After saying goodbye to Gustav and his son, Charlotte followed her father into a four-wheeled carriage. The baron's valet stood on the iron platform at the back, while the coachman sat up front, leaving the two of them alone inside.
To the steady rhythm of hoofbeats, the carriage rolled slowly along the rather narrow road. Its crude suspension made the cabin jolt and sway, giving Charlotte, who was used to the smooth ride of modern vehicles, something akin to seasickness.
Of course, she had no attention to spare for that discomfort. Baron Raoul Sauron sat across from her, his brows knitted tightly and his pale green eyes fixed on her.
Neither spoke. They sat in silence in the swaying carriage for several minutes, until it crossed a bridge along a road with streetlamps spaced dozens of meters apart and entered the level streets of Saint-Roc District. Only then did Raoul speak:
"Don't burden yourself over Marceau's death. Whatever way you look at it, that was necessary self-defense.
"Even if there is some legal trouble, I'll sort it out for you."
That sounds awfully like something a villain would say. If a transmigrator showed up at Etienne Marceau's house right now, the next part would be the protagonist's rise to power and overthrow of Baron Sauron's tyranny... Charlotte grumbled inwardly, but her anxiety over Etienne's death did not disappear.
It was not that she doubted her father's ability to pull strings as a noble. After losing his beloved wife and two children in succession, the baron showed his love for his only surviving daughter, Charlotte, in every aspect of her life. He would undoubtedly use every means available to clear her of blame.
But Charlotte, with a modern person's soul and sense of right and wrong, did not feel superior to others simply because she was a noble. She still could not accept the fact that she had killed a living human being.
Drawing a dagger to fight back in a desperate moment was one thing; recalling the killing once she was safe was another... Etienne's pale face and blood-gushing chest surfaced in her mind again, and she could not help reaching toward her waist, toward the dagger tucked back into her belt.
When Raoul's gaze followed her hand to the large bloodstains on her dress, Charlotte spoke, as if to change the subject:
"Father, do you know why Etienne wanted to deceive and abduct me?"
"That is what I wanted to ask you," the baron said, raising his head and resting his gaze on his daughter's face, his expression rather grave. "As far as I know, this lawyer earned a decent income and had no debts. He wasn't the sort to take desperate risks for money."
"So what exactly happened tonight?"
Charlotte had already told him everything she had experienced since waking in the alley. She knew he was not asking about that period, but she could hardly reveal that she was a transmigrator. She could only frown as though trying to remember, then shake her head after a moment.
"I don't really remember. I think there were screams around me, and the smell of blood. Then I woke up in an alley in the old district..."
She did not conceal those scraps of memory, hoping her father might reveal more. Unfortunately, he merely looked puzzled and murmured:
"Memory loss... screams and blood?"
After glancing at his daughter's commoner clothing, which did not suit her station, and the bloodstains that were not hers either, the baron suddenly leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"You haven't been hurt in any way, have you? I mean physically or mentally...
"Don't be afraid. Be brave and tell me."
Hurt? Charlotte froze. Looking at the worry in her father's pale green eyes, she only understood after a moment.
He thinks I was... that someone did that to me, and then I couldn't accept it and suffered some kind of mental breakdown? How could that be? Nothing feels wrong with my body... Unsure whether to laugh or cry, Charlotte hurriedly shook her head in denial.
"Of course not."
Only then did the baron straighten again, his expression relaxing.
Seeing this, Charlotte raised another question:
"Could what happened tonight be connected to the murders in the old district that the Night Watcher mentioned?"
If Etienne wasn't after money, but was one of the killers behind those serial murders, everything would make sense...
"Impossible!" Raoul suddenly cut in, his tone stern. "Don't speculate like that, and don't mention it to anyone else."
He turned toward the carriage window, looking at the outlines of streets illuminated by crimson moonlight and streetlamps. In the distance, a clock tower with a golden dome and enormous glass oil lamps all around it shone like the sun, lighting the magnificent onion-domed building beside it.
That was Saint Roch Cathedral, the cathedral of the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun in the Sushit diocese.
Just when Charlotte thought her father would fall silent, he added in a low voice:
"Those weren't ordinary murders. A great many people died. The Church will be taking action tonight."
The Church... Etienne said something similar. They all consider religion very important, even more important than the army or the Sheriffs?
At that thought, Charlotte also edged closer to the window and glanced at the church, whose appearance gave her a faint sense of familiarity.
Only after the clock tower, visible throughout Saint-Roc District, had been left far behind did the carriage enter a sizable estate.
Looking at the courtyard walls dimly outlined in the darkness and the brightly lit three-story detached house, Charlotte finally gained some tangible sense of the wealth and status represented by the title of baron.
It seems much wealthier than the Gustav Family... no, this estate is practically in the suburbs, while Uncle Leon's house is in the city center. Their prices would be completely different... As she stepped out of the carriage, she assessed the fortunes of the two barons she had met that day, then realized dejectedly that her own family was not as wealthy as the family of Roselle, who had not even mastered social etiquette.
Saint-Roc District, where Baron Sauron's residence stood, lay in the eastern part of Suhit City, beside the Sona River, with the army-garrisoned Anai Fort to the north and Fauville Mountain to the south. It was the city's oldest district, home to its first church and first bridge, as well as the residences of most of its nobles.
