[Isekai Lady Cozy Mystery] Episode 8: The Author Lady's Rural Escape Mystery Diary ~I was told 'Marry me,' but I'm starting a detective agency in my hideout~

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36

"Huh? Is this really the blue bird?"

Editor-in-Chief Edmond's voice echoed through the cafe. He is stout and has a large build, so his voice is loud. Thanks to it echoing quite a bit, the chirping of the blue bird (?) was drowned out.

The bird in question is in the cage. Its feathers are a dull brown, and its chirping is ordinary. It is certainly a little cute, but it is different from the bird I saw for a moment earlier.

Moreover, this bird is clumsy. It often trips even inside the cage. I can imagine it had trouble finding food. When Manager Collette gave it water, grains, and greens, it ate them voraciously. It probably had a hard time finding food.

It is true that some feathers looked blue depending on the light, but it scattered those feathers after crashing into the birdcage. After all, no matter how I look at it, it doesn't look like a blue bird. When Eme checked the cafe's wild bird guidebook, it turned out to be a common species, and everyone's shoulders slumped. It seems the blue bird we saw earlier was a mistake. Come to think of it, everyone except Editor-in-Chief Edmond was in a state of tension because there had been an incident in the village. It is no wonder that misseeing and mishearing occurred.

For now, it was decided that we would take care of this clumsy bird at the cafe for a while. With this clumsiness, it would likely be unhappy if it returned to the wild. Since we caught it on our own, we are definitely responsible.

After that, a disappointed mood flowed through the cafe, but the bird's chirping also echoed, and Manager Collette served coffee and cookies to everyone, and everyone's smiles returned.

After a while, Chris and Editor-in-Chief Edmond returned to the hotel, saying they had work to do. At the same time, Miss Margaret, who was at the counter seat, let out a bitter voice.

"I wonder if there was no blue bird after all?"

Miss Margaret was the one most obsessed with the blue bird. She was so disappointed that the corners of her eyes were blurred with tears. It seems she was more disappointed than I imagined.

"I know. It's frustrating, isn't it?"

Paula also sat next to Miss Margaret and comforted her. Eme and the old man were giving greens to the bird in question, and they were surprisingly enjoying it, though.

I also sat next to Miss Margaret and said, "That's a shame," just in case. I couldn't think of any words beyond that.

"Love might be the same. Even if it looks like a blue bird when you're longing for it, it might look like a plain wild bird once you actually start it, right?"

Manager Collette laughed and said that from inside the counter. Paula and Miss Margaret, who had longed for love, seemed unable to say anything more.

"That's right. Love is most fun when you're longing for it. Because even if you date or get married, it will eventually become a plain daily life someday."

Eme also came to Miss Margaret's side and encouraged her.

The two widows have a different level of life experience. The love troubles of Miss Margaret and Paula might look like grains of rice to them. Today, Eme's golden hair and Manager Collette's stout figure both feel somewhat reliable.

That's right. Even if there are only plain wild birds in front of you, in the end, you are the one who makes every day enjoyable. Right, Lady Margaret?

The old butler also came to Lady Margaret's side. He is a veteran of life, too. Encouraged by him as well, the corners of Lady Margaret's mouth lifted slightly.

I was also smiling a little. I feel like the mystery of love is starting to unravel. It was a confusing kind of love, but perhaps it is more important to be happy and enjoy every day than to worry about who you fall in love with.

That's true. Even without a blue bird, maybe I'll try researching wild birds. Lady Anna seems to enjoy her work, too.

Lady Margaret stood up straight and approached the wild bird. She spoke to it while feeding it some greens.

Oh, you're surprisingly cute, aren't you? You're such a clumsy wild bird, but you're eating these greens so earnestly. Sorry for catching you without asking.
Pichi!

The wild bird probably didn't understand Lady Margaret's words, but it chirped happily. It must have been satisfied after getting its fill.

After that, we all tried to think of a name for the wild bird. While enjoying tea and cookies, we suggested names for the bird and decided on the one that was easiest to call.

The wild bird's name is Pichi. Lady Margaret suggested it because it was chirping 'pichi-pichi,' and everyone agreed without objection, so it was decided.

Now, Pichi. From today on, you will also be the mascot bird of our cafe!
Pichi!

Manager Colette's words shouldn't have been understood either, but Pichi chirped happily, and everyone's laughter echoed. A plain bird isn't so bad. Right now, neither my investigation nor my work is progressing, but I felt the tension leave my shoulders.

