Anyway, having learned Rube’s true position through Derrin, Camilla decided to ask him for help.
To investigate that many people, she needed someone else. Someone whose mouth would stay very, very shut.
“Please make it as fast as possible.”
“Understood. Ordinarily I shouldn’t do this for you, but...”
Black Shadow exists solely for the head of House Sorpel. It has no need to take orders from anyone else and no reason to render aid.
“Let’s treat this as an exception—just this once.”
But since Camilla knew the organization and his identity exactly and came to ask, he chose to make an exception this once.
“Keep it from my father.”
When he couldn’t answer that as readily, Camilla called him again, quiet.
“Rube, please.”
“...For now, I will.”
Rube dipped his head lightly at last and left the room.
Thud.
The instant the door shut, Camilla dropped into a seat as if her legs gave out. It felt like all strength drained from them.
“A chief is a chief, after all.”
She had been nervous, honestly. The man standing before her was nothing like the easygoing Rube she knew.
Not a butler, but the Chief of Black Shadow—razor-edged, permitting not the slightest gap. A very difficult man.
“For now, I’ll wait for the investigation to finish?”
Camilla threw herself straight onto the bed. She really didn’t want to do a single thing ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) more today.
****
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. That will help me tremendously.”
The bright smile would not leave Professor J.B.’s lips. Camilla had sent word she would help with his research.
“What would you like me to do?”
“Please copy out the passages I request from the book you said you have, and bring them to me.”
“All right.”
“Then I’ll see you again soon. I’ll organize the materials I need and let you know.”
“Please do.”
Rising, Camilla flicked a glance behind Professor J.B. Seven female ghosts still hovered at his side.
On the fourth day since she’d instructed Rube—yesterday—Camilla had received the completed dossier on all of them.
And she realized it again.
That he really was a psychopath.
The dead women had a clear common point. They were all adoptees who had never truly fit into their new families.
Learning that commonality left Camilla stunned all over again.
What on earth was he thinking?
Why kill women who suffered the exact same pain as his own sister?
No matter how she turned it over, Professor J.B.’s behavior fell outside any bounds of understanding.
Reading what Rube handed her, Camilla noticed one fact—and today’s meeting confirmed it.
She glanced back. Just before the door closed, Professor J.B. was still smiling brightly.
Clack!
The next target hiding behind that innocent-looking smile—
“So I’m next?”
—was her.
Chapter. Bait
Thunk!
Do I look that way to others, too?
Thud, thunk!
Her grip on the fork driving into the cake grew tight.
The reason Professor J.B. singled her out for “help” was all too obvious.
He thinks I look abused, too, doesn’t he?
Just like the other women he killed, he must be certain she was unloved and abused by her stepfather, the Duke of Sorpel.
If you’re ever troubled or have something weighing on you, come find me anytime. You know I counsel students here, right?
So that line wasn’t just talk.
There was another common point among the dead women.
Each had gone to Professor J.B. for “counseling” at least once.
They shared the miseries they’d long hidden with a man whose outward kindness was boundless.
“Camilla?”
“Yes?”
“Is something the matter?”
Seeing her only gouge at the cake with her fork without eating, the Duke of Sorpel spoke to her.
“Did something happen at the Academy...?”
“No, I just have a few things to think about.”
Camilla shook her head and forced a bright smile.
“Very well. If anything happens, tell me at once.”
“Yes, Father.”
She set down the fork, lifted her teacup, and took a sip.
Then she turned again to the Duke of Sorpel, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
Do you have more to say?
“How does this suit look?”
“It looks good on you.”
Going somewhere?
Now that she looked, what he wore wasn’t his everyday clothes. He was neatly dressed in a formal suit he’d wear out.
“It’s what I’ll wear to the next imperial council.”
The imperial council would be next week. Why put it on already?
“The color is very nice.”
Camilla hid her puzzlement and offered a light remark.
But the Duke of Sorpel’s odd behavior didn’t stop there.
After a brief silence, he pointed at his left chest, all of a sudden.
“This part feels a bit bare...”
