Chapter 6
Josée rushed over to calm the furious Frédéric.
“Frédéric-sama... what happened?”
“What happened? Those courtesans—those thieves—stole from me!”
“I... I’m not quite following. Why don’t we step aside and go over what happened?”
“You don’t believe me? I’m telling you to call the police!”
His voice rising, Frédéric suddenly grabbed Josée by the collar in his rage. But before she could react, Serge stepped in like a shadow, grabbing Frédéric’s arm and twisting it downward with practiced ease.
“Guh—!”
“A representative raising his hand to a woman? Absolutely disgraceful... Don’t tarnish the title of 'representative' with behavior like this.”
Josée quietly stepped back, her fingers brushing against something on the ground—a button, torn from her dress. The fine lace had split at the seams, threads dangling, exposing more of her décolletage than she cared for. She sighed, glancing down with a frown.
“Ah... my new dress.”
After confirming Josée wasn’t hurt, Serge pushed Frédéric back. Scowling, Frédéric barked:
“One of those three stole my gold ring!”
The room fell silent.
“This is theft! A crime! Got that? Get the carriage driver—no one leaves! You're all witnesses!”
A collective groan rippled through the room. Mathieu—the merchant guildmaster—watched the scene unfold with a weary shake of his head.
“This is exactly why I can’t stand nobles...”
Josée turned and headed upstairs, where the courtesans waited with anxious expressions.
“Okay—what in the world happened?” she asked. “Tell me everything.”
“Josée... Are you going to search the room too? Where’s Frédéric-sama?”
“He’s calling for the police.”
Lisette, the most seasoned among them, scoffed.
“He probably just dropped the thing. Honestly, what’s with him? He’s usually so calm, no matter what happens.”
Anaïs piped up next.
“It was his wedding ring. Engraved with the date he married his wife. Maybe it’s important—urgent, even?”
“Maybe so, but calling the police over something like this? They’re not going to be happy about it.”
“He’s a noble and a representative. He’ll blow this way out of proportion.”
A voice called up from downstairs.
“Hey, ladies! Get down here already!”
“Ugh, forget that idiot Frédéric,” Josée muttered. “Let’s go wash out the taste of this mess with champagne.”
The four women exchanged exasperated glances and descended the stairs.
Mathieu was already handing out drinks like water.
“Crappy luck with customers tonight. Champagne for everyone! Drink till it’s all a blur!”
Josée scanned the room. Serge and Frédéric were nowhere to be seen.
Then, the door creaked open again.
Serge stepped through, restraining Frédéric, followed by another man Josée recognized at once.
Wavy chestnut hair, piercing green eyes. A handsome face locked in a disapproving frown, lips sealed shut like a clamshell.
Josée frowned back.
“Well, Lord Bernard... Long time no see.”
He didn’t bother returning the greeting. Instead, he flashed a badge with a practiced motion.
“Bernard de Simon. Criminal Division. I’m here to investigate the alleged theft.”
The room erupted with squeals.
“Lord Bernard’s here!”
“He always starts with that deep, brooding intro!”
“So dreamy! Arrest me next!”
Bernard narrowed his eyes at the giggling women, then turned to lead his officers toward the guillotine room.
Frédéric yanked free from Serge’s grip and followed. Josée and Serge exchanged a glance, then went after them.
Inside the guillotine room, Bernard sighed at the sight of Josée.
“Josée again... You really show up at every crime scene in this town.”
Josée let out a theatrical sigh of her own.
“Maybe if someone actually called the police first, I wouldn’t have to keep cleaning up your messes.”
“...One of these days, I’m going to arrest you. Maybe today’s the day—finally a crime at brothel Lirondelle.”
“Ooh, scary.”
Serge stayed silent, keeping an eye on Frédéric while watching the two trade barbs.
The officers began a thorough search, combing every inch of the room, even peeling back the carpets. Josée stood off to the side, arms crossed tightly, watching in silence.
“Where exactly did you take the ring off, Frédéric-sama?”
“This room... I think. Honestly, I don’t even remember removing it. Things got a little... chaotic.”
“Do you suspect the courtesans may have planned this?”
“Ah! Now that you mention it... they've been asking odd questions lately. Like if I’ve traveled abroad recently.”
Serge went pale at that. Bernard scribbled notes in his notebook.
“Any other suspicious behavior?”
“The second floor was reserved today. And there were fewer customers than usual.”
“You think it was intentionally kept empty?”
“Could be.”
Josée cut in, her voice sharp.
“Frédéric-sama was the one who reserved the second floor. Don’t twist the facts.”
“Was he? Regardless... if the ring turns up, I’ll consider the matter settled. So let’s just—”
“*Consider it settled*? You talk like we’re criminals from the start!”
Josée snapped, eyes flashing with fury.
Bernard’s gaze shifted to Serge.
“...And who are you?”
“Serge de Baradur. Radical Party representative.”
“Outsiders aren’t permitted in the investigation area.”
“Hah... but—”
“What?”
Pushed unexpectedly, Serge spoke up.
“Frédéric-sama has a tendency to get violent with women when he’s upset. I’m here to prevent that.”
To everyone’s surprise, Bernard nodded.
“I see. Preventing a representative from embarrassing himself. Sensible.”
Serge blinked, stunned by the unexpected approval.
“Officers cause enough scandals of their own,” Josée muttered, as if everything suddenly made sense.
“Quiet,” Bernard said curtly, and said no more.
The ring was never found that night.
Frédéric never returned to Lirondelle again. Which meant Serge’s plans—whatever they were—had been derailed. No more brothel visits, no more opportunities.
But fate had other plans. They’d meet Frédéric again—in the worst way imaginable.
One week after the incident, on a perfectly bright and sunny day—
Josée let out a gasp mid-newspaper read, eyes locked on the headline:
**Fédor Representative’s Body Discovered**
**Severed Head Found in Lubton River — Clean Blade Cuts Suspected**