Deep into the night, past midnight, a black two-wheeled Carriage departed Greathill for Longbourne Street.
Diane, as if wanting to be swallowed by the darkness, meticulously fastened her black cloak and stepped out of the Carriage. The back alleys of the slums, where even the moonlight was obscured by clouds, were eerily silent.
As if having heard the sound of the Carriage, the door opened from the inside even before she could knock. Diane quietly entered, and the door was firmly shut, obscuring the light that had been leaking from the window.
As if a storm was about to rage in from the sea, the old wooden door and window frames rattled loudly in the wind. It was a bleak night.
Diane stepped inside and wrinkled her nose, blocking it with her hand. The strong smell of vinegar stung her lungs.
"Trying to shine these things up a bit. Here, this way."
The man cleared away the shoddy jewels and vinegar dishes that had come in as stolen goods, and pointed to a chair with his chin.
"The goods?"
"Always so impatient."
The man grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth, went behind the workbench, and brought out a small bundle.
"Here."
The man unwrapped the bundle and laid the contents on the table. Because it was glass, which was easily scratched, it had to be handled more carefully than the real thing.
"Well? Are you satisfied?"
The man smirked slyly, the long scar near his eye twitching. The corners of Diane's lips also lifted as she looked at the replicas.
Diane picked up the replicated sapphire ring with her gloved hand and held it up to the light. It was quite elaborate, better than expected.
With this level of quality, even a princess who had grown up seeing and touching precious jewels would have difficulty distinguishing them.
She had no doubt that she would become the owner of these.
The thought of it was as painful and bitter as if a sharp knife were slicing through her heart. It was all because of Olivia Blanchett, that foolish bastard.
The thought of that wretched thing taking the blame for all these misdeeds made her feel a little better.
"Finish this one within two days as well."
Without any words of praise, Diane gathered the items and lifted the bag she had placed on her lap.
At that moment, a thud sounded. Startled, Diane dropped the bag. The candle flame inside the glass cover flickered wildly in the wind that rushed in through the crack in the door.
In the flickering light, the shadows of the two people swayed like ghosts. In an instant, the wind stopped, and the surroundings became eerily silent.
"What was that sound just now?"
Diane's voice trembled slightly.
"Probably just the old woman falling out of bed again. Don't mind it."
The man grinned and placed the bag Diane had dropped on the floor back on the table as if it were nothing.
Just as he was about to open the silver buckle and open the bag, another thud sounded from the back of the house. This time, it was louder.
"Why is this old woman acting like this today?"
The man scratched his thigh and said nonchalantly.
"That sound isn't coming from upstairs."
Diane, her nerves on edge, snapped irritably.
Even the sound of the rattling window, as if it were about to fall off, froze Diane's heart. She felt strangely anxious and uneasy today.
"On days like this, the back door always causes trouble. I'd be lucky if the rotten door didn't fly off."
The man chuckled nonchalantly and reached into the bag. Diane grabbed the man's wrist and stopped him.
"Go check it out."
"Come on. I told you it's nothing."
"What if it's the police?"
Diane glared at the man. The man looked down at the woman, who was being a nuisance out of fear, and sniffed.
"Come on, the black dogs never come here."
The man was under the protection of the police.
The reason he could safely operate in Longbourne Street, where petty thieves gathered, without ever serving time in the infamous Basta Prison, was solely due to the enormous bribes he paid.
So, it couldn't be the police.
"Go see for yourself."
Diane was adamant.
Damn it, the man cursed and moved with a disgruntled step.
Diane's heart began to beat irregularly. She had a good sense. That sensitive sense was sounding an alarm. It was dangerous.
Diane, clutching the bag tightly to her chest with the buckle securely fastened, held her breath, watching the man's back as he walked into the darkness. She stood up, ready to run away at any moment.
The man, scratching his stomach, stopped in front of the stairs leading upstairs. The sound of his wife's snoring faintly reached his ears.
'She's sleeping soundly. And here I am, working until this hour.'
He wanted to get the job done quickly and go to bed.
The man ran his finger under his nose and turned to grab the doorknob of the kitchen door next to the staircase.
As he slowly turned the knob, the rusty hinges made a strange creaking sound. The man opened the door and held up the lamp in his hand, illuminating the darkness.
The sink, the old cupboards, the display case, and the cast iron stove. The table, standing alone in the center, appeared and disappeared in the light.
