Chapter 1.6

The center of the case was never a safe zone. On the contrary, countless threats lurked everywhere. Azrael had accumulated numerous grudges—as an investigator, as a knight, and even as a Duke. 

Death had always been by his side. Even now, it remained the same. 

“Your worries seem endless. Is it because you’re an investigator?” 

“It’s an occupational hazard. I say these things to everyone.” 

“You’re kind. I’m glad you are such a person, Sir Azrael.” 

“…What do you mean by that?” 

“Just what I said. Just as you are with everyone, I feel like you’d come to save me if I were ever in danger.” 

Beatrice’s gaze lingered briefly in the air. She brushed her hair back and looked at Azrael again. 

“If such a thing happens, you’ll come to save me, won’t you?” 

“Of course.” 

“Absolutely?” 

“Yes, absolutely. Isn’t saving people the obvious thing to do?” 

That was Azrael’s duty as an investigator. Even now, he wore a sword at his waist—the blade bestowed upon him by the Emperor during his knighthood ceremony. Azrael had pledged loyalty to the Imperial Family and vowed to dedicate himself to justice. 

“Is this the mission you spoke of earlier? It’s romantic.” 

“Is that how it seems? I don’t know what you think, Lady, but I… I believe justice and romance are far removed from each other.” 

“Then, where does your romance lie, Sir?” 

“Romance… is a word that doesn’t suit me. Either I never had it, or it disappeared long ago. …What about you, Lady?” 

Until now, Azrael had lived solely for justice. Yet justice was easily swayed and tested by those around him. Knowing it wasn’t perfect, he never called it romantic. 

He had never considered a life outside fulfilling his duties. Azrael was strangely fixated on saving people. He was aware of his compulsiveness but had never changed. He couldn’t change. 

Beatrice seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. Her crimson eyes wandered through the world, brushing against the edges of romance. Finally, her gaze settled on Azrael. 

Beatrice smiled at him and said,

“Isn’t death rather romantic?” 

* * * 

After finishing their conversation, Azrael stepped out of the interrogation room and saw Carlson talking to a man. Judging by the circumstances, the man appeared to be the witness they had summoned. 

Azrael passed by the two and escorted Beatrice out of the investigation headquarters. Outside, Beatrice’s attendant was waiting for her. Strangely, the attendant’s right eye and both hands were covered in scars. He seemed more like a trained soldier than a mere servant. 

“Oh, Adam. Sorry for keeping you waiting.” 

Beatrice accepted her attendant’s escort with familiarity. She then turned to Azrael and offered a brief farewell. 

“Sir Azrael, I’ll be leaving now. Until we meet again, please stay safe.” 

“Yes, Lady. Please take care. Thank you for your cooperation.” 

Once Beatrice disappeared, Carlson, who had come out to the front gate, began bombarding Azrael with questions. 

“Commander! Who exactly is that lady? She seems awfully familiar with you. Do you know her from before? What did she come here for?” 

“Beatrice Delphinium, daughter of the Earl. She’s someone I owe my life to. That’s all.” 

“Oh, the Crown Prince’s lover! Ugh, what a shame. Here I was hoping our Commander had found a good match.” 

As Carlson’s nonsense threatened to drag on, Azrael began to tune him out. Carlson continued rambling to himself before blurting out something unexpected. 

“You know, it’s fascinating. That lady has white hair, doesn’t she? It’s rare to see women with white hair these days… Honestly, I was surprised.” 

“Carlson. That could be considered rude.” 

“No, no! I didn’t mean it that way… It’s just that it reminded me of a case. You know what I’m talking about, Commander—the ‘Lily Serial Murder Case’!” 

The ‘Lily Serial Murder Case’ was peculiar in that all the victims were women with white hair. 

The case occurred between 1896 and 1897, spanning about a year and claiming multiple victims. Most were commoners, but a few lower-ranking nobles were also among the victims. As a result of this case, the already small population of white-haired individuals dwindled to an even rarer number. 

The culprit was captured by the First Investigation Unit, which had been assigned to the case. However, the perpetrator never confessed to the crimes and committed suicide before the trial began. 

Two years had passed since then, and few people still remembered the case. Even at the time, the Lily Serial Murder Case didn’t garner much attention from the public. Instead, the Newethen Street Serial Murder Case was currently making headlines. 

“Yes, I remember. But now, two years later, another serial murder case has emerged.” 

Indeed, death was far from romantic. Despite encountering it countless times, Azrael had never found any trace of romance in it. It felt as though the two words didn’t belong in the same sentence. 

Azrael tried to guess Beatrice’s thoughts but soon gave up. He didn’t have the time to dwell on matters unrelated to the case. 

“Commander. It’s about time you headed inside. The witness is waiting.” 

“Alright. Explain as we go.” 

“Yes. The witness’s name is Robert Medley. He’s a coachman who personally transported an oak barrel from the victim’s tavern to the storage room. What this means is… While he’s not connected to the crime, there’s a high chance he witnessed the suspect.”  

It was suspected that the coachman had been hired by an intermediary working for the culprit. The culprit had consistently avoided direct involvement, instead bribing random individuals to act on their behalf. These intermediaries ranged from vagrants in the village to orphans in alleyways, and even passing strangers. 

