Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Rose, completely swathed in a robe, shot James an exasperated look.

“Good grief…”

James just shrugged once.

“Come on, get going. Look—people are already peeking in from outside the tent.”

He checked Rose’s outfit repeatedly before finally pushing her out.

Watching James disappear into the crowd, Rose settled back into her seat and beckoned to a customer lingering at the entrance.

“Welcome! What’s troubling you today?”

Business began—or rather, the investigation did.

Frehen Street was famous for its flea market, and even at this early hour, the place was crowded.

Is Grace even here, among all these people?

A few customers came by, but she got nothing about the woman named Grace; she had no idea what she looked like or how old she was.

Local merchants weren’t much help either.

“A fortune teller or psychic? Hard to say, miss. There are so many like that around here.”

“Grace’s free readings? Ha! There are hundreds of vendors here. Free readings are a dime a dozen—who could remember?”

Rose had hoped she’d at least pick up one or two leads in Frehen Street, but it was proving tough.

Was my theory wrong? Did I just string together a bunch of coincidences into some paranoid fantasy?

She stared blankly at passersby, lost in thought.

No. At the very least, this is definitely connected to Mythos. That chalk powder is clearly a trace of a magic circle. Stabbing the heart is part of some ritual with a sinister purpose.

Even if it was an insane coincidence for three Revis to turn up in the morgue, how could the cause of death and those strange details all be the same?

Come to think of it, why is James taking so long?

Even with the cool weather, it was still summer. Sweat was soaking through the layers of her outfit, and she was just about to throw off the robe when she heard a young woman’s voice at the tent entrance.

“Are you available for a reading?”

“Of course! What would you like to know? Palm reading? Face reading? Tarot? I even have a crystal ball.”

“Oh my. So many options.”

The woman wore a thin hood that concealed her face, but under it spilled red curls, her lips were painted bright red, and her narrow chin suggested she was quite beautiful.

Come to think of it, Arthur’s mistress had hair like that. Red and curly.

It was an unwelcome memory. She wasn’t thrilled, but she couldn’t exactly throw out a customer for looking like someone she disliked.

“I’d like my palm read. I want to know if my current work will go well.”

“Very well. Please give me your right hand.”

Rose deliberately indicated the hand with a ring, planning to read its memories while pretending to examine her palm.

“By the way, I don’t think I’ve seen you around Frehen Street before.”

The woman sat down and extended her hand smoothly.

“How about a greeting between fellow Mythos?”

“…!”

Those bright red lips curled into a knowing, eerie smile. Through the ring, a rush of memories was forced into Rose’s mind: a complex magical circle, someone bleeding out across it—Betty.

“You—you’re…”

“Oh my. Don’t tell me you accepted me as a customer without knowing who I am? Not such a talented seer after all.”

“Grace. You killed Betty, didn’t you.”

“Ah. Grace? Yes, that’s what they call me here in Frehen Street.”

Rose swallowed hard and tried to recall all the contingency plans she’d been rehearsing in her head all day.

But the woman read her like an open book.

“I didn’t come here to fight you today, Miss Rose Taylor. Or should I say, the Broken Grail.”

Rose’s eyes went wide, and she shot up from her chair in shock.

“You’re seriously surprised just because I know your name? Miss Taylor, did you forget how famous you are among Mythos?”

“…What are you people, really?”

“Us? Oh, let’s say we’re devotees of Reverse Heaven, longing for a new world for Mythos.”

She slipped the ring off her hand and placed it on the table.

“We priests of Ouroboros can be a bit obsessive. Even if the thing we want is broken, that doesn’t stop us wanting it. Especially the Principal. He just can’t let you go.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means he has no plans to hurt you—yet.”

Grace stood up and delivered her parting words.

“If you really don’t believe me, go to Egard.”

“Wait! Hold on!”

“Goodbye. Tell that tall, handsome, rich Revis boyfriend of yours to take care of you until then.”

“Grace! Wait!”

Rose lunged out of the tent, but Grace was already gone as if by magic.

Instead, almost on cue, a man who screamed ‘trouble’ blocked her path.

“Well, well, fortune-teller lady. Were you waiting to greet me, knowing I’d walk by?”

He leered in her face, breath reeking.

“Let go of me!”

“Heh, what kind of way is that to talk to a paying customer? Don’t you want to make some money?”

His clammy, sweaty hand clamped tight around her wrist.

If only this weren’t such a crowded market!

Seeing her disgust, the man only smirked wider.

“Hm? How about reading our compatibility? Don’t wanna? Then maybe we can go somewhere private and find out if we’re a match that way.”

People started gathering at the commotion.

A few tutted in pity, but no one moved to help.

Rose winced and calculated how to get him off her without drawing even more attention.

Should I trip him with a bit of earth magic? No—that’ll trip me too. What about a sharp static shock?

It grated that Arthur used to scare creeps like this off easily.

Of all times for that bastard to pop into my head,

Her disgust curdled into outright rage.

“Wearing see-through, slutty clothes to work and then acting all stuck-up…”

Then, a low voice sounded behind the man.

“That’s enough.”

James had arrived.

“Who the hell are you? You looking to butt in?”

Clearly confident in his own toughness, the man squared up despite James towering over him.

“Let go. Now.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Her pimp or something—ugh!”

He didn’t finish the insult. James punched him clean in the solar plexus with a quick, precise jab.

“Ggh—cough…”

The man’s grip on Rose’s wrist slackened and fell away. It had happened in an instant.

“Rose. Are you all right?”

“Y-yeah! James. Thank you.”

He quickly examined her wrist, now red and marked.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Grace was supposed to be here working today, so I was checking around for her.”

He gestured dismissively at the groaning man on the ground.

“Was there anyone else harassing you?”

“N-no. Just him.”

“…It’s the outfit, isn’t it.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

Just then someone whistled and clapped.

“Nice one!”

“Hey, you’ve got a mean punch!”

“Ahh, that felt good to watch. Bastard’s been bothering every woman in the market!”

Applause broke out from all sides.

James winced.

“Sorry. I drew more attention than planned. This might ruin your investigation…”

“It’s fine. I met Grace.”

“You met her? Really?”

James’s eyes widened at her calm answer.

“I’ll tell you everything back at the estate. She even left me a message.”

Rose turned her gaze to the ring Grace had left behind on her table.

Clearly she hadn’t just wanted to say things in words; she wanted Rose to remember them.

She picked up the ring, examining its design—a serpent devouring its own tail.

“Priests of Ouroboros, huh…”

Rose murmured, clutching it tightly in her hand.