Chapter 63
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Chapter 63
"Oh!"
Charlotte's eyes widened in astonishment. Standing in the middle of the stream was a boy of slight build and diminutive stature. He appeared to be in his early teens, with russet-colored, wiry hair and a face covered in freckles.
"You are... could you be...?"
Charlotte's lips trembled as the reality struck her—I had truly summoned a spirit. The freckled boy appeared utterly ordinary save for his melancholic expression and the impossible fact of his emergence from the silver stream. Had I not known he was a spirit I had called forth, I would never have suspected it. He looked like any other boy.
The boy stood half-submerged in the stream, gazing at Charlotte.
"So it was you. The one I could finally speak with."
The boy spoke with a gentle cadence. Charlotte, who had felt a moment of fear, soon found herself reassured by his youthful voice and manner of speech. Instead, she felt a profound sorrow. If her suspicions were correct, he was the son of Homang—one of the four porters who had been murdered.
"My elder brothers and father cannot come to this place, miss. They have fallen into such deep despair that they no longer wish to see this world again."
"Your father and brothers... then surely...?"
Charlotte replied with a note of regret. As if reading her thoughts, the boy nodded and introduced himself.
"Yes, that's right, miss. I am Jean Martin. The youngest son of the Martin Family."
He addressed Charlotte with the title "miss" in every response.
"I worked as a porter alongside my father and brothers. Or rather, until that final errand, I truly believed our family worked as porters."
Charlotte wondered if the final errand he mentioned was connected to Leopold. She asked Jean directly.
"Jean, I was able to summon you because I witnessed the traces of death you left behind. This final errand you just mentioned... is it connected to your death?"
"Yes, miss. That final errand led us to our deaths, and it is also the reason I met my end not as a porter, but as a criminal."
Jean answered readily. Yet in his eyes swirled a mixture of betrayal, sorrow, and shame.
"Through that errand, I discovered that my older brothers and father hadn't been working as porters all this time—they had been committing thefts using methods that were fashionable in London. Moreover, I learned that even my only sister had been helping Father's plan, working as a day laborer maid drifting between estates."
Charlotte pressed further.
"But... but that final errand wasn't simply about stealing artwork from the estate, was it? That's why that errand led to your death, Jean?"
At Charlotte's question, Jean's face contorted as if recalling a painful memory. Seeing this, Charlotte apologized.
"I'm... I'm sorry. This must be difficult for you to discuss, but I found myself growing impatient without meaning to..."
The silvery stream that had been flowing swiftly began to slow. The forest, as if accepting night's invitation, was losing the vitality of daylight and gradually filling with the presence of spirits. Charlotte continued.
"It involves someone I love, Jean. That's why I couldn't ignore the traces of death you left behind. So please, can you tell me what your final errand was, and who it was that killed you?"
"Oh, Miss... That final errand was different from the usual ones. Very different indeed. It was something far worse and more serious than theft."
Jean responded to Charlotte with an expression as if he had made a decision.
"That day, we didn't steal artwork from the estate—we stole a noble gentleman. My sister, who was disguised as a maid and hiding, poisoned his food, and then my father and older brothers carried him away."
Jean buried his face in his hands, thinking of what he and his family had done.
"I truly knew nothing about it. After I brought items down from the Gallery the first time, my sister, who had mixed back in among the maids from being a porter, opened the lift connected to the backyard. That's when I only saw my older brother and father entering the estate again."
Charlotte's eyes widened. Jean Martin's explanation aligned perfectly with Leopold's conjecture. Jean continued in rapid tones.
"...Going to the Gallery was merely a deception to find a pretext for parking the carriage in the backyard. My older brother and father's true purpose was kidnapping. I remained in the carriage without knowing what was happening, but only when I saw my older brother and father loading the deeply sleeping noble gentleman into the carriage did I learn the truth."
"If he was a noble-looking gentleman, then he must be..."
When Charlotte couldn't finish her sentence, Jean began speaking again with a sorrowful expression.
"Earlier I said that day wasn't when we stole artwork, didn't I? Perhaps I should correct myself. He was more beautiful than any artwork could ever be. Days later, I learned that he was the Prince of Holland, who had been staying in England in disguise. All of London was abuzz with the news."
As Charlotte listened to Jean's words, she exhaled deeply. The truth felt within reach.
"I'm truly sorry, Miss. Is the person you love perhaps... him?"
Seeing Charlotte's heaving chest, Jean asked with an apologetic expression. Charlotte nodded slowly.
"And then? Where did you take him after that? He's still alive, isn't he? No, Jean, tell me. What possible reason could Homann Martin and your brothers have had for doing such a thing?"
Charlotte leaned closer to Jean, her voice urgent and desperate. Yet Jean shook his head, his expression far more weary and sorrowful than before.
"Unfortunately... I don't know, Miss. After Father brought me and my other brothers home, he took that noble gentleman elsewhere. He likely went to whoever had commissioned this task from us."
Jean bowed his head deeply, as if ashamed to even meet Charlotte's eyes.
"Whoever commissioned the task?"
"Yes, Miss."
Jean continued in a somber voice.
"One late night, half-asleep, I sensed someone visiting Father. Our home was dark—we spared candles and oil—but outside the window, moonlight shone brightly. That's when I saw a carriage drawn by two horses standing beyond the window. It was an elegant carriage, the kind one might expect to see at the very estate where we had abducted that noble gentleman."
Jean spoke with difficulty, retracing the memories of that final night of his life.
"Then I heard a great shout from downstairs. Startled, I rushed down and found my father collapsed in the narrow hallway. My two older brothers, who had also heard the commotion and come down, lay bleeding in the corridor as well."
Jean Martin began to tremble slightly, as if that scene were still vivid before his eyes.
"And then I felt a presence behind me. 'Four porters,' that's what the voice said—low and rough. And that was all, Miss. That's how I met my death."
Jean Martin could say nothing more, his voice breaking with anguish. Charlotte, witnessing his body quiver like an aspen leaf, found herself equally unable to speak. Between them, the sound of the silver stream flowing grew louder.
After a moment, Charlotte spoke quietly.
"Jean, I'm truly sorry for what happened to you and your family. Especially for you, who knew nothing of what was occurring."
Tears glistened in Charlotte's eyes. Though she had not obtained a decisive clue about Leopold's whereabouts, she felt profound sorrow for Jean Martin's death.
"Is there anything I can do for Jean?"
"Miss..."
Jean gazed at Charlotte with a moved expression, despite the fact that because of him and his family, she could not find the person she loved. He spoke slowly.
"I never saw the face of the one who harmed me and my family, but in that moment of death, I felt a heavy thread of sin woven between myself and that person. That's why, as I was dying, I was able to leave behind a trace of death carrying my final memory for that person... Yes, the phantom sound you experienced the night I died, Miss."
Charlotte nodded. The traces of death were vivid, yet they seemed to fade with each passing day. Since that Ball, Charlotte had encountered Harrison several times, but she could no longer hear the screams or smell the blood.
Jean Martin spoke.
"Miss, since you witnessed the traces I left behind on the day I died, I believe you know who the murderer is. So my request is this... Miss, please protect my sister from him?"
Jean Martin's expression turned pleading.
"As I told you, my sister was also involved in this affair. So I fear the murderer might discover her. 'Four porters'—those were his words. If he ever learns of the existence of a 'fifth porter,' my sister will no longer be safe. That much is certain."
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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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