37

By the time we finished playing with Pichi at the cafe, it was already evening. Lady Margaret said she was going home, so I saw her off to her hotel.

Lady Margaret had fully recovered, so I wasn't worried about that, but the hotel was still on my mind.

I can't sneak into the hotel anymore, but I'm concerned about the state of Manager Ghislain and Head Chef Cedric.

That's why you shouldn't make such mistakes! I told you to do your job seriously!

I entered the hotel and secretly observed the counter from the lobby, but Manager Ghislain looked truly irritable. He was taking his anger out on the female staff at the counter and yelling, but he didn't seem to notice that I was in the lobby.

He is even more irritated than when he was bullying Paula. This is likely influenced by the fact that the hotel was bought by Chris and he was fired. Manager Ghislain's face is bright red. It looks like the veins in his temples might burst.

I was drinking coffee I ordered at the lobby lounge, but I wonder what Manager Ghislain thinks of Sybil's death. I sigh. It's not certain that Manager Ghislain is the culprit, but he seems to only think about himself. According to Paula, who used to work at the counter, there were many pointless tasks aimed solely at avoiding customer complaints. Paula also testified that 'the manager just doesn't want to take responsibility,' and judging by those shouts, that possibility is very high.

Currently, the case looks like a suicide with Sybil as the culprit, but did Manager Ghislain, with his tendency to shirk responsibility, write the plot for this outcome?

It's unclear if he's the perpetrator, but he's pinning everything on Sybil. Doesn't that sound exactly like something Manager Ghislain would think of?

Regardless of whether he's the perpetrator, there's a high possibility he's involved in Sybil's murder, or perhaps Dr. Tristan's murder.

There's also a high possibility that Sybil was truly involved in Dr. Tristan's murder. She did have a sense of guilt. The letter that looked like a suicide note might have been genuine as well. On the other hand, the culprit of this incident doesn't seem to have any guilt at all. That's what makes me feel uneasy, and I hurriedly swallow my coffee, but then Chris appears.

“Miss Anna, what are you doing?”
“Just thinking about whether Manager Ghislain might be the culprit.”

For some reason, Chris purses his lips and sits down in front of me. He orders a coffee as well, and loosens his tie, saying his work for the day is done.

“Actually, I came down thinking I’d have dinner at the restaurant here, but it’s closed. Apparently, since Chef Tristan was fired, they’re all furious.”

Chris says this as a matter of fact. He has a truly nasty look in his eyes. The nickname 'young villainous executive' is certainly accurate.

“Serves them right. They messed with you, Miss Anna, so this is pretty mild, don't you think?”

Chris sits with his legs crossed, looking very smug, but I just sigh. Isn't this entirely a personal grudge?

“That’s fine, but what about the case? Who is the culprit in the end?”
“Miss Anna, lower your voice. It wouldn't be strange if someone were listening.”

I was startled. The lounge is deserted right now, but talking about the case here is a bad idea.

“Come to my room.”
“That’s true.”

For a moment, I wondered if it was okay to go into Chris's room, but I don't want to take the risk of talking about the culprit in the lounge. I'll be leaving soon anyway.

So, we walk to the hotel's South Wing and head to Chris's room. Dr. Tristan's room was nearby, but it seems it has been returned to a regular room under the surveillance of the White Guard. It's true that many guests are uncomfortable with rooms where someone has died, but it seems it's already being offered to tourists as usual.

Chris's room, like Dr. Tristan's, is spacious and has a good view. He didn't show me his bedroom or the room he uses for work, but he guided me to a small room where he usually has meetings with his subordinates.

It was a small room with only a sofa and a table. Chris's work documents and books were piled up on the table.

“Honestly, it’s cleaner than the desk in my study.”
“Is that so? Well, let’s quickly decide on our future investigation strategy.”
“Are you enjoying this more than me, somehow?”
“It’s fine, isn't it? I’m not desecrating the deaths of Tristan or Sybil. It’s just that even in a situation like this, it’s better to enjoy it as much as possible.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s right.”

Here, Chris takes out my debut work, 'The Elegant Mystery Affairs of the Detective Count.' It has sticky notes and bookmarks in it, and the edges are worn black. It seems he’s actually read it properly, which makes me want to look down.

“Miss Anna, in this novel, the culprit makes a blunder at the party at the end. That’s where the evidence comes out.”
“Yes, using a party venue for the climax isn't rare in orthodox mystery novels.”
“Then let’s do this. We’ll throw a party too.”

Chris was smiling even more. He had a look on his face like he was looking forward to eating a delicious steak.

