Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Those fathomless blue eyes watched her as though they would draw her in.

They gleamed with the sharpness of a predator locking in on its prey—like an eagle fixed on a rabbit. Under that strangely scrutinizing gaze, Rose couldn’t help but feel like a baby hare trembling before a raptor.

It was a bizarre sensation, as if she were frozen solid under hypnosis.

‘What the hell. This is my office!’

She couldn’t stand this situation, where the upper hand had so thoroughly slipped from her grasp.

Rose Taylor was too proud to simply give in to his overwhelming presence and meekly say, “Do as you please.”

“Ahem, well! As I’ve mentioned, I’m not a detective. Even if you’re calling it a request…”

“I’ll give you a generous deadline—one year.”

“What? Hold on. I haven’t even agreed to take the job.”

She tried to protest, but James pulled a blank checkbook from inside his coat as though he hadn’t heard her at all.

“Half the fee will be paid up front as a retainer. The rest will be divided and paid monthly as a stipend during the year. How does that sound?”

As he spoke, he began filling in the blank amount.

“This is your first month’s activity stipend.”

The amount he wrote in that elegant cursive was staggering—so ridiculous she almost wondered if it was a prank.

“If you succeed, the final bonus will be paid separately. I’ll double this amount.”

“Tw–two times…?”

The figure was enough to completely silence the last of her pride.

Even the upfront payment alone far exceeded the annual earnings of the former Huckard & Blavatsky Paranormal Agency.

Annual earnings? Forget that. With this kind of money, she could travel the entire country under the pretense of searching, stay in the most luxurious hotels, and still have change left over!

And he was offering to provide a generous monthly allowance on top of that?

Not to mention the double bonus if she succeeded?

Her mouth practically watered.

Sure, she’d never tried tracking a person before—but so what? How hard could it be?

Rose nearly blurted, “All right. I accept,” but barely managed to reel her brain back in.

Get a grip, Rose Taylor.

He’s trying to track someone using a paper flower as a clue.

Which can only mean the person he’s looking for… is a Mythos.

Wouldn’t it be reckless to help a Logos find a Mythos?

Think it through. That girl must have had a good reason for hiding herself from him. Maybe it was her choice, or her family’s.

And if helping James means reestablishing contact with the Mythos community… doesn’t that completely undermine the whole point of running away and declaring her independence? If her relatives caught wind of it, she’d be dragged back home within a week.

Just imagining it made her skin crawl.

Rose steeled herself: she wouldn’t get involved. She opened her mouth to decline.

Gurgle.

Of all times, her completely empty stomach chose that moment to cry out.

‘Right… I only had half a cracker this morning.’

Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t had a proper meal in a week.

As the memory of Mrs. Brown’s pancakes dripping with maple syrup came to mind—along with fluffy scrambled eggs and crispy bacon—Rose found herself staring at the numbers written on the check.

It was like a spell; she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

With this kind of money, she could lease a proper home, hire a housekeeper, and eat a warm dinner in a real restaurant tonight.

She wouldn’t have to drink weak, leaf-brushed water and pretend it was tea…

“Miss Blavatsky?”

James’s voice snapped her back to attention.

No. I can’t.

That girl must have had her reasons for staying hidden—just like me. I can’t expose myself or the Mythos community for money. No matter how much he offers…

But—what if?

“Mr. Dautryche. Just hypothetically. Let’s say…”

“Go ahead.”

“Let’s say I never find this woman. What happens to the money then?”

Her voice wavered slightly as she asked.

“Would I have to return the stipend…?”

“No. That’s a sunk cost. I won’t ask for it back.”

He slid the check forward.

“Even if you don’t find her, you simply won’t receive the success bonus.”

Well, in that case, what was there to worry about?

She could just take the job, enjoy the benefits for a year, then say she never found the woman. Nice and clean.

“I accept the request.”

Call it shameless, if you want. But for that amount of money, she’d already sold out every bit of loyalty she thought she had left.

Gurgle.

At the exact moment she solemnly accepted the job, her stomach let out another loud protest.

James fought to suppress a laugh.

“If you haven’t eaten lunch yet, how about we get a meal before drafting the contract?”

“A meal…”

“Let me treat you. Consider it a celebration for fulfilling one of my three goals.”

“A treat…”

The offer was too tempting to resist. She couldn’t help but swallow hard.

Just as she was about to say “If you insist,” and reach out to shake his hand—

“Are you open for business!?”

BANG!

The shout exploded through the room like a cannon blast.

Startled, they both turned to see a young man standing in the office doorway, gasping for breath. He wore a brown pinstripe suit and a tightly pulled bowler hat.

“Are you… huff… huff… open for business!?”

Two figures loomed in the thick fog—likely smog, really.

‘Why the hell am I doing this?’

Not long ago, James had leapt down from a carriage and was now tucked between the narrow alley walls of a building, staying out of sight.

Beneath his jacket, his fingers brushed against the shape of a concealed revolver.

‘Let’s hope I won’t have to use it.’

His eyes were locked on the silhouette of Rose ahead, tailing a man through the street.

To a stranger, it might look like he was a miserable stalker. But to understand why James Dautryche was following her, we need to rewind about thirty minutes.

The one who had burst in yelling “Are you open for business!?”—whom James refused to even call a ‘guest’—was none other than Detective Leonard Facili of the Linden Police.

Apparently, unlike Romberton, Linden’s police department didn’t teach their detectives basic manners.

James made no attempt to hide his irritation and closely observed the man now seated beside Rose.

“This is deeply embarrassing to admit, but we really have no one left to turn to. Ah! Not that I meant any offense—when I say ‘this kind of place,’ I wasn’t trying to disparage your profession, Miss Hampton.”

The detective was sweating like rain and speaking in rapid-fire bursts, as if someone were chasing him.

“You’ve likely heard from the papers—it’s all anyone’s talking about—that there’s been a string of murders recently.”

Only then did he notice James, who had been glaring at him like he was something scraped off a boot.

“Pardon me, but may I ask who this handsome gentleman is?”

“John Daring, here to request Miss Hampton’s services,” James replied coolly, using a new alias without flinching.

“In that case, Mr. Daring, would you mind returning tomorrow? It’s a rather sensitive matter.”

“I’m afraid tomorrow’s too late, detective. I’m already one signature away from finalizing my contract. But don’t mind me. Carry on.”

He flashed a polite smile and crossed one long leg over the other with theatrical nonchalance.

Rose stared at him, dumbfounded, as if to say What are you even doing?

James silently mouthed the words: ‘You still need to eat, don’t you?’

Yes, food. A proper meal, paid for by a rich man.

Food was important, of course.

But for Rose, this was also an opportunity.

“Well, if it’s an official request from a detective concerned with Linden’s safety, I suppose I ought to hear him out.”

If she could help solve a string of murders—or even identify the killer—it would be both an act of justice and amazing publicity for her struggling business.

James’s proposal was tempting, but that didn’t mean she had to turn down Detective Facili’s request.

Why not both?

“Mr. Dautr—no, Mr. Daring. I’m terribly sorry, but may we continue our conversation tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is quite a wait. How about this evening?”

“Then five o’clock this evening.”

That was her decision—and James had no standing to object. They weren’t in any sort of relationship… yet. Though that would likely change soon, once the contract was signed.

He nodded, choosing to take a step back for now.

“Then I wish you an informative conversation with the detective, Miss… Hampton.”

He no longer worried she’d run again.

After all, Rose was clearly desperate, and the only person in a position to fix that—at least for now—was James Dautryche.