Chapter 41: Cherry Chloe

"I would love to show you my new clock; it is absolutely exquisite..."

"Yes, yes, I imagine you discovered the little 'mechanism' on the dial?"

"Hahaha, Mr. Dewinson, nothing gets past you! Oh, that's right, it's a purple gemstone—what? The whole clock? No, no, it cost at most a few dozen pounds. It’s cheap and practical, just a trifle."

"Some with less refined taste wouldn't even notice it, much like this brooch: custom-made, three-tone gold with wild pearls and gilded crushed shells. Do you see this flower?"

"I couldn't say how long the hand-crafting took... True, you are also familiar with Rococo—ah! I mean, you are truly knowledgeable; you even know about our little indulgences in spending... Hahaha..."

"I notice you aren't wearing any accessories. Is that for work?"

"...I've ordered a ring with a pavé-set turquoise blue face; it took a single large piece of material to make just a few of those. Let me think... when I have a free day, I'll invite you to admire it. Haha, yes, you are the most discerning person I’ve met..."

Ever since entering the house and having the servant take his hat and coat, this Mr. Mins Chloe, who looked sharp as an awl, had kept Fernandez trapped in a relentless stream of chatter.

His mouth was filled with foam about dozens and hundreds of pounds. Roland sat on the periphery, listening to the priest respond with awkward politeness.

He was indeed quite knowledgeable.

The two were deep in conversation.

As for Mrs. Cherry Chloe, she didn't have much to say; she stood properly to the side, not sitting down.

"...My wife, yes, that’s how women are—always trying to invent problems for men. Honestly, I think she should rest more and stop running off to those disreputable places in the East District."

Mins Chloe smiled broadly as he introduced his wife to Fernandez.

Roland quietly lowered his head.

"It’s all your fault, Roland."

—Whose side are you on?

"I did hear strange noises, dear," Cherry retorted mildly. She looked toward Fernandez and Roland, her eyes narrowing just like her husband’s, smiling with practiced 'etiquette.'

"I shouldn't interrupt the gentlemen's conversation, but this time it is different, gentlemen. I truly heard unusual noises in the night, right here in the house."

Fernandez tapped the reflective tabletop and asked a few questions.

Afterward, he prepared to inspect the mansion.

"Of course, Pink, take these two gentlemen around!"

He plucked a cigar from a pine box on the table, clipped the end with a small curved knife, held it between his fingers, leaned back, and fished a small, square box from his pocket.

"I won't speak ill of her, but women always like to dream—whether it's daydreams or night dreams. Such a small matter, and it requires these two gentlemen to make a trip—oh, one is a little gentleman."

He seemed to have 'just' noticed Roland. Leaning in to bring the cigar to the flame emerging from the box, he squinted his eyes and took a satisfied puff.

Milky white smoke drifted from between his fingers.

"Taylor’s goods are just different..."

"Just take a look around. Pink, where is my gold-mounted cane..."

Fernandez grinned, strode over to the servant named Pink, and gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, sending the man stumbling.

Cherry Chloe fussed with her dress and followed, swaying.

Mr. Chloe—or rather, to be precise, his Lordship.

If not for his title, this Chloe the Second would hardly have been able to marry a lady as charming and wealthy as Cherry—her father was a fairly well-known banker, and she had brought a substantial dowry with her.

But if Sir Mins Chloe had been like other noblemen, holding land or other profitable ventures, he would never have married a 'lower-class' woman reeking of copper.

Even if she were beautiful.

One had status but no gold; the other had gold but no corresponding status.

Two shrewd families, each admiring the 'merits' of the other, hit it off instantly.

"I'll check the second floor," Fernandez said to the servant, then turned to Roland: "Are your preparations—"

Roland patted his coat.

It contained several vials of holy water.

Daggers and a pistol were tucked into his belt and boots.

Fernandez nodded, bowed to Cherry Chloe, and followed the servant upstairs.

In the first-floor atrium, only Mrs. Cherry and Roland remained.

"...So you are an Executor, Mr. Roland." Mrs. Cherry tilted her head slightly toward Roland, the silk flower on her head trembling with the movement.

"I thought she would call you 'little angel'."

—I thought you could stay silent a little longer.

"You knew I was an Executor?"

Roland meant that he and Fernandez were, for the moment, ostensibly detectives from the Inspectorate.

"I know quite a lot." Cherry gave Roland a teasing side-glance, her tone sounding like she was humoring a child: "I know you all can perform parlor tricks—I mean, that method, where flames 'poof' out of your hands?"

Roland didn't rush to answer; he tapped his cane, his ears tilted to the other side.

He 'saw' the sound of light, fragmented footsteps.

This posture made Cherry look back as well: "...Oh, it seems this won't be finished anytime soon. Come with me, little angel. I’ve just brewed a pot of good tea."

"Look, she called you that!"

Mrs. Cherry Chloe’s reception room had a massive mirror—nearly as tall as Fernandez—with a rose-carved frame dusted in gold powder.

Every piece of decor in the room, in Roland's view, adhered to a style of 'excess':

Extremely intricate; even a lamp shade that was likely never used was painted with beautiful patterns.

On the pale green tabletop lay several pens, a ruby-encrusted bracelet, and two boxes of round face powder.

A large vase.

And tea and pastries.

The room was scented with incense, faint and not at all cloying.

"You surprise me, Roland." Cherry Chloe poured a cup of tea, pushed it toward Roland, and moved the pastry stand closer to him: "Eat something, it’s all freshly made."

Roland thanked her, took a small sip of tea, and 'looked' around.

Even with his "Spirit Vision," he manipulated his "Secret" to perform a secondary check.

The result was the same.

He hadn't detected anything 'abnormal' in this room.

Not from the moment he entered until now.

If the second floor was the same, it would be strange.

"Madam, you heard these odd noises at night. What about during the day?"

"Never during the day." Cherry Chloe shook her head: "Just recently, in the nights of the last two weeks. At first, I thought it was mice and had someone check; later, they said it was crows, and I had them check..."

This was much like what she had told Fernandez earlier.

Unexplained noises.

"Sometimes, it sounds like fingernails scratching against glass."

Mrs. Cherry added. She still felt uncomfortable just recalling the sound: "It’s very piercing, sound after sound, preventing me from resting properly..."

"Where are the servants?" Roland asked.

"All on the first floor," she pointed upward: "I live on the second. Aside from my husband, there is no one else."

She looked at the young man, who was lost in deep thought, and for some reason, she let out a muffled laugh.

"You really do look the part," she said.