door.

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“Ah, here you are. The dinner you ordered is ready.”

“Already? I’ll be right down.”

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Yves got up from the bed as if he had been waiting. Then, looking at Claude, who had half-risen to greet the visitor, he said, “The food here doesn’t quite suit my taste, so I ordered ahead.”

“Ah, I see.”

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Claude agreed but hesitated to follow. He wasn’t sure if there would be enough food for him. Yves noticed and clicked his fingers.

“Come on. I ordered for two.”

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Claude lightly rubbed his nose and followed him out of the room.

The innkeeper’s expression was brighter than ever. The gruff face he had shown the day before was gone. He seemed to think he had struck gold with these guests, adding extra charges to the custom meal order. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to know that Yves was a noble with enough wealth to not care even if he were overcharged ten times over.

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After dinner, the two headed to the alley where the distillery was located. There were few streetlights, so the area was dark.

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“By the way, I’m quite disappointed that you sold my honor so casually. Now I have no choice but to protect Madame Simon.”

“If you had been there, you would have allowed it.”

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“You talk as if you know me well, but you might end up in big trouble.”

“Is that so?”

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Claude laughed it off.

Soon, they saw the sign of the distillery they had visited earlier. And in the alley next to it, a shadow appeared. Disappointingly, it was only one person.

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Had the persuasion failed?

Claude entered the alley first. Madame Simon was sitting on the ground, seemingly drunk. Her posture looked a bit awkward. As Claude approached to check, he caught the metallic scent of blood.

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She was dead.

Her throat had been slit, just like Viscount Ferrand. Her face was already pale, indicating she had been dead for at least a few hours.

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Claude couldn’t hide his confusion. The case was taking an unexpected turn. Someone he had contacted in the morning was now dead by nightfall. It seemed this case might not be as simple as he had thought.

He bent down to examine the body more closely. Madame Simon’s face, frozen in death, was filled with fear.

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As Claude frowned, something caught his eye. A white cloth had fallen beside the body. Picking it up, Claude felt a strange sense of familiarity. When he remembered where he had seen it before, his expression darkened.

Why is this here…?

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He felt even more bewildered than when he had first discovered the body.

Meanwhile, Yves, who had entered the alley late, also frowned at the sight of Madame Simon’s corpse.

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“Unfortunately, it seems Madame failed to persuade her husband.”

“…You don’t seem surprised.”

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Claude spoke without turning his head. His voice was heavy.

“Of course not. I’m just quick to accept reality, so people often misunderstand me. We should leave before the police arrive.”

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“Why? Is it inconvenient for you to face the police?”

“Obviously. It’s a hassle to explain everything.”

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“A hassle, huh? Like this, for example?”

In his hand was a handkerchief. The edges were stained with blood, and a beautifully embroidered lion emblem was clearly visible. There was no doubt about its owner. Yves’ eyes wavered as he saw the handkerchief. Claude’s face also hardened as he watched.

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“This is confusing.”

Claude swallowed the intense disappointment rising in his throat and asked, “Can you explain why this is here? Unless you’re saying you killed her…”

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“Do you think I killed her? Just because you found a handkerchief, you’re jumping to conclusions?”

Yves cut him off, sounding incredulous. He looked back and forth between the dead Madame Simon and Claude, emphasizing again, “I don’t know anything about this.”

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“Then explain why this is here. Unless you dropped it by accident.”

“I said I don’t know. How can I explain something I don’t know? If you don’t trust me, why don’t you go tell the police you saw me here?”

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Yves’ voice was sharp, clearly annoyed at being doubted again.

Claude rubbed his forehead, trying to sort through his confusion. It didn’t seem like Yves was lying. Even if he had killed Madame Simon, he wasn’t the type to carelessly drop a handkerchief as evidence. That led Claude to consider another possibility.

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“If you didn’t drop it, then they must have done it on purpose.”

“On purpose?”

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“Yes. They might have left it here to frame you or to send a warning. Either way, one thing is clear.”

Claude carefully placed the handkerchief into a leather pouch he carried, treating it as evidence.

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“They know about your involvement.”

Now Claude turned his back to the corpse and faced Yves. He no longer cared about the dead. He was solely focused on figuring out how deeply his superior was involved in this case.

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It was suspicious how easily Yves had agreed to help. The fact that he had followed Claude here, as if to keep an eye on him, suggested he was hiding something.

“Actually, when I think about it now, Viscount Ferrand’s death is a bit strange. There’s no clear motive. They didn’t steal any valuables, so it’s clear someone hired them to kill him. The bloodstains on Michel’s bedsheet were also deliberate. It all seems planned.”

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“You’ve been reading too many detective novels. That’s a terrible deduction.”