It didn’t look bare to her in the least—but if he said so, what could she do?
When she nodded lightly that perhaps it did, his face instantly brightened.
“Wouldn’t it be good to pin on some kind of ornament?”
“Mm, I think that would be nice.”
“Right?”
“Yes.”
“A fox is one thing, but perhaps a tiger would be better.”
...A tiger?
Why a tiger, suddenly?
Because the house’s Guardian is a tiger?
That would look a bit odd...
Was he really asking to pin a tiger ornament?
While Camilla hesitated with an awkward smile, the Duke of Sorpel’s gaze flicked aside.
To where Ravi sat, sharing tea with them.
Camilla followed his eyes without thinking.
Huh?
Her eyes widened a touch.
On Ravi’s left chest was a small ornament—the Silver Fox Brooch she’d given him not long ago.
After all that scolding.
She almost laughed. He’d acted so indifferent, saying he had no occasion to wear a brooch.
Yet here we are.
Honestly, he’s a prim little fox. Choosing a fox for the brooch really was an excellent—
Hm?
Wait.
Left-side ornament?
A fox? A tiger?
Catching a very important point, Camilla looked back at the Duke of Sorpel.
Only then did she notice him gazing at Ravi’s ornament with open envy.
No way...
He—he wants me to buy one?
“A tiger would be best, wouldn’t it?”
...So he does want me to buy one.
Meeting the Duke of Sorpel’s steady eyes, Camilla gave an awkward smile.
Didn’t you dislike ornaments?
He liked things clean and simple; he’d balk if his own clothes were festooned.
He was the sort to take them off—so why now?
“A tiger, after all...”
...I’ll have to go shopping soon.
“A decoration or two would suit a knight’s coat as well.”
A low voice came then. Ludville—his gaze, too, was on Ravi.
If anything, his eyes burned even more than the Duke’s.
“...”
I’ll buy two while I’m out.
Watching those two fierce gazes, Camilla resolved to go shopping as soon as possible.
****
“Welcome, Lady Camilla.”
Professor J.B.’s home was very neat. Not very large, but plenty for a single man.
The interior was well appointed, too. Cozy enough that anyone would feel at ease.
“I’m sorry to ask you to come to my house on a day off. I suddenly needed those materials...”
“It’s fine.”
Camilla answered offhand and took the seat he offered.
“It may take some time, so I sent the carriage away.”
“Ah, good thinking. I’ll see you home when you leave.”
At her words he smiled broadly. Camilla smiled back.
“What kind of tea would you like?”
“Anything is fine.”
“Just a moment.”
When Professor J.B. went to the kitchen, the smile on Camilla’s face vanished.
Left alone, she slowly swept the parlor with her eyes again.
There it is.
On the window shelf sat a small box.
A plain black box that didn’t look like anything special. But the look Camilla fixed on it was colder than ever.
“I’m not sure if this will suit your taste.”
Soon he returned with white teacups filled with vivid yellow tea. A fragrant scent spread through the room at once.
“The aroma is lovely.”
“The taste won’t be bad either.”
His eyes curved gently at her compliment.
When Professor J.B. took the first sip, Camilla lifted her own cup to her lips.
As he’d said, the taste wasn’t bad. Despite the clear color, it was very strong and deep.
One sip, two...
Clink!
Slide.
With the tea nearly gone, her cup slipped from her hand and fell as Camilla’s body drooped to one side.
Professor J.B. did not start or show the least surprise at the sight of her sinking into a deep sleep.
He only lifted his own cup again and finished it.
After a moment he rose, unhurried, and neatly cleared the broken cup.
He even took his cup back to the kitchen, then returned to where Camilla lay.
“...”
Looking down at the softly sleeping Camilla, his face filled with pity.
“How much you must have suffered.”
His fingers stroked her neck—then tightened. His eyes grew mournful, as if he might cry that very instant.
“Poor thing... you’ll be at peace soon, so don’t wor—”
His eyes flew wide. Camilla’s eyes had snapped open—the woman he thought drugged.
