Chapter 9
Juan shook his head. His pink eyes held a vacant expression, as if his very soul had been drained, and his face and the white tails of his coat were splattered with blood.
It looked like he'd been spattered with someone else's blood.
"What happened..."
"I-I don't know... It just happened... He's not moving... "
"Whom are you talking about?"
Mr. Pavel persisted with his inquiries, yet Juan's response remained a blank stare aimed in my direction, devoid of any discernible reaction.
Taking action on impulse, I grabbed Juan's wrist and guided him into a nearby room. We hastened into an employee-only restroom.
Mr. Pavel secured the bathroom door while I led Juan to the sink, turning on the faucet to let cool water flow.
Juan tentatively pressed his lips against the water stream, as if he had regained some semblance of awareness upon hearing the soothing sound of water.
"I instructed him to surrender it to me... No, I instructed him to reveal its location..."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I-I don't know, I really don’t know what's going on, but... He’s not moving… I was just trying to scare him…"
"Mr. Pavel, do you have a handkerchief?"
Mr. Pavel, stationed with his back against the door, his gaze fixed on Juan with a glare that could melt steel, promptly retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me.
I moistened the handkerchief with water and began gently wiping the blood-streaked countenance of the Ducal Prince.
Wondering if a little bit of clarity had returned to his dazed, pink eyes, a tear inexplicably welled up, glinting under the bathroom lights.
"Perhaps it was due to the alcohol impairing my control… So I ceased drinking, as my thoughts became entangled…"
"Prince?"
"I-I acquired a bottle there... The man appeared to be not moving. I merely aimed to intimidate him but after our altercation... No, it seems he initiated our confrontation by grabbing my collar..."
"Who are you referring to? Who's not moving?"
Juan remained unaffected by Mr. Pavel's forceful prodding, which resembled molten lava on the brink of eruption. Instead, he continued to gaze at my face, his words a string of incoherent stutters.
“I-I assumed the item held significance for you... Hence, I was chasing after him," he managed to articulate.
"What?"
"I don't know what it is... However, I overheard snippets of your conversation with that old man... I reasoned that you would be distressed upon learning of its disappearance... Yet, I couldn’t muster the courage to confront that old man..."
That old man? My and Mr. Pavel's attention simultaneously shifted to Jerome, who stood off to the side, uneasily fidgeting. Jerome's fearful expression morphed into one of bewilderment.
"No, why me..."
Only then did I realize the source of the blood staining Juan's attire. As the realization flickered through my mind and dissipated, a fundamental question emerged.
"Was the Prince seen by anyone?"
Juan's head shook in a perplexing manner, a gesture neither explicitly negative nor affirmative.
"I don't know... I was searching for you, wandering about... I don't believe I encountered anyone..."
"Where did this happen?"
"I can't recall... It transpired beneath the staircase... There was a sort of boat nearby, I believe..."
Given the mention of a boat, it seemed likely that Juan was referring to gondolas. My interpretation linked the incident to the lower levels of the building, adjacent to the artificial canal.
A swift, unspoken exchange of glances ensued between me and Mr. Pavel.
“Mr. Pavel, if you head to the second-floor changing room, you'll find extra clothing. Please bring something that would fit him."
Given the circumstances of the evening, it was regrettable that the attire intended for guests had to be used. Despite the lingering questions in his expression, our Chief Aide promptly exited the bathroom.
Meanwhile, I assisted Juan in removing his wet coat. His white jacket, vest, tie, and shirt bore crimson stains.
Jerome, who had been observing restlessly with an anxious expression, tentatively opened his mouth. His voice trembled as he spoke.
"Um, well... This young man... The individual he was involved in a dispute with..."
“Keep your mouth shut.”
“Uh, but…”
Halting my effort to dispose of the blood-soaked clothing, I locked eyes with Jerome, delivering my message directly.
“Haven't you heard what he revealed? Motivated by his belief that my efforts were futile, he trailed after you. Such an incident could have been avoided if you had fulfilled your promise from the beginning."
Evidently grappling with self-blame, Jerome's eyes quivered like ripples in water. Eventually, Mr. Pavel returned with a set of clothes.
The ensemble included not only garments but also a matching tie, belt, and shoes neatly packed in a gift pouch. I found myself surprised by Mr. Pavel's deftness in handling this task.
Although Juan remained somewhat disoriented, he proceeded to cleanse his face and don the new attire as I directed.
While he changed in the cubicle, we stowed away the blood-stained clothing and meticulously wiped away the vestiges of blood from the sink.
“Miss Sasha, if he dies…”
“If someone sustains such significant bleeding from a bottle strike, that someone’s survival seems implausible."
“It appears you've already deduced the identity of the individual involved…”
“Sir Cosimo.”
Mr. Pavel widened his deep blue eyes but refrained from posing further inquiries. Subsequently, Juan emerged from the cubicle, donning a crisp cream tailcoat.
“Sasha, I…”
“Don’t say a word.”
His pink eyes pleaded with a poignant gaze. I took his hand, subtly shaking my head.
