Chapter 71

Chapter 71

“Yes. That’s right.”

At James’s immediate reply, Rose felt her heart drop.

It had been more than ten years; the doll was a common, mass-produced toy, hardly something that could serve as a clue in his search for that girl.

And yet—you still have that doll?

She wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out. Her lips refused to move.

But she didn’t need to ask—James answered anyway.

“I’ve kept it safe all this time. If there’s a chance, I’ll show it to you someday.”

His voice was soft, tinged with affection. His gaze drifted somewhere distant, heavy with memory; there was a gentleness in his face that Rose rarely saw.

So that’s it…

He wasn’t keeping the doll out of neglect, or forgetfulness, or lack of reason to throw it away. He truly wanted to meet that girl again.

Rose’s chest felt unbearably heavy.

“I… hope you find her soon.”

“That depends on you.”

“I’m doing my best!”

She’d managed to summon every last drop of goodwill to offer her support, only to be met with his usual teasing tone. Rose’s cheeks puffed in protest as she turned away sharply—

“I know.”

She froze.

“You think I was dragged into the Mythos serial kidnappings by chance. That’s why you’ve been contacting Miss Iris Brown.”

When did he move so close?

James was suddenly right beside her, his blue eyes locked onto hers, so close she could hardly breathe.

“I know everything.”

His scent mingled with the low murmur of his voice, brushing her ear like static.

“If you met that girl again… what do you think it would be like?”

Rose didn’t realize how much her voice trembled when she asked, “You’d… be happy, right? Relieved? Feel accomplished?”

James smiled faintly, as if the answer were obvious.

“Of course. There’s much I’d want to talk about. It would be even better if she remembered me.”

“…”

“Stories only we know. The years we both lived through, apart.”

Only James and that girl. Their shared past, their private memories. There was no place for Rose in that space between them.

“For fifteen years, she’s been part of my life, even without being there. I’ve always been searching for her.”

I can fold paper flowers too, she thought.
I have soft brown hair with a pink tint, and violet eyes.
And I… I had that rabbit doll too, but—

“You’ll find her soon, I’m sure. Think about it—there were 1,018 possible candidates in Romberton alone, and now there are only five across the country!”

Rose forced her voice into a bright, encouraging tone.

“If all goes well, you’ll be swimming in money soon, Rose.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Hiring you might have been divine providence itself. I’m starting to feel religious.”

“I’m sure God can tell when you’re joking.”

“Ha! Caught me.”

James laughed heartily, unable to hide his amusement. After a week cooped up in his office, he’d missed this—her banter, their sparring, the ease of it.

“By the way, didn’t you say you had something to tell me?”

“Oh, right! Miss Iris Brown will be arriving at Triden Mansion in two days.”

“I see.”

“She said she booked a room at an inn downtown, but I was thinking of inviting her to stay here instead—it’s dangerous for a woman to travel alone.”

“Do as you wish. I already told you to handle matters concerning Triden Mansion. You don’t need my permission to host a guest.”

Wait—that’s what he meant by ‘I’m entrusting the mansion to you’? That’s nearly the authority of a lady of the house!

The thought made Rose’s shoulders tense. The responsibility felt far heavier than she deserved.

“Anyway, I thought you could talk with her while she’s here.”

“Perhaps. But Miss Iris is not that girl.”

“What makes you so sure?”

The words came out sharper than she intended.

After all, arranging this meeting had taken everything she had—days of delicate letters, internal wrestling with jealousy and resignation, endless care in every word. Iris Brown wasn’t just any guest; she was a potential piece of James’s past.

And his answer was simply, She’s not the one?

Rose deflated, though a traitorous part of her—small and shameful—was relieved. She’d never admit it, least of all to him.

“Rose, Miss Iris is beautiful. Graceful, refined.”

“…Yes.”

“Kind, gentle—a woman straight out of a moral handbook.”

“…”

So he’s been watching her that closely, huh?

Her mood sank again.

“But you see…” James’s tone shifted.

“That girl could never be like that.”

“What?”

“No matter how much education she might have had, I don’t believe that mischievous girl could have turned into a swan.”

“Oh, come on. People can change with the right upbringing!”

“Upbringing changes habits, not nature. Take you, for example, Rose.”

“Me? What about me?”

James chuckled softly.

“Your temper. The way you flare up so easily. You can’t hide it.”

“W–what…?”

“It’s obvious.”

“Even when I was pretending to be Olga Blavatsky?”

James paused, pretending to ponder deeply.

“This is important, you know—it’s my livelihood!”

At her earnest plea, he smiled, amused.

“Unless someone’s watching you very closely, they’d never notice.”

“Whew…” Rose let out a breath of relief.

“I’ll talk to Miss Iris when she arrives. Is that all you had to tell me?”

“Mm… yes.”

Of course, there was more—like the dreams she’d been having every night, the ones of young James and his mother—but that wasn’t something to bring up now.

“Good. Then I have something for you.”

James reached into his jacket and took out an envelope—the same one Crowley had sent under a false name.

“A letter from your uncle.”

“Golden C. Raven, head of the Institute of Arcane Energy?”

Rose blinked. Her uncle had written to James under that suspicious alias?

A sense of unease crept up her spine even before she unfolded the letter.

By the time she reached the end, her face had gone pale.

“The Bureau of Investigation… it’s in danger, isn’t it?”

Her voice trembled; she hadn’t even realized she’d spoken aloud. The weight of it all pressed down on her chest like a stone.

Two days later.

“Thank you for inviting me, Miss Hampton.”

Iris, who still believed “Rose” and “James” were traveling under their false names, had finally arrived at Triden Mansion.

Her radiant smile seemed to fill the room with light; she truly looked like a goddess.

“I’ve never seen such a beautiful place. It’s like something out of a dream.”

Though she wore no expensive clothes, no ornate hat, and carried only a modest parasol, her natural grace harmonized effortlessly with the mansion’s elegance.

“Welcome, Miss Iris! You must be tired from the journey.”

“Not at all! I slept quite well on the train.”

Iris laughed brightly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the concern.

“More importantly, I imagine both Mr. Dillon and Miss Hampton have been waiting eagerly for this list—but I thought it only proper to greet you first.”

A beautiful face, a kind disposition, and thoughtful manners—she was the picture-perfect lady from a society etiquette manual.

Even her posture was impeccable, so refined that Rose found herself unconsciously straightening her own shoulders again and again as she escorted Iris down the hallway toward the drawing room.

Then, just before the tea that had been prepared grew cold, a deep, familiar voice cut through the soft hum of conversation.

“I’ve kept you waiting, Miss Iris Brown.”

James had finally entered the room.