Moreover, more than two intermediaries were often handed money along with a note. In some cases, the intermediaries who received the note would hire yet another intermediary to carry out the instructions written on it. 

However, this time, the situation was slightly different. 

“Good evening, Mr. Robert. I’m Azrael Hyacinth, the investigator in charge of this case. Please have a seat.” 

Robert awkwardly entered the room and pulled out a chair to sit down. His gaze briefly landed on the bandages wrapped around Azrael’s head. 

Azrael suspected that Robert might have interacted with the first intermediary hired by the culprit. If they could trace the chain of intermediaries back to its starting point, they might uncover clues about the culprit. 

“I summoned you to hear the details surrounding the transportation of the oak barrel. Can you provide your testimony?” 

“Oh, of course! I must share everything I know. You folks go through so much trouble because of people like us…” 

On the night of April 1st, Robert had been driving his carriage around the streets when a man wearing a robe emerged from a tavern and called out to him. The man handed Robert several silver coins and requested that he transport a wine barrel to the warehouse in the neighboring village. 

The man himself loaded and unloaded the oak barrel onto the carriage, suggesting that he was exceptionally strong. Aside from this, there was nothing particularly unusual about him—except for the fact that, despite the rain, he carried an umbrella but never used it. 

The testimony regarding the client ended there. Robert then explained the process of transporting the oak barrel. 

“Normally, I would’ve used the main road, but since it was late, I just wanted to finish the job quickly and return home. So, I decided to take the mountain path…” 

“The mountain path?” 

“Yes. It’s rarely used now that the roads have been paved, but coachmen in a hurry still use it occasionally.” 

If the mountain path had been used during transportation, it explained the multiple bruises found on the victim’s body. The rough terrain of the mountain path likely caused the victim’s body to repeatedly hit the inside of the oak barrel—knees and back colliding against its surfaces. 

Other than that, there was nothing noteworthy. Robert transported the oak barrel to the warehouse in the neighboring village and returned to the inn where he was staying. 

After that, the culprit must have arrived at the warehouse. They would have removed the victim’s body from the barrel, displayed it on a chair, and hidden the oak barrel in a corner. 

It would have been difficult to change the posture of a corpse once rigor mortis had set in. Considering this, the culprit likely visited the warehouse around dawn as well. 

‘Come to think of it, the attack also happened in the same village where the victim’s body was found…’ 

On the dawn of April 1st, two incidents occurred in the same village. 

The time when Robert headed to the warehouse coincided roughly with the time Azrael was attacked. It was possible that Robert had witnessed the culprit who ambushed Azrael. 

“One more thing, I’d like to ask you something. It’s unrelated to this case, but on that day…” 

* * * 

Beatrice walked along the street with Adam. She hummed a tune and glanced around at her surroundings. Adam followed a step or two behind her. 

“Do you think I’m truly in love with Sir Azrael?” 

All of Beatrice’s words and actions were nothing more than an act. Though her interest in Azrael wasn’t entirely false, her affection for him was fabricated. 

She wanted others to believe that she loved Azrael. Judging by Azrael’s reactions, she seemed to be succeeding to some extent. 

The fact that he tried to draw a clear boundary with her indicated that he was conscious of her actions. The primary reason was likely her status as the Crown Prince’s lover, but for now, his awareness of her was enough. What mattered was what came next. 

“Is there a particular reason why you insist on loving that man, Miss?” 

“There’s definitely a reason. People become weak in the face of love. They also become foolish. Adam, you’re not entirely unfamiliar with that, are you?” 

Adam didn’t deny it. He, too, had been a victim of such foolishness. 

Beatrice turned around and smiled at him. Her steps halted, and Adam stopped in his tracks as well. However, he couldn’t bring himself to think of her smile as genuine. Instead, it felt chilling. 

“When Sir Azrael becomes dull and retreats in the face of my love… will he die for me? He’s someone who declared that people must live, yet could he love me beyond his mission?” 

Her gaze was directed at Adam, but her words felt more like a soliloquy than a question. Using Adam as her audience, she continued to voice her thoughts. 

“I hope he does. I think Sir Azrael’s death would be quite romantic.” 

‘Death is romantic.’

Beatrice murmured in a dreamy voice. 

That didn’t mean she worshiped death itself. She didn’t consider death to be artistic. It was simply that the conclusion of death sounded romantic to her. 

When she raised her head, the blue sky came into view. It seemed there was still plenty of time before sunset. Beatrice summoned a carriage and sent Adam off alone. 

“You’re not returning to the mansion, Miss?” 

“No. I’m scheduled to be kidnapped today.” 

“Miss, what do you mean—”

Thud. Before the conversation could continue, Beatrice shut the carriage door. Adam hastily opened the window. 

“So, make sure to deliver the news to Sir Azrael without delay. There’s something I need to test.” 

“…Understood.” 

Adam lacked the strength to stop his reckless mistress. All he could do was comply and fulfill her wishes. 

As the carriage departed, Beatrice stretched lightly and began to leisurely wander around the village.