Chapter 5.2

From a distance, Maurice felt relieved to see Mr. Wharton approaching. Edgar stepped in, positioning himself between the constable and Maurice.

“What seems to be the issue here?”

To Maurice, Edgar’s broad back appeared like that of a knight in shining armor, there to save him. Feeling reassured, Maurice straightened his shoulders confidently.

The man who had been adamantly insisting that a corpse was hidden in the theater fell silent upon Edgar’s arrival. Perhaps he believed even the theater’s owner was complicit, judging by the wary look in his eyes.

The constable calmly relayed the claims he had heard to Edgar.

“They’re saying there’s been a murder here. That a corpse is hidden somewhere, hanging from a hook, and that a masked killer is roaming about.”

“What a terrifying tale.”

Edgar’s tone was so composed that the weight of his words leaned more on “tale” than on “terrifying.” It was as if he was dismissing the story as just another baseless rumor, devoid of any credibility.

Moreover, his habitual smile lingered in his eyes, leaving no room for fear to seep into the atmosphere.

John Smith, who had been loudly recounting the chilling tale, stepped forward with an agitated expression.

“Denying it won’t help! No one can kill someone in silence, hide the body, and live as if nothing happened!”

The man’s loud accusations drew the attention of the onlookers. All eyes turned to Edgar, awaiting his response.

The curious glances seemed to anticipate some secret revelation about Edgar. Whether it tarnished the Flavium Theater’s reputation or not, the spectators were eager for an intriguing story.

For a moment, Edgar found himself under the scrutiny of countless gazes, as though he were performing on stage.

“This gentleman seems to have made quite the terrifying conjecture. A conjecture so dreadful that I hesitate even to repeat it. That someone died here…”

Edgar paused, lightly pressing his fingertips to his lips, as if the words themselves were too frightening to utter.

To Maurice, however, Edgar’s demeanor seemed oddly provocative, as though he were encouraging the crowd’s curiosity further.

Above all, the faint smile at the corners of Edgar’s eyes resembled the one Miss Wharton had described as his “lure.” It was the smile he used when coaxing people.

“That a masked ghost is watching from somewhere…”

Edgar glanced around as he spoke. Following his lead, the crowd began to look around nervously. A man dressed as a Roman general even flinched at the sight of the person beside him.

As the people searched for the ghost, Edgar continued speaking nonchalantly.

“But could anyone really kill someone silently and live as if nothing happened? In this country, we have laws, watchful neighbors, and most importantly, a reliable constable here. How could such a thing possibly happen?”

John Smith, hearing his own words echoed back, furrowed his brows deeply. He opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by Edgar.

“They say a ghost appears in Box 5 of the Flavium Theater, hanging bad people with a noose. And that I secretly disposed of the evidence. Such things could never happen.”

Edgar’s words were akin to saying, “Don’t think about elephants.” The more he spoke, the more vividly the ghost came to life in the listeners’ imaginations.

The murmurs about the ghost spread rapidly among the spectators.

“They say a ghost appeared in Box 5?”

“Goodness, it hangs people with a noose?”

John Smith, unwilling to let Edgar’s remarks stand, protested vehemently.

“But I saw it with my own eyes! A massive, grotesque ghost! What were you doing all this time, Mr. Wharton? Hiding something in a hurry, weren’t you?”

Even as John Smith, now visibly agitated, stood close to Edgar, Edgar remained unflinching, calmly looking down at him.

Maurice, worried that the enraged man might harm Edgar, stepped forward. But Edgar raised a hand to stop him.

The constable, finding Edgar’s absence earlier suspicious, also questioned him.

“Where were you, and what were you doing?”

“……”

Edgar remained silent. His lips were firmly sealed, as though the question had genuinely caught him off guard.

His reaction was strange.

Maurice knew Edgar to be someone who could smoothly lie his way out of any tricky situation.

“…I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

Maurice was shocked.

Can’t answer?

Maurice had never imagined the word “can’t” existed in Edgar’s vocabulary. Even when Lady Wharton tasked him with persuading the most difficult playwrights or actors, Edgar never said anything was impossible.

