Chapter 12
—A week later.
Dressed in mourning black, Josée sat in a carriage, the brothel now in the hands of the courtesans. Today, she was attending Frédéric’s funeral.
But her mind was fixed on a single thought:
*Today, I’m going to settle the decapitation case. Once and for all.*
It all began the day they left the human trafficking ring’s hideout.
Back then, Bernard had questioned Josée and Serge, trying to understand why they’d taken such drastic action.
“I don’t want to believe it, but... the traffickers said so, didn’t they?”
“Even some of the representatives have said similar things,” Serge replied calmly. “It’s common knowledge that many officers are on the take—not just from traffickers.”
Bernard groaned and buried his head in his hands.
Watching him, Josée couldn’t help but think that Serge was an idealist—a man who clung to humanity’s goodness, despite being a politician. Bernard, on the other hand, struck her as a bird in a gilded cage—a detective in name, but one too fragile for the real world. Both were born into noble families.
*Tranlene must be such a peaceful country—for men,* Josée thought, suppressing a bitter laugh.
*Back in my homeland, fratricide happened all the time inside the palace. And these men act like this is the end of the world?*
That thought triggered something. A connection clicked into place in her mind.
“Wait... Fratricide...?”
“What is it?” Serge asked.
Josée looked up.
“That organization said all four spies bought corpses from the traffickers, right?”
“That’s true.”
“Do you know why a spy would bother faking their own death?”
“...Huh?” Serge tilted his head, clearly struggling to come up with an answer.
Josée leaned in slightly.
“In other words, they acquired death. A way to disappear.”
“Ah... I see. If they’re dead, they’re officially nonexistent. They’d be free to move anywhere in the country, unnoticed...”
As he spoke, the color drained from Serge’s face.
“Ah!”
“Exactly. They’ve become untouchable. Glorified... living ghosts.”
“So then... this is a promotion for a spy...?”
Bernard cut in sharply.
“Hey! That’s enough in front of the representative. This is already a sensitive matter, and now the police are investigating. The last thing we need is some amateur detective spilling everything.”
Josée gave him a sideways glance and smirked.
“How arrogant. Just afraid you’ll be exposed as incompetent, aren’t you?”
“Guh...” Bernard flinched. “You hit the mark, damn it. That’s exactly why we need to catch them fast. We need to make an example—for the other spies still in hiding.”
“Then stop talking and focus. First, we need to catch Frédéric-sama.”
The conversation stalled for a moment—until Serge spoke up.
“According to tradition, after the funeral, the priest issues a certification, and then the death certificate is filed. Once that’s done, their plan moves forward. We have to stop it before then.”
“Right,” Bernard nodded.
“Who files Representative Fédor’s death certificate?” Josée asked.
“His family—his wife, most likely.”
“Then we need to persuade her not to file it.”
But Josée shook her head.
“This replica gold ring? She had it made. That means she’s likely in on the plan to turn her husband into a ghost.”
“...”
“If we act carelessly and tip her off, they’ll have time to cover their tracks. That would be a mistake. But... I have an idea.”
Bernard raised an eyebrow. “An idea?”
“Call it a woman’s intuition. If Frédéric-sama is still in the country, there’s one place he’d visit before he flees. Bernard, get the traffickers to tell you where and how they decapitated the corpse. If I’m right, that’s where Frédéric-sama will be. That place must hold his most cherished memory.”
“What kind of nonsense is that? We can’t mobilize the police on a woman’s hunch...”
Bernard’s grumbling was cut short by Serge’s sharp tone.
“Why not use every tool at our disposal? Dismissing a woman’s intuition or clinging to the image of police dignity is exactly why we’re falling behind. Honestly, when the organization itself is rotten with bribes, there’s no dignity left to protect. If there’s even a hint of suspicion, we have to investigate.”
Bernard sighed in defeat.
“...Fine. But no reckless moves. I’ll get the traffickers to reveal where they found the corpse before the funeral. In the meantime, we have to stop the death certificate from being filed.”
“Want me to handle the wife?” Josée offered.
Bernard gave her a skeptical look.
“...You think you can?”
Josée smirked.
“Leave it to me.”
And so, she wore the ring.
The fake gold ring she had bought that day.
“Today is our last chance. Most likely... Frédéric-sama will stay in the country until the death certificate is filed.”
The church in Serpet—Frédéric’s base of power—came into view.
Just before reaching it, she spotted a group of mourners gathered outside. She told the coachman to stop and slipped quietly into the crowd.
The unfamiliar young woman drew a few curious, even suspicious, glances.
Still, Josée asked calmly, “I’d like to pay my respects to Lady Suzune.”
A kindly old woman in mourning replied, “She’s likely still at the mansion.”
Josée nodded, returned to her carriage, and ordered the driver to head straight for the Fédor estate.