“Is that so? Then what do you think, Captain? If it wasn’t you, do you have any guesses?”

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“Now’s not the time for this. Let’s get out of here before we see something worse.”

“Do you know who the culprit is?”

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At Claude’s repeated questioning, Yves frowned and replied, “Are you interrogating me now? That’s unpleasant. Even if I did know, why should I tell you?”

Claude felt as if a large stone had lodged itself in his throat.

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Did he need a reason? Yves was chasing this case with him. Even though their relationship was clearly hierarchical, Claude had thought they respected each other. Now it seemed he had been deluding himself.

“Of course, you have no reason to tell someone like me. And I have no obligation to continue trusting you either.”

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Claude’s tone was stiff, revealing his feelings. He couldn’t hide that he was hurt. He had mistakenly thought he had earned Yves’ trust. The disappointment was weighing heavily on him.

The last streetlight burned out, plunging the alley into deeper darkness. In the narrow alley, with a corpse and two men standing in silence, the tension was palpable. Yves, seemingly frustrated, was the first to break the silence.

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“Let’s go back to the inn and talk.”

But Claude didn’t comply.

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“No, don’t try to brush it off with some nonsense again. If you have something to say, I want to hear it here and now.”

“You’re being unnecessarily stubborn. Don’t you realize we could both be framed if we stay here?”

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“Why are you so scared? You could easily get out of this by just revealing your status. Are you worried about me? I don’t believe that anymore.”

Yves’ expression grew cold at Claude’s determined words.

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“I can’t tolerate your insubordination anymore. Do as you please.”

Yves walked out of the alley alone. Claude immediately followed.

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“You said you’d help me from the start, but you must have had your own reasons, right? That’s why you followed me here, isn’t it?”

Claude caught up to Yves with long strides, continuing to press him.

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“You wanted to see how the case unfolded with your own eyes, didn’t you? This isn’t a simple case where a few people dying would be surprising. And they know about your involvement too. Just how deep are you in this?”

Still, Yves didn’t respond, simply walking on.

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“You’re hiding something from me. How long are you going to pretend you don’t know?”

Feeling frustrated, Claude quickened his pace, overtaking Yves and grabbing his arm to stop him.

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“Captain, please listen to me…!”

In an instant, a cold blade touched Claude’s neck. Yves had drawn the sword from his waist and pointed it at him.

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“How dare you lay a hand on me?”

“…….”

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“Sergeant Veil. Know that there’s a limit to how much I’ll tolerate your insolence.”

His voice had gone cold. If Claude took one more step forward, Yves was ready to slit his throat without hesitation. No one would make a fuss if another corpse were added here. This was a rural village far from Paris. News of Claude Veil’s death would take at least a week to spread.

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So, the logical choice was to back down. If the captain were truly the culprit, Claude would have been beheaded long ago. After all, he had been cooperating with the investigation, and it was wrong to continue casting suspicion on him. All Claude had to do was apologize and ask for forgiveness. They weren’t strangers; if their relationship soured over this, the one at a disadvantage would be Claude.

And yet, the words wouldn’t come out easily. A sharp pain prickled at the right side of his neck. His body sensed the danger instinctively, making his heart pound faster. But he couldn’t retreat. If he gave up now, he would never be able to face Yves again. Claude clenched his jaw.

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He was sure Yves was hiding something. Some things had been outright lies, while others were facts he had deliberately ignored. How ridiculous must Claude have looked, running around trying to solve the case in front of someone who already knew the truth? The realization infuriated him and wounded his pride.

What use was pride against a noble? But once desire was set in motion, it wouldn’t stop. That desire was curiosity. He wanted to know everything, even the most trivial details that would be of no help to him.

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They say fools risk their lives over pointless matters, and now, he was the perfect example. He was about to put his life on the line simply because he couldn’t suppress his petty curiosity. And yet, he couldn’t help it. Claude was desperate to know the truth about Yves.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least tell me the truth first. That way, I won’t die in vain.”

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Claude lifted his chin, fully exposing his neck.

“You must have lost your mind. Step back.”

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Yves gripped his sword tighter.

“I won’t move until you tell me the truth. If you must cut me down, so be it. How much do you know about the viscount’s death?”

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Each time Claude flinched, the sharpened blade dug into his skin.

“Your story about witnessing the viscount’s body being moved is full of holes. Or… are you directly involved in this case? If that’s the case, why did you try to help me? There are too many inconsistencies.”

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“I told you to step back.”

“Why is it that your words and actions never match, Captain?”

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Their gazes locked in a tense standoff, glinting under the moonlight. Yves’ face, usually devoid of emotion, was now cast in deep shadows.

“And why do you insist on knowing so much, Lieutenant? If you had any sense, you’d realize there’s a time to stop digging when given a convenient answer.”