He always said, “It’s fine,” or “Don’t worry,” so much so that Maurice sometimes wondered if Edgar saw life as a child’s game—simple and easy.

The constable, too, seemed surprised. Although he didn’t believe in the ghostly rumors, Edgar’s reaction clearly aroused his suspicion.

As the murmurs grew louder, John Smith’s expression became triumphant.

“See? Why can’t you answer? You’re hiding a secret you can’t reveal in front of everyone!”

Though Edgar’s smile remained, it now seemed like a tool to defuse an awkward situation.

“It’s a private matter, so I cannot disclose it.”

“Private, you say!”

Seizing on the word, John Smith let out a scoffing laugh.

“Of course, it’s private. Disposing of a corpse without anyone knowing—if that’s not private, what is? You’d have to hide it in a secluded place, like an old dressing room or an abandoned costume room, where no one goes.”

The moment the costume room was mentioned, Edgar’s brow twitched. The reaction made it seem as though he had indeed hidden a corpse there.

“Impressive deduction. Yes, I was in the costume room.”

Hearing his own speculation confirmed, John Smith’s voice grew louder.

“Search the costume room immediately! If you search it, you’ll definitely find something suspicious.”

“No.”

The one who answered wasn’t Mr. Wharton. All eyes turned to another figure who had suddenly appeared.

It was a young lady dressed in a red gown and a black cloak.

Maurice found the design of the dress familiar. He recognized it as a costume from the opera ‘Carmen’. The hem of the dress, designed to spread widely for dramatic dancing, clearly marked it as Carmen’s dress from the old costume room.

But why was this young lady wearing it?

Was she the ghost of Carmen, upset over the play being canceled due to critics’ accusations of impropriety?

While Maurice entertained such absurd thoughts, the ghost of Carmen stopped beside Mr. Wharton.

“There’s no need to search.”

The young lady in the red dress spoke firmly to the constable. With all eyes on her, she took Mr. Wharton’s hand.

“Mr. Wharton is innocent. He was with me.”

Although the lady appeared small, surrounded by three men, her upright posture made her seem resolute. Standing between the constable and Mr. Wharton, she looked like a knight on a white horse defending him.

Facing the constable, the lady in the red dress continued.

“I can’t tell you what happened. It’s a very private matter.”

She stood close to Mr. Wharton, their familiarity evident. The sight reminded Maurice of a particular scene.

Mr. Wharton’s kissing partner, the ghostly gentleman.

Maurice’s gaze narrowed as he observed the two. Mr. Wharton’s affectionate expression, their clasped hands, the glances they exchanged, and the mention of a “private matter” all led Maurice to a conclusion.

Whatever had occurred between the two, it was undoubtedly personal.

The constable, facing the lady’s confident defense, found himself at a loss. Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to doubt the sincere gaze of the young lady before him.

“I understand.”

The constable finally replied.

The young lady smiled brightly, seemingly satisfied with his response. As she turned to look at Mr. Wharton, the flower on her head bobbed charmingly.

Mr. Wharton’s face lit up with a smile, as though he found the sight of Carmen’s ghost endearing rather than the flower.

The constable adjusted his hat, signaling the matter’s resolution.

“Well, it seems all misunderstandings have been cleared up.”

“No, this can’t be….”

While John Smith faltered, unable to continue, Mr. Wharton leaned toward the young lady in the red dress.

“It seems we’ll need to show them what happened to convince them.”

At Mr. Wharton’s words, the young lady frowned. However, Mr. Wharton maintained his cheerful smile.

The young lady in the red dress left Mr. Wharton’s side and approached John Smith. She tapped the dazed man on the shoulder.

“You’ll apologize to the lady you hurt, won’t you?”

Maurice didn’t understand the meaning of her words. John Smith seemed equally confused, his face blank. The young lady then leaned in and whispered something.

John Smith’s eyes widened in shock. Whatever she had said clearly startled him.

What on earth did she say?

Maurice was truly curious.