It's nothing. Tsk. The man clicked his tongue.
As he expected, the dilapidated back door behind the table was only shaking in the strong wind. It was an escape door, roughly made and installed for emergencies.
"There's not a single ant here."
He raised his voice sarcastically and turned to leave the kitchen.
Bang! With a loud noise, the back door fell forward in an instant. Horrified, the man quickly turned around. Several lights rushed in, and voices shouted.
"Don't move!"
Silver stars on black peaked caps gleamed in the darkness.
Damn it. It was the Rondos police.
"You stupid bitch. You brought the black dogs!"
The man, his face pale, threw the lamp at the police with all his might.
Clang. The oil lamp shattered on the table, instantly engulfing the tablecloth and fiercely blazing. The quiet house turned into chaos in an instant.
The man ran frantically towards the stairs, shouting.
"Run!"
Diane was no longer there.
She had been frozen in place, her face pale, but the moment she heard the loud noise of the door falling, she kicked the chair and started running towards the front door.
I can't get caught here.
Her breath was constricted. Everything was going wrong.
Diane, clutching the bag containing the jewels, unlocked the door with trembling hands. She heard the man's shout to run from behind. The double and triple latches would not open easily.
Please!
Her breathing became rapid. Sweat trickled down her spine.
Please. Open quickly.
She barely managed to open the last lock and burst out of the door.
A strong wind blew like a whirlwind. She instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times to run to the Carriage, Diane's heart dropped.
"!"
No way.
Under the black night sky, a red light was visible. The man, leaning loosely against the Carriage, took a deep drag of his cigar and slowly exhaled. The smoke scattering into the air seemed like a dream.
Why.
Why are you here……
Diane felt a chill. Her jaw chattered.
She wished that the fact that this man was here was a nightmare. It had to be. But.
Johann Leopold.
Unbelievably, the man was in front of her.
Diane's legs gave way, and she collapsed on the spot. The hem of the long coat the man was wearing fluttered in the fierce wind. The man, detaching himself from the Carriage, was approaching with a languid gait.
Get a grip. Diane. It's not over yet.
"……D, Duke."
Even in this desperate situation, she racked her brain to survive. It was instinct.
***
Diane opened her eyes at the sudden coldness that jolted her awake. She had lost consciousness after being slapped across the cheek during the interrogation.
How long had it been since she was brought here?
In the darkness, a small light on the table flickered. As her vision gradually cleared, Diane's fear became even more certain.
It's not a dream.
She was still sitting in the chair, handcuffed, and water was dripping from her head, which had been doused with cold water. She felt faint with despair.
The only thing that had changed was that Yohan, that man, had come.
Yohan pulled up a chair and sat opposite Diane. He crossed his legs and put a cigar in his mouth. The end of the cigar glowed red between his black gloves. He was perfect as always.
On the other hand, Diane's appearance was a mess.
Her wet hair was unattractively plastered to her forehead and cheeks, and her eyes were blackened by smeared mascara. Her cheek was swollen from the slap, and her lips were split from being hit. She looked worse than a drowned rat.
Diane was ashamed, but she did not avert her gaze. Her head was throbbing, but she focused her mind. She knew this was her last chance.
"D, Duke……."
Her lips were torn, and she felt a stinging pain every time she made a sound. Diane put on a painful expression and looked as pitiful as someone who had been brutally tortured. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Despite Diane's call, the gaze that stared at her was indifferent.
"It wasn't me. Actually…… actually, ugh."
Pain flared in her swollen cheek. Her mouth, which had not had a sip of water, was dry and cracked, and it stung.
"Du……."
Her emotions overwhelmed, and she gasped for breath.
"Duchess……."
With every pant, the scent of cigars and the damp, musty smell of the underground interrogation room mixed and flowed into her nose.
"I was being threatened."
She shed the tears she had been holding back for this moment. Tears fell incessantly on the back of her handcuffed hands.
"I'm, I'm sorry. Duke."
Diane lowered her head and trembled slightly.
Huff, the pungent scent of cigars wafted over. Diane, curious about Yohan's expression, slowly raised her face. Their eyes met. At that moment, she felt a chill at his gaze. A cold sneer flowed in his deep gray eyes.
Yohan stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He loosened his tie with a neat motion and unbuttoned the top button.
"Do you want to get out of here alive?"
The low murmur that spilled out echoed in the interrogation room. Diane grimaced.