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“You’re right. I wonder that myself….”

Claude let out a dry, self-mocking laugh.

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“I just can’t stop being curious about you.”

What a foolish thing to say. Claude cursed himself. Humans were such frustrating creatures. Beyond eating, sleeping, and surviving, they had so many insatiable desires. Even with ten lives, it wouldn’t be enough.

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But he had no other explanation. If not curiosity, then what was this burning frustration inside him? Like a philosopher starving for knowledge, he felt as if he would die if he didn’t solve this mystery today.

“You’re more stubborn than I thought.”

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Yves frowned, then finally withdrew his sword.

Claude exhaled the breath he had been holding. No matter how reckless he was, stepping to the brink of death wasn’t an experience one could brush off. He instinctively rubbed his neck, cold sweat trickling down his back. The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed as Yves sheathed his sword.

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“Joseph was a member of ‘Le Père.’ It’s an ultra-royalist faction that advocates for theocratic rule. For years, they’ve secretly assassinated revolutionaries. Naturally, the ‘Carbonari’ wanted them gone.”

Claude’s mind raced at Yves’ sudden explanation.

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“Le Père… I’ve heard of them. And the Carbonari—are you referring to the underground anti-government organization?”

“Exactly. They started as a militant group in Italy before spreading to Paris, where they now back the leftist side of Parliament. These two factions have been carrying out attacks like it’s a competition. Joseph was deeply involved with Le Père and took pleasure in orchestrating these assassinations.”

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The case had taken a turn Claude never expected. He had assumed it was nothing more than a crime of passion. But now, powerful political groups were involved.

“You remember I said I returned that night to retrieve something I forgot? The truth is, I witnessed the scene. I know of a secret passage leading to the mansion. That’s why there were no bloodstains anywhere except on Michel’s bedsheets. Joseph was killed in an underground chamber connected to that passage. When I arrived, the culprits were already cleaning up his body.”

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“The culprits knew about the secret passage?”

“Joseph must have told them himself. He ordered so many assassinations that he was likely acquainted with them.”

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“I don’t understand. If they knew each other, then why…?”

“He was betrayed by his own men. The Carbonari must have caught wind of his activities and offered the assassins a higher price. Joseph, thinking they were still his loyal subordinates, let his guard down.”

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Yves was revealing things Claude had never imagined. He had indeed lied and concealed the truth. But questions still remained.

“If you knew all this, why did you do nothing?”

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At Claude’s question, Yves scoffed.

“And what should I have done? Do you think I should have intervened? Why would I?”

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“That’s cold. Weren’t you and the viscount close?”

“I told you, he was just a bed partner.”

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Claude suddenly pitied the dead man. If Joseph had known that was all he meant to Yves, he would have been heartbroken.

“An innocent man ended up in prison because of this.”

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Claude referred to Michel taking the blame.

“That was unexpected. The culprits probably left those half-hearted bloodstains knowing the Paris police would jump to conclusions about Joseph’s… preferences. It was a convenient way to frame Michel. Frankly, I had no reason to get involved. But then, a certain ‘knight of justice’ started making things difficult for me.”

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At Yves’ pointed remark, Claude let out a wry chuckle. Yves continued, arms crossed.

“At first, I just found you troublesome. But then, I thought, if you actually managed to uncover the culprit, that wouldn’t be so bad. Michel is a pitiable fool. If you were willing to dig into the case on my behalf, I figured I’d help where I could.”

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“So you used me to act in your place?”

Yves tilted his head slightly, conceding the point.

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“I understand now. But what about the handkerchief found near Madame Simon’s body?”

“That, I truly don’t know. I suspect someone searched my room…”

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Yves trailed off, glancing toward the alley where the body had been found.

“So, they know your identity.”

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“That seems likely. I never expected them to be so bold.”

Claude recalled the brief flicker of unease in Yves’ eyes when he saw the handkerchief. How much should he believe? Or rather, how much did he want to believe? The night air in Bruny weighed heavily on his shoulders.

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“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Claude sighed.

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“You’re an esteemed noble. You know things I never could. But if I accept your knowledge of Le Père, how do you know so much about the Carbonari? Your story is too smooth—it sounds like an insider’s account.”

Yves smirked knowingly.

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“Of course it does. You’re not as clueless as I thought. But that’s as much as I’ll say.”

He adjusted his posture, scanning their surroundings. No one else was nearby, but they couldn’t linger. Turning back to Claude, he softened his tone.

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“Veil. I’m a man with far more complications than you realize. There are things I simply cannot tell you. Can’t you let it go?”

For once, Yves chose persuasion over threats. And it worked.

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Claude sighed and nodded.