"We're going to hold a party to commemorate the inauguration of the new manager. The new manager is you. Lady Anna."
"Wait, me?"

They had been discussing that topic at the cafe, but Chris seemed serious. My eyes must have been wide with shock. In the first place, is it even possible to be a manager in our country, where men are superior to women?

"That's the point. Won't Ghislain or Cedric get angry that a woman is doing it and let something slip?"
"I wonder."

I am a writer of authentic mystery novels. I wasn't sure if the culprit would let something slip out of anger, but now that not a single piece of evidence for the incident has been found, is it worth going along with this plan?

In any case, this countryside is a lawless zone. Fair play is meaningless. In authentic mystery novels, there is a rule of fair play in puzzle-solving, which involves providing information to the reader. For example, things like 'the victim was actually the culprit' or 'the culprit was a fairy who killed people with special abilities' were said to be unkind to the reader and not fair play. In particular, it is taboo to make the method of murder fantasy-like, and I am told to write proper scientific and objective tricks.

In a lawless countryside, sticking to the fair play expected of an authentic mystery writer might mean I can't write a beautiful ending. Anyway, this incident is the same as the one in Tarant Village. There were no authentic mystery elements to begin with. If that's the case, maybe I should write the plot for this incident freely as well. There's no guarantee it will go the way I want, but I'm done being a good girl. Let's get serious.

"That's right. If there's no evidence, making them let something slip is the best way. I'm in on that plan."
"Great!"

Chris made a victory pose and looked truly happy. I started to feel happy too. I feel like I've found a blue bird.

38

Several days passed without any progress in the case. As the autumn leaves in the village forest deepened and fallen leaves piled up, I was also busy creating a plot for a romance novel. Editor-in-Chief Edmond's criticism was relentless, and my stress was at its peak. Day and night, while tearing at my hair, the day of the decisive battle arrived just as I managed to finish the plot for the romance novel.

It's a party. A party to unveil the new management of that hotel. It is scheduled to take place from evening until night. As planned with Chris, will the culprit let something slip?

"What do you think, Eme? Do you think they'll let something slip?"

In the hotel's waiting room, I am having Eme do my hair and makeup. Originally, Eme also supervised the coordination of today's party clothes, shoes, and accessories. I decided to leave my hair and makeup to her as well.

A pink frilly dress and red shoes with heels. I put together the accessories from the nouveau-riche style ones I originally owned, but unexpectedly, it changed me into a lady look that seemed strong, and Eme made my makeup look more assertive as well.

"Wow, is my makeup a bit too heavy?"
"It's fine, Eme. Today is about making the culprit let something slip, so I need to be assertive."
"I see, I understand."

Eme said that, applied mascara to my eyelashes, and finally dusted powder over my entire face, finishing the makeup.

"However, your hair quality is a bit weak. You're the type to get stressed, aren't you?"
"That's right. It's annoying. I'm doing something I'm not good at for work, so I'm accumulating stress."
"That's interesting. Well then, I'll set it to look voluminous and fluffy."
"Please do."

Eme skillfully set my hair and finally put on my tacky nouveau-riche necklace. Inside the accessory box was the ring I wore while disguised with Chris, but I probably won't need to wear it today. Chris is still wearing a ring on the ring finger of his left hand, but his intentions are a mystery.

"But Lady Anna. You can't keep being the manager forever, right?"
"That's true. Well, I have a promise with Chris that it's only temporary."

I check my face in the mirror. I've transformed into a look with a nicely high combat power, but when the topic turned to Chris, Eme was laughing. She's probably laughing because she can use it as gossip. The smile in her sleazy eyes was by no means elegant.

"Lady Anna, wouldn't it be good if you married Chris?"
"Wait, are we really talking about that right now?"
"You don't dislike him, do you?"
"I suppose not."

I was clearly being teased, and my face in the mirror was bright red. I almost choked a little and drank some water from my glass.

"It's fine, isn't it? Marrying a man you don't dislike, rather than the man you love, is the secret to a long-lasting marriage. If you marry the man you love, you'll get annoyed by the trivial things in daily life. Like how he eats, or his choice of words."
"Is it really like that?"
"The drop-off is just too harsh."
"Conversely, if you marry a man you don't dislike, even if he has annoying traits, you just think, 'that's how he is.' And you even feel a flutter in your heart just by seeing a slightly good side of him."
"Do you think so?"
"I do. Married life isn't a romance novel, it's reality."

