Hours earlier, just before Nyx ended the lives of the nobleman and his driver…
Jack was already on the move, quietly trailing the detectives as they made their way toward a concealed room just beyond Sir Sil Bernard's office.
The moment he slipped away from the grand hall, he wasted no time. He handed the tray of crystal cups and the red wine to one of the maids whom he'd randomly come across. The maid looked at him in a daze for a moment as Jack finally walked away from her.
Once Jack caught sight of the detectives again, he slowed his pace, carefully measuring his steps to avoid drawing attention.
Fortunately, an opportunity presented itself.
Just outside Sir Sil Bernard's office stood a massive linen bin, overflowing with freshly laundered garments. Jack slipped behind it without hesitation as the detectives entered the office ahead. The obstruction gave him the perfect place to lie low.
While concealed, he couldn't resist solving another problem at hand. With the stench of wine clinging to him, walking around soaked would only invite more suspicion. He quietly rummaged through the bin, selecting a suitable set of clothes and changing swiftly and efficiently.
Looking himself over, Jack paused, wiping away the final traces of wine from his face.
I can't believe how ridiculous I look right now. I can barely fit into this shirt. Does this belong to one of Bernard's sons?
He frowned slightly. …Wait. Does he even have children?
The thought lingered as he straightened and faced the corridor ahead.
He was wearing a plain white shirt, slightly loose against his frame, and larger than what he usually preferred, but more importantly, it closely resembled the one he had taken off.
Approaching the closed door, Jack could hear people talking inside the room, but the voices didn't quite resemble any of the detectives, making Jack think twice before heading in headfirst without first figuring out who else was in there.
"Damn it… who in their right mind would be in there?" he muttered under his breath, his hand hovering just above the doorknob.
Tsk…
His eyes drifted to the walls as his thoughts raced.
What should I do now? If I go in there like this, my cover will be blown right away. I imagine they aren't expecting anyone else; everyone is already busy at the moment. Sigh... And if I stay here for so long, Sir Bernard might find me wearing these clothes, and that would only complicate things further.
He turned, facing the far end of the corridor, weighing his options.
Then, without warning, the muffled conversation behind the sealed door reached his ears again, clearer this time,
"These are all the boxes we brought as gifts for the lovely lady, the holder of this mansion, was speaking with earlier. We also brought an additional four, just like you requested in your letter."
The man spoke with an easy confidence; his voice was steady and mature—judging by the tone alone, he sounded to be somewhere in his early thirties.
"You've got everything right?" Another man said, his voice calm and mature. Then silence fell for a brief moment.
What in the world could they be talking about?
Jack couldn't help but wonder who the extra voices belonged to.
"But what exactly are you planning to do with the boxes, Sir Declan?" The first voice asked again from behind the door. "Does it have something to do with the serial killer running amok in the city?"
"More or less..." Declan replied, then paused briefly before continuing, his voice firm. "But you needn't involve or worry yourself bout that. Nowa and I are going to handle everything moving forward."
There was a short lull before Declan spoke again.
"And before I forget... Did you find anything significant in the apple juice?"
The man cleared his throat. "Yes, but we couldn't reach a proper conclusion about the substance used as the main key drug component. However, after we relayed the details to doctor Phillip, he suggested it might be an expired aphrodisiac mixed with toxins extracted from dried fish river."
The uncertainty in his voice lingered in the air, as if even he wasn't fully convinced by the explanation.
"Is that so?" Declan remarked.
"An aphrodisiac?" Nowa's voice followed. "Isn't that some kind of sex drug?"
"Yes," the man replied. "But in this case, it was an expired one."
"What difference does it make?" Nowa asked, confusion clear in his voice.
"You're asking the wrong person," the man said with a faint scoff. "I've never handled one myself. Truth be told, I've never encountered any kind of sex drug before. If you want proper details, you'll have to ask the professionals who actually deal with that sort of thing."
"And you call yourself a scientist," Declan added dryly.
"Well, I might be a scientist, but I'm no genius," the man replied with a shrug in his voice.
