Mia told Oscar about losing The Henry Milton Sonnets.

“Then Young Master Clive saw me and offered to help.”

“I was sure it would be in the study, but I just checked—it’s not there.”

After hearing her explanation, Oscar asked calmly,
“But why were you searching the study?”

“I thought if someone had picked up the book I dropped, they might’ve put it back on the shelf.”

“Dropped it? You said you lost it earlier.”

His tone was sharp, almost accusing. Mia flinched, feeling small.
She knew it herself—her reasoning was flimsy.

“There’s also a chance I dropped it while carrying it around,” she added hesitantly.

“……My brother agreed with that idea too, didn’t he?”

Clive, who had tensed up beside her, gave a cautious nod, as if testing the waters.

Oscar let out a deep sigh. With one hand on his hip, he spoke in a voice tinged with both pity and exasperation.
“I’ve just learned that when kind people team up, blind spots start forming.”

“……”

“If it were me, I’d have checked the incinerator first.”

He elaborated quickly.
“Think about it. Would you really not notice if a book you were holding just slipped out of your hands? Or were you carrying that much stuff that day? You’re not the kind of teacher who’s careless, either.”

“……”

“Did you find any other suspicious traces in the room?”

Mia swallowed a sigh.
The scene she had deliberately pushed to the corner of her mind resurfaced.

“The cactus pot… it looked like it had been moved a little.”

“Then someone stole it.”

His conclusion was so clear, so direct, that it struck straight at the truth Mia and Clive had both been trying so hard to ignore.

In other words—someone employed in the Midstern household had stolen it.

Mia felt a mix of relief and guilt. At the same time, she was grateful that Oscar had taken on the role of the “bad guy” for her.

The Henry Milton Sonnets was precious to her.
The fact that nothing else was missing—only that book—meant the thief’s intention wasn’t theft for gain, but to hurt her.

Which also meant the stolen book had likely been thrown straight into the trash.

Mia let out a heavy sigh, weighed down by the thought of the book—torn apart, smeared with filth.

Clive’s face didn’t look much brighter either. Still, he reached out gently and patted Mia’s slumped shoulder.

“Let’s go to the incinerator first.”

Oscar caught sight of that natural gesture and chose to ignore it.

***

As expected, the incinerator area was empty.
They had probably already burned what needed to be burned this morning and sold whatever could be sold.

They called over Horry, the worker in charge, and asked him about the book.

“If not the book, then maybe… did you see anyone suspicious?”

“I didn’t see no one like that, ma’am, no, no….”

But of course, he wasn’t there all the time, and since all paper waste was burned, even if the book had ended up mixed in, it would be impossible to find now.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of help, ma’am,” he said apologetically.

“It’s all right. I’m fine. I’m the one who should apologize for troubling you.”

Mia forced a smile, trying to hide her gloom.

Oscar watched her quietly for a moment, his chin resting against his hand as if in thought. Then, just as Clive had done earlier, he reached out and gave her shoulder a friendly pat.

“You’re not fine, though.”

Horry, who had been about to leave, blinked and asked, “Pardon?”

Oscar glanced sideways at Mia, whose eyes widened in confusion, and stepped forward.

“It was a gift from her older sister,” he said. “They… can’t meet anymore.”

That tone—so wistful, so mournful!

Mia’s heart nearly dropped.
Oscar was deliberately choosing his words to lead the man into a misunderstanding.

Keeping a straight face, Oscar continued,
“Did you know? She writes in a shared diary with her sister every night.”

“Ah, n-no, sir, I didn’t kn—”

“She pours all her longing for her one and only sister into every word she writes….”

It finally dawned on Mia what Oscar was trying to do.
But Horry only bowed his head silently, looking stricken.

“That’s enough,” Mia whispered, just loud enough for Oscar to hear.

He shrugged. “Fine. Couldn’t be helped, anyway.”

They walked around the mansion and came out through the main gate. Mia turned to the two young masters and bowed politely.