As expected of Eme, a veteran of life. She doesn't say anything sweet at all, but I was troubled because an image of married life with Chris popped into my head.

Originally, my impression of Chris, a wicked businessman with a nasty personality, was the worst. However, by that same token, it's a fact that my favorability toward him increases whenever he shows even slightly decent behavior. Besides, while being together through various incidents, I've grown accustomed to daily life with him. Being with Chris like this isn't unpleasant. In fact, it's even a little fun.

If I've realized such a fact, doesn't it seem like I'm already in love with Chris?

"Is this love?"

With zero romantic aptitude, I have no idea and end up asking Eme.

"Lady Anna, you're a mystery writer, aren't you? Why don't you try solving that mystery yourself?"
"Do you think so?"
"Besides, there's no way I could know Lady Anna's feelings. You'll have to deduce that yourself."

Eme's words are logical every time. Besides, if I were to ask for romantic advice like this, the rumors would spread in an instant and reach Chris's ears. I'll stop asking Eme for advice at this point.

It's just about time for the party to start. A noisy buzz could be heard from the venue. First, after the greetings from Chris's management team, there will also be my greeting as the new manager of this hotel.

"Well then, Eme. I'm going now."
"Yes. I'll be watching from the venue. Good luck."
"Yes."

I left the dressing room and waited behind the party venue. It seems Chris was also giving a greeting on stage, and the cheers of young women were echoing.

"I don't get it. Even though he has such a bad personality."

A mutter that slipped out unintentionally. Doesn't it sound like I'm jealous? I shook my head vigorously, drank some water, finished preparing to go up on stage, and the time had come.

The party venue is larger than I imagined. As far as I could see from the stage, I couldn't confirm the presence of the three suspects—Rodolphe, Cedric, and Ghislain—but when I greeted them as the new manager, the venue was in an uproar. Especially the dressed-up nobles who were making a racket.

"A manager, despite being a woman?"
"That person is a woman, right?"
"Wasn't that woman a writer?"
"What is this?"
"Didn't she spread her legs for Chris?"

There were boos that were unbearable to listen to, but I continued my greeting calmly. Compared to the verbal abuse from the gentlemen of the literary salon, this is somewhat better.

Besides, I also spotted Ghislain in the corner of the venue. Ghislain was dressed up according to the party's dress code, but his face was bright red. He looked like a boiled octopus. He was saying something, too. From the movement of his lips, I could tell he was saying, "Despite being a woman." Oh, how awful; I've been subjected to this line thousands of times, so I've even memorized the lip movements.

And Rodolphe and Cedric are there too. Both of them were surrounded by women and didn't seem to mind it, but they were glaring at me on stage. This is suspicious. Did the plan Chris thought up actually go well?

In our country, the status of women is very low. It is not uncommon for women to be deceived and end up in prostitution. I hope that such a world will end, even if only a little. As a manager, I also want to do everything I can.

Although I concluded my greeting with those words, Ghislain's eyes turned even redder at the word 'prostitution.' This is suspicious. Did it remind him of Sybil?

I stepped down from the podium and mingled into the party venue to observe Ghislain further, but his face remained bright red. It looked like the vein in his temple was about to burst.

I was also being booed at the party, but I don't care anymore. I feel like Ghislain also let something slip. It's typical male chauvinism, after all. He must have treated Sybil terribly, too. I can imagine it.

Wait? Am I investigating out of personal grudge too?

I felt that way, but oh well. The countryside is a lawless zone anyway. I've already quit being a good girl. Why don't I challenge this with my own style of deduction?

39

I looked around the party venue, but there were only guests enjoying the drinks and food.

Not only Eme, but Manager Collette is also attending the party, but the two of them are munching on meat and enjoying gossip. It was a free-style standing party, but I started to feel a little embarrassed by their boorish behavior.

Young lady, that was a wonderful greeting!

Jiiya rushed to my side and praised me. After the boos flew around, my chest felt warm.

Anna, that was good. However, Manager Ghislain is the same as ever. Oh, he's the former manager, though.

Paula also came over. She is working as a server at the party venue today. When I heard about the situation behind the scenes from Paula, it seems that the new head chef is a person of character and has become well-liked at the workplace in no time. Thanks to that, the reputation of the former head chef, Cedric, has relatively worsened.

So, Head Chef Cedric is unexpectedly disliked, then.

Paula said that and went back to work.

After that, I was pestered by some nobles, but thanks to Jiiya, I managed to escape the trouble, and since I was there, I also did some sales for my publication. It was also because Editor-in-Chief Edmond, who had come to this venue, had been urging me.