Laughter rippled through the room, brief and unguarded. Then, a moment later, it faded, leaving the space quiet once more.
"Anyway," the man continued, his tone retaining to business like, "go ahead and check if everything you need is in place."
Behind the door, Jack stood in a daze, confused about what was happening. A moment later, faint footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor, drawing closer and closer.
Oh no, this should be trouble.
Jack panicked, his gaze darting along the walls as he searched for an escape route. From inside the room, the sound of boxes being opened carried into the corridor.
At last, he found a narrow gap he could slip through. The problem was that it led straight back into the room with the detectives and the other men—and worse, the opening was so tight that only someone thin could fit.
***
A few minutes later, two maids walked down the corridor, carrying laundry as they headed to the lower floor of the mansion.
Jack was now inside the room, where Declan and Nowa studied two small boxes set side by side on a wooden desk.
Inside the small box, on the left, rested two brand-new revolvers, their bullets neatly lined up just below them. The box on the right was overflowing with cigarettes.
Jack had barely made it through the route, his heart pounding with movement. Luckily, no one in the room had noticed him yet, because at the moment, he was on top of a bookshelf pressed into the shadows of the room.
"This is everything Emily gave us… and oh, this letter as well," a bearded man said. And from the tone of his voice alone, it was clear he was the same scientist who had remarked, "He was no genius."
He carefully pulled out the letter and handed it to Declan. "She asked that I deliver this to you personally. From the way she handed it over, she seemed… worried about something. Then again, maybe I'm reading too much into it," he added, a faint frown creasing his brow.
"Thanks..." Declan replied in a calm, measured voice, slipping the letter carefully into his trouser pocket to read later.
Nowa's eyes flickered toward him, the name Emily catching his attention. For a moment, he couldn't help but wonder—was she Declan's daughter… or perhaps his wife?
Clearing his throat, Declan asked, "Did she say anything else?"
"...Well, no," the scientist admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Okay then," Declan said with a shrug. "Go ahead and open up the other boxes."
"Sure, sir," replied another man, the extra person in the room who had spoken earlier, his tone was respectful but alert, as if bracing for whatever might be inside.
But just as the man reached to open one of the boxes—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Someone knocking at the door interrupted them, making them all swivel to face it.
"Who might that be?" Nowa muttered under his breath.
Declan and the others exchanged quick, uncertain glances, shrugging subtly to indicate they had no idea. Meanwhile, Jack, atop the shelves, also shifted his eyes to the door, curious.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Declan moved toward the door and opened it. Standing there was a black-haired maid with striking green eyes and rounded glasses.
"Yes?" Declan asked, his tone calm but alert as he studied her.
"I'm looking for someone who goes by the name Declan," the maid replied, her gaze sweeping past him… and landing squarely on Jack, perched atop the shelf.
Melissa? What's she doing here? Oh no… is she looking at me? Jack thought, his blue eyes locking with her piercing green ones, a mix of surprise and unease stirring in him.
"Oh, that would be me… Did you need something?" Declan asked, his voice calm but attentive.
"Yes," Melissa replied, finally tearing her gaze away from Jack and focusing on Declan. "The master requests your presence."
"I'll be right there in a second," Declan replied, closing the door behind Melissa and turning back to the others.
"Alright… we should get moving," he added, glancing at the boxes. "And bring these with us. It might be best to open them while the owner of the mansion is present."
A few minutes later, Declan and the others finally left the room, the boxes in tow, and locked the door behind them. They never once realized that someone remained hidden in the shadows, silently observing everything they had done.
A few minutes later, Jack tried to slip out of the room—but found himself trapped. The route he had used earlier was no longer an option; from inside, attempting it would send the bookshelf crashing to the floor, alerting anyone nearby to his presence.
He sank onto a chair, rubbing his temples as he pondered his next move. Just as he was about to settle into his frustration, the door clicked open. Melissa stepped inside with her expression calm and indifferent.
"What are you doing in here?" Melissa asked, her green eyes narrowing slightly as she stepped closer.