“Thank you both for helping me look. Really, I’m fine. Who knows—maybe it’ll turn up somewhere unexpected in a few days.”

Even she didn’t believe her own words, but there was nothing else she could say.

Every time she saw the frayed edges of the bookshelf, Mia had thought, Maybe it’s time to let it go.
Now that the book had disappeared on its own, perhaps that was her answer.

The next day, Mia went to prepare for her lessons, while Clive returned home—supposedly to work on his novel (though that wasn’t what he told everyone).

Oscar, meanwhile, said he’d join them after a smoke.

He really did light one, standing under the porch. He smoked it fast, drawing in deep pulls until only the stub was left.

But instead of going back inside afterward, he caught sight of a maid wandering nearby and gave her quiet instructions.

Then, he headed back toward the incinerator, where he waited.

Soon, he heard hesitant footsteps—dragging, uncertain.

“Horry.”

Oscar fiddled with his cigarette case before holding it out to him.

Horry shook his head quickly, his trembling hands clasped together.

“That book was very precious to the teacher, you know.”

“Y-yes, sir… I know.”

“As you’re well aware, our family owes her a great deal.”

“……”

“And I’m sure you’d like to help her too, wouldn’t you?”

“Young Master, I…”

Oscar knew Horry wasn’t the type to lie.
He was a devout man—probably the only servant who actually used the chapel on the estate.

When asked earlier if he’d seen anyone suspicious, Horry had said he hadn’t seen “that kind” of person.
That was probably true.

And truth, Oscar thought, always depends on one’s point of view.

“Horry,” he said quietly, “I’m going to ask you a few questions now.
They’ll be… a little different from before.”

“……”

Horry was easily frightened.
If you pointed a spear at a man like him, he’d dive straight into his hole.

So Oscar deliberately softened his tone, making it sound as gentle and kind as possible.

“You saw someone near the incinerator yesterday, didn’t you? Not anyone suspicious—just… someone you noticed.”

Horry shivered like a man plunged into icy water.
But when Oscar didn’t press him—only waited with quiet patience—he eventually gave a small nod.

“I… I saw someone just as they were leaving….”

“A man? Or a woman?”

“A woman, sir. She was carrying a broom—one that had been leaning against the wall.”

“A broom?”

“Yes, sir. I heard it later turned up at the stables. So I went and brought it back myself.”

Oscar thought it unlikely that she’d carried the broom because she needed it.
More likely, she’d grabbed the first thing within reach—something to make herself look less out of place in case someone saw her.

That meant it probably wasn’t premeditated.
She must have entered Mia’s room, then stolen the book on impulse.

Oscar gathered the clues in his mind.

First—she was a woman.

Second, she hadn’t gone out yesterday afternoon.
Third, she’d left the broom at the stables sometime before this morning.
And lastly—the most important point of all—she was someone who knew how precious The Henry Milton Sonnets was to Mia.

Oscar rolled his neck lightly from side to side, loosening the tension in his muscles.
Then he spoke to Horry, whose face was still tight with guilt.

“You’ve been a big help, Horry.”

“Y-yes, sir. Then, if it’s all right, I’ll just… head back now—”

“Just one more thing.”

“……”

“You said you couldn’t confirm it for sure, but tell me—do you think there’s a chance the book might’ve gotten mixed in with the burn pile?”

“Young Master…”

Horry groaned in distress. But this time, Oscar didn’t let him off easily.

“And the paper waste—you burn it by the sack, don’t you? You don’t sort through it first?
Sorry, I guess that makes two questions.”

“……”

Horry couldn’t answer.

But from that silence, Oscar got the answer he needed.

He gave Horry’s shoulder a light squeeze and said quietly,
“If anything comes to mind later, come find me.”

Then, with one hand buried deep in his trouser pocket, Oscar sauntered around the corner.

Cookie, the maid assigned to the teacher, would know that the book meant a lot to her.
And who else?

Rio had mentioned it several times at dinner… so one of the maids who served at the table, perhaps.
And Lady Sienna’s personal maid—what was her name again…?