Miss Anna, what are you doing? Huh? Sales!?

Miss Margaret is also attending this party. It seems she was invited by Eme and Manager Collette, but today she was in her neat lady version. Her pale yellow dress was fluttering, and her makeup was understated. Today, she had a neat atmosphere like a lily flower. On the other hand, I was showing off the difference in status with my typical nouveau riche look.

It's sales, for the time being.
You'd go that far? Or rather, aren't you supposed to be catching the culprit today?
Oh, I kind of forgot about that.
Oh, Miss Anna.

Miss Margaret, who laughed like that, looked happy. It seems she has already cut off her feelings for Chris, but Jiiya, who was with me, glanced at Chris. Chris was surrounded by young ladies.

Chris is wearing formal party attire. His hair is neatly styled, and he looks more polished than usual. Thanks to that, he is surrounded by young ladies, but Chris is in a foul mood.

"I have no interest in pampered noble young ladies. I like women who are nouveau riche, plump, and interesting, like Miss Anna."

The young ladies' faces froze. The area around Chris and the ladies went deathly silent.

"What is up with that, Lord Chris? In the end, doesn't that man just have terrible taste in women?"

Miss Margaret says, sipping her juice while looking dumbfounded.

Even if he is quite twisted, I don't know how to feel about being praised like that in front of everyone. It's unbearable. The words themselves are a parade of insults—nouveau riche, plump, interesting woman—but Chris's eyes are gentle, which is also embarrassing. Plus, the stares from the other young ladies are stinging.

That's why I don't like parties. I hate them even more than literary salons.

"E-excuse me, let me be alone for a moment."

It's unbearable. I push through the crowd at the party venue and head outside.

I felt relieved when I reached the back of the hotel, near the employee entrance. It's quiet here, with no one around.

Suddenly, I looked up and saw the moon. It's hidden by clouds, so it's not very bright, but I can see the stars. They are twinkling. It was a starry sky you can't see in the Royal Capital.

"The stars really are beautiful out here, aren't they?"
"Aren't they?"

I was surprised. I meant to talk to myself, but I got a reply. It's Chris. Why on earth is Chris here?

"The suspects aren't really slipping up, are they?"

Contrary to his words, Chris's voice sounded cheerful.

"What is it? I went through all the trouble of preparing such a grand stage for you."
"It just means things don't go according to the plot of a mystery novel so easily."
"How frustrating. But the culprit is Chef Cedric."
"What is your evidence for that?"
"Because he was glaring at Miss Anna while she was greeting people. No matter how you look at it, it's male chauvinism. I figured he had no qualms about buying Sybil or killing her."

It's a unique deduction, but if that's the logic, Ghislain would be more convincing.

"I wonder. And anyway, Chris, aren't you too close?"

When I realized it, I had been cornered against the wall by Chris again. He smells like woody perfume today, too.

"I win the bet. Cedric is the culprit."
"So, do you have any decisive evidence? Making deductions based on assumptions is just personal grudge, you know."
"This is the countryside. It's a lawless zone. Any deduction should be fine."

Chris moved even closer to me, to the point where I could even hear his breathing.

Even for someone with as low a romantic aptitude as me, this was my limit. Chris had proposed to me many times before, but it was often like a joke or just going along with the mood.

But it's different now. His gaze is intense, and his expression is serious. On top of that, being in a situation where I can even feel his breath is my limit.

"T-the latest model typewriter is mine!"

I said that and ran away. I resent my low romantic aptitude. If I were a mature woman, what would I do in a situation like this? I can't even imagine it.

40

What on earth does Chris like about me? It's a complete mystery.

I run from the back of the hotel toward the park further in. As expected, Chris didn't seem to be chasing me, but it's truly a mystery. A mystery that no matter how a serious mystery writer approaches it, it cannot be solved. By now, Chris's very existence is a mystery.

Perhaps it was because I was walking absentmindedly while thinking about such things. I almost lost my balance when I saw a figure in the park, and I hurriedly hid in the bushes.

The last time I came to this park was when Paula went crazy. There doesn't seem to be any such woman here today, but it's not a very comfortable place. I don't want to meet Chris. I wanted to go back to the hotel quickly, but a voice echoed from the figure.

"Honestly, Cedric and Rodolphe are both useless!"

I recognized that voice and gasped. It was Manager Ghislain's voice. I can't see well in the dark, but there's no mistaking that low, raspy voice.