But as the silk industry and financial sector continued to develop, the city's center of gravity had long since shifted to the peninsula formed by the confluence of the Sona River and Rhine River. Both the populous, chaotic old district and Bols District, which housed the city hall, exchange, and High Court, were more prosperous than this area. Property prices had naturally risen with them, and the building owned by the Gustav Family near the municipal square was not necessarily worth less than the Sauron family's old residence.
Putting aside this inexplicable urge to compare fortunes, she followed her father through the doors into the entrance hall. Several male and female servants who had been waiting immediately came forward. One maid, whom Charlotte vaguely recognized from her memories, went pale with fright at the sight of her covered in blood.
But Charlotte looked past her toward the broad landing leading to the second floor, directly opposite the entrance. A huge oil painting hung there, its colors rich beneath the carefully positioned oil lamps on either side. The figures sitting and standing within it looked lifelike.
The red-haired man in a velvet coat standing before a desk was Raoul Sauron, who was currently having his coat changed by the servants. He stood at the painting's focal point, looking somewhat younger than he did now, his red hair more flamboyant and his features full of aristocratic pride.
Seated beside the baron was a brown-haired woman in a pale silk dress, her features soft and lovely. Her eyes were lowered toward the infant in her arms, her expression gentle and serene. Beside her chair sat a girl of five or six, her lace skirt spread like flower petals and her upturned little face wearing an innocent smile. On the baron's other side stood a young man nearly as tall as him, dressed in a military uniform with two medals on his chest. One hand rested on the sword hilt at his waist, the other behind his back, and his expression was solemn.
This was a portrait of Raoul Sauron's family, but it had not been painted at any particular moment. The baron had painted it himself from memory, recreating each family member at their finest, at different points in their lives.
The woman seated in the armchair was the young baroness, and the infant in her arms was the newborn Charlotte. Yet Charlotte had little recollection of that face.
Her mother had died in an accident before Charlotte was even a year old.
Then my older sister Dana, and my older brother Reynold... this family died one after another as though it were cursed, leaving only Father and me... Charlotte stared blankly at the warm scene in the painting, but a chill rose inside her.
"...lotte, Charlotte?"
Raoul's concerned call reached her ears. Coming back to herself, she looked at her father and gave him an apologetic smile.
"The painting just made me a little emotional. If Uncle Leon hadn't helped tonight, I might have..."
"Say no more, Charlotte," the baron interrupted, his expression darkening. "All that matters is that you came back. Get a good rest tonight and don't think about anything. When you wake up tomorrow, it will all be behind you."
I hope so... Charlotte did indeed feel exhaustion washing over her. She said goodnight to Raoul and followed the maid upstairs toward her room.
Before entering the corridor, she glanced back. The baron still stood motionless in the entrance hall, looking up at the painting.
"I'm going to rest for a while. Go heat some water. I'll need it later."
As soon as she entered her room, Charlotte sent her personal maid away and locked the door. Only then did she truly breathe a sigh of relief, nearly collapsing to the floor.
Ever since she had awakened after transmigrating, the succession of events had kept her nerves taut and her mind on high alert. Only now, back at the residence and in her own private space, had that finally come to an end.
Surveying the bedroom, which was not particularly large but was warmly furnished, Charlotte's gaze passed over the curtained four-poster bed, the floor-to-ceiling windows leading to the balcony, and the wardrobe occupying an entire wall. It stopped on the dressing table by the window, with its enormous oval mirror.
With hesitant steps, she approached the table and sat on the cushioned round stool. Her eyes level with the mirror, she studied the figure reflected in the flickering lamplight.
The person in the mirror had long reddish-brown hair. Some strands had been woven into loose braids around the back of her head, while the rest fell naturally over her shoulders in distinct layers. Her slightly widened eyes were a clear blue with a hint of green. She had thick brows, a straight nose, well-defined lips of a pale shade, and cool, fair skin. Her facial contours retained a young girl's softness, and her neck and shoulders formed long, elegant lines. Her bloodstained linen dress outlined a slender but not frail figure.
She slowly raised her right hand and pressed her long index finger against the tip of her nose. The person in the mirror did exactly the same. Once again, she felt the delicate, slightly cool sensation she had experienced when she first awoke in this world.
So I really have become a woman... The thought she had kept buried, with no time to examine it amid one upheaval after another, surfaced at last. Charlotte's face, both soft and finely handsome, crumpled. Her nose stung, and even her vision began to blur.
Why am I about to cry? Isn't this body a little too fragile? I used to be a man...
She sniffed hard and forcibly reined in her emotions, then rose from the dressing table and paced beside the floor-to-ceiling windows, suppressing her dejection with the other thoughts that kept welling up.
First, I need to tie up the loose ends from tonight. Baron Sauron should be able to handle the aftermath of Etienne Marceau's death without getting me implicated... then I need to recover Charlotte Sauron's lost memories and find out exactly what happened to this body before I woke up... finally, there's the truth behind my transmigration, and finding clues that might lead me home... As one thought followed another, Charlotte's steps grew slower, until she finally stopped in front of the window.
Looking at the Crimson Moon hanging high in the sky, so utterly unlike Earth's moon, she slowly sighed.
Suddenly, a translucent face appeared outside the window, almost perfectly overlapping the outline of Charlotte's face reflected in the glass. It stared fixedly at her.
Who is that? She instinctively took a step back, then noticed that the face's size had changed as well.
That was a reflection from inside the room!
Charlotte's blood all but froze. She whipped around to look behind her.