Chapter 15

Rosalie instinctively knew. That man was the culprit behind the recent serial murders.

No evidence was needed. The large man radiated a menacing aura, his bulging eyes gleamed as if coated in oil, and half his face looked melted.  

All the victims so far had suffered severe facial mutilation. And this man too…

She felt the hair on her arms stand on end.

“Ugh…!”

In a flash, the man reached out and grabbed Rosalie’s neck. Shocked by his brute strength, she clawed at his wrist, but her toes never touched the floor, dangling helplessly in the air.

“Ah, Miss!”

The terrified maid burst into tears, not knowing what to do. Help me, Rosalie mouthed silently. The panicked maid screamed.

“Please, help us! Help us!”

“What’s going on, girls?”

Angela rushed out from the living room. The man cursed under his breath and yanked Rosalie toward him.

“Kyaa! Rosalie! What do we do! Call the police, call the police!”

Through her spinning vision, Rosalie saw Angela, stricken with fear. Only then did the maid snap out of it and try to move, but the man struck her head with his massive fist.

“Aah!”

“Mia!”

The maid, her head slammed against the wall, collapsed. Angela dropped to the floor in terror. Where was Gérard at a time like this?

The man hoisted Rosalie like a sack and hurried out somewhere.

***

After the suspicious man abducted Rosalie, Angela, trembling all over, crawled toward the maid.

“Come on, Mia, wake up…! Sob!”

The maid’s head was bleeding. Angela, legs shaking, forced herself outside.

Rosalie was already gone. Angela, forgetting she was barefoot, wandered the street in a daze.

Just then, she spotted two policemen approaching from afar. Angela waved her hands wildly above her head.

“Over here! Please!”

“What’s happened?”

The policemen, out on late-night patrol, rushed to Angela, who was shedding heavy tears.

***

“Earl Malève! Is the Earl here?”

Soon after, the terrible news reached Gérard at the Rodin clubhouse.

Even after midnight, Gérard, lacking the courage to approach Duke Vallière first, had been drinking nonstop. He slowly rose to his feet.

“I am Earl Malève.”

“Please, don’t be shocked. Your younger sister, Miss Rosalie Malève, has been taken by a criminal!”

“…What?”

“What do you mean? Why Rosalie?”

As Gérard, stunned, asked, Marquis Lamon pushed through the crowd and shouted. The policeman explained in detail what had happened at the townhouse, and the men’s faces turned pale with horror.

“To attack a noble’s home at midnight! The man must be insane!”

“This is no time for card games! Grab your swords and guns! We must catch the kidnapper!”

The drunken noblemen shared a single resolve—to rescue the lady in danger. Each grabbed their weap*ns and rushed out of the clubhouse.

The policemen tried to stop them, but it was useless. Gérard also grabbed a cue stick and ran with Marquis Lamon.

Rodin was a vast city. But with so many gentlemen turning it upside down, it seemed possible to find the culprit. They split up in front of the clubhouse.

Inside the now empty building, the policemen who’d come to deliver the news looked around and found someone.

“…Aren’t you going, Duke?”

One of the policemen asked cautiously. Hystein sat alone, quietly smoking a cigar.

He didn’t answer the question—he was deep in thought.

Gray smoke drifted into the air. In Rodin, everyone knew about Hystein and Rosalie’s past romance.

The policeman mentally criticized Hystein, thinking, ‘What a cold-hearted man, that Duke Vallière,’ and left the clubhouse, imagining telling his wife about it when he got home.

But contrary to the policeman’s assumption, Hystein’s mind was racing.

He thought rationally. Would rushing into the streets really help him find Rosalie?

If the criminal was so easily caught, he couldn’t have committed three murders already. The man who targeted only women with red hair…

Hystein’s dry lips moved.

“Gambling den.”

Rosalie’s case wasn’t certain, but the previous victims had all been connected to that place.

The first murdered waitress worked at a restaurant near the gambling den, and Inès, whose only brother suffered from gambling debts, practically lived there.

Inès had secretly visited the gambling den each time to bring her brother home. Countess Marti was already famous for her addiction.

In the end, all three women were likely seen at the gambling den. So, the culprit must be someone associated with it—or…

Hystein dropped his cigar to the floor and crushed it under his boot. He quickly got up and headed for the door.

“I’ll need a horse.”

He reached the back of the building, where carriages were lined up, and chose a nearby white horse. To find the killer, he had to uncover his identity, and to do that, he needed to go to the gambling den first.

But could Rosalie still be alive by then? He no longer cared for her, but to see her brutally murdered…

Blue veins stood out on his pale hands gripping the reins. As he thought of Rosalie, a memory suddenly flashed through his mind.

‘That b*stard tried to ass*ult Leoni and got doused with lye.’

It was true. After Gérard forced him to break up with Rosalie and left him battered, he had ended up staying at a country inn.

There was a barmaid there with long, bright red hair. Recently, one of the mercenaries lodging there had grown obsessed with her, even trying to force himself on her.

But the barmaid cleverly threw lye at the mercenary and escaped, and the guilty man was caught by the captain and expelled from the village.

After that, Hystein never knew or cared what happened to the mercenary. But if, just if, the man who kidnapped Rosalie was that mercenary?

Why did that forgotten memory surface now? Grasping at this faint clue, Hystein turned his horse from the gambling den toward the outskirts of Rodin.

The place where the mercenary had tried to ass*ult the barmaid was the mill. If the criminal was seeing his victims as that barmaid and seeking revenge, he would have taken Rosalie there as well.

“I hope I’m wrong.”

Hystein muttered as he rode. He hoped no one would be at the mill.

But the Rodin mill was not far from the gambling den on the outskirts, and close to the riverbank where Countess Marti was found. Hystein unconsciously spurred his horse faster.

Why did he feel so anxious and unsettled?

It wasn’t just because he was going to rescue Rosalie. Even if he were saving a woman whose face he didn’t know, thinking of her situation would make anyone feel sick.

“…Please.”

Hystein touched the scar on his left cheekbone. Soon, the mill appeared in the darkness.

If the killer and Rosalie were inside and sensed his presence, the danger to Rosalie could become even greater.

Hystein kept his distance from the mill so the killer wouldn’t notice, then dismounted. Mud splattered his trousers.

He crept toward the mill, breathing heavily. Inside, there were clanking sounds of metal and the muffled cries of a woman.

“I’ll cherish you, Leoni…”