What does he mean by saying Cedric and Rodolphe are useless?

They were strong suspects, so what does this mean?

I swallow involuntarily. My palms are starting to sweat. Could it be that I'm getting closer to solving the case?

I tense my nerves even further, not moving a muscle, and listen to the voice. The sound of the night wind echoes, but I focus all my attention on the figure!

"What do you mean useless? I'm Manager Ghislain, I made a fake autopsy report for Sybil for your sake. Please, I beg you, do not speak a word about the Sybil matter."

Is this Rodolphe's voice?

I don't remember Rodolphe's voice well, but judging by the content of the conversation, could there be any mistake?

It seems my deduction that Rodolphe was being threatened by someone and made a fake autopsy report was correct. It doesn't look like he was involved in the murder, but there are likely other crimes. I involuntarily pump my fist in my heart. I'm almost at the point of solving the case.

"Shut up! I'm in a bad mood! I never heard anything about some nouveau riche writer lady becoming the new manager! Just because she's a woman!"
"Now, now, Ghislain, I understand you're frustrated, but calm down!"

It was another new voice. It was Chef Cedric's voice, calming down the enraged Ghislain. There was no mistake. I recognized that slightly nasal tone.

I was grinning to myself. Manager Ghislain seemed to be in a terrible mood. It looked like Chris's plan was a huge success. I was glad I greeted everyone as the new manager at the party. It seemed to have flushed out the culprit.

"Enough, Ghislain! Cheer up. Sybil is dead. It's been decided that she took the fall for everything and died."

It was Cedric's voice. He was probably trying to soothe Ghislain, but this was practically a confession of their crimes.

Ghislain was likely the one who killed Professor Tristan. He probably feared that the professor was about to make the matter with Sybil public, and that their own crimes would be exposed in a chain reaction. Ghislain, Cedric, and Rodolphe were all good customers of Sybil's.

Though, the idea of dumping the body at my villa might have been Cedric or Rodolphe's. That way, they could frame me for it.

Sybil must have also vaguely realized that Professor Tristan was killed because of her, and that the culprit was one of her customers. It was certain that she had read my novel, which coincidentally exposed past crimes, and had written letters and notes out of a guilty conscience.

They used that, performed a fake autopsy, and made it look like a suicide. As a writer of authentic mysteries, it was a sloppy trick, but hey, why not? It was a wild, untamed truth fitting for a lawless countryside. I couldn't accept that all the main suspects were the culprits, but I truly realized that this was a mystery that couldn't be solved through fair play.

Although Ghislain was a typical man of our country, he was quite sexist. He didn't seem to accept that I had become the new manager and was in a very foul mood. Seeing him lash out at Cedric and Rodolphe and complain loudly was truly pathetic. At this rate, the culprits might even turn on each other. In fact, Rodolphe's voice was filled with considerable irritation.

It was gratifying that Chris's strategy had worked so well. With the grumpy Ghislain lashing out at his accomplices like this, it was as good as a confession.

How should I catch the culprits next? Should I call the White Guard while they're making such a scene?

Or should I call everyone in the village and catch them all together, like in Taranto Village?

"Now then, how shall I catch you?"

Judging by this, none of the three seemed to have any sense of guilt at all. They were very different from Professor Tristan and Sybil, who had committed the same crimes. They were even going so far as to pin the blame on Sybil. These culprits deserved no sympathy. I had to catch them as soon as possible!

"Huh? Don't you feel a presence coming from that bush over there?"

Oh no!

Rodolphe was coming toward me.

I have to run!

I thought that, but my legs tangled and I couldn't move. My tongue was tied, and I couldn't make a sound. The thought of three culprits approaching me turned my body to stone.

"Th-this one! It's that author lady!"
"What did you say!"
"Did she hear what we were talking about!?"

The culprits' voices echoed, and I realized I had been too slow to escape.

Even though I chased after the culprit in Tarant Village, for some reason, my body wouldn't move now. Unlike the incident in Tarant Village, there are three culprits!

"Unforgivable! Even for a woman!"

Along with Ghislain's voice, I was struck on the head. My vision went completely white, and my consciousness began to drift away.

As my consciousness faded, all I could think about was the latest model typewriter. The ringleader was Ghislain. He had the kind of violent nature that would make him the first to strike me. It wouldn't be strange at all if he killed Tristan-sensei or Sybil.

I won the bet with Chris. And yet, it seems I might not be able to get my hands on that latest model typewriter. Though, it might end up being offered at my grave.

Next time is here