“There's nothing to worry about. The Prince merely spilled some alcohol on his attire and proceeded to change. In this location, we saw absolutely nothing—even me. Are we clear?”
He nodded in understanding.
With everyone's unanimous agreement evident, I guided Juan toward the bathroom door.
“Now, return to the reception area. Remember, there was no incident.”
Juan seemed poised to express more, but he ultimately lowered his head and departed.
“Hey, young man…”
“You should also make your way back, Viscount.”
“Ah, but still… I should probably check things out first…”
Do you want to conduct an investigation? I ceased my smile.
“Do as you see fit. However, among all those present tonight, who do you think will be the primary suspect? Several individuals likely witnessed your argument with your older brother.”
Jerome's look became fraught with apprehension. Not uttering another word, I raised my hand, gesturing to the door.
Once Jerome obediently returned to the party, Mr. Pavel and I also exited the hallway, each carrying bags of gifts. Subsequently, a sigh escaped my lips.
“I'll take these to the incinerator.”
"Thank you."
“Well, Miss Sasha.”
"Yes?"
Raising my gaze, I encountered an aide who regarded me with an air of concern.
“Are you all right?”
An odd question, indeed. Am I okay? What could be amiss? Naturally, a tinge of disappointment lingered in me. One of them was killed so effortlessly.
To make matters worse, it was at the hands of the heroine's younger brother.
Such a scenario had never crossed my mind. I never anticipated that Juan could be so impulsive. Regardless of its accidental nature, it occurred primarily due to his fixation on heroism…
A disconcerting sensation swept over me as if I were privy to something.
“Of course, I’m perfectly fine.”
The Grand Canal shopping mall buzzed with activity this evening.
Moreover, its intricate waterways made it easy to lose one's way. Identifying the perpetrator would prove a challenge even without knowledge of the precise location where the incident transpired.
The inaugural charity event spanned two hours. After supervising proceedings, I returned to the reception hall just as the first fountain show was set to commence.
Ensuring that everyone reveled blissfully in their ignorance, I retraced my steps to the hotel and ascended to my office.
From a desk drawer, I retrieved a sable fur hat, followed by donning a white fur coat.
Exiting the office, I descended to the ground floor once more, where the exuberant cheers of the courtyard's visitors resonated.
Elevating the security of my hat, I departed the hotel through the employee emergency exit on the side adjacent to the casino.
* * *
I contemplated using a bicycle, but its conspicuousness posed a significant risk, particularly on a night like this.
Once, Valentina expressed her desire for me to witness the festival ambiance of Eldora Street.
Previously the largest slum in the imperial capital, the street had undergone a transformation into the most extensive entertainment district.
The thoroughfare now greeted visitors with a line of street vendors adorned with vibrant five-colored lanterns.
The discord was so intense that it seemed possible for a shootout to unfold somewhere within the alley without anyone taking notice.
“Shall we proceed to the hotel?”
“Are you referring to Sir Snake’s Hotel?”
"They’re offering complimentary gifts tonight!"
Well, the anticipation for your gift will have to extend until midnight.
Irrespective of that, since this area was under the jurisdiction of the Dallas Club, a certain level of tranquility persisted.
Where is Benya currently, and what is he engaged in? I fervently hoped that no harm befell on anyone…
The vicinity surrounding the festival on the outskirts of the street retained an air of relative quietness.
As soon as I caught sight of the Butterfly Bar building, I hastened directly toward it. Abruptly, someone leaped from my behind and issued a loud exclamation.
"Hey! Pardon me!”
What? I inadvertently adjusted my hat.
Surveying my surroundings, I identified a middle-aged gentleman adorned with a Kaiser-style mustache.
He appeared to be panting and glared at me with intensity—a level of intensity not entirely uncommon.
Following a moment of silence, the gentleman eventually regained his breath and uttered gruffly.
“Is that structure over there the Butterfly, the pub?”
"I suppose so? Why do you ask in such a manner?"
“Ah, I've found it then. Damn it! … I apologize. I’ve come in search of my wife.”
Ah, you're here in pursuit of your wife. The man's expression grew more agitated in response to my progressively skeptical demeanor.
Subsequently, he even brandished the staff he was clutching in the air, gnashing his teeth.
“Are you crazy? I see. Who would have fathomed rendezvousing in a locale like this? Huh? Isn't it ingeniously breathtaking?! I’ll just…”
"Um, well, I, too, am searching for someone."
“In that case, you'll grasp my sentiment even more! Never give up! Heck, I'll assist you! … But how can I slip in unnoticed?”
There was nothing to slip in through. Stepping through the main entrance, traversing the first floor hosting the revelry, and ascending the staircase, the gentleman who was in a rage chased after me.
The second floor, featuring a lounge and a beverage bar, remained relatively tranquil.
As I drew back the curtain adjacent to the grand portrait depicting a weeping woman, a concealed staircase materialized just as Valentina had described.
This passageway led to a 'confidential' floor reserved for regular patrons.
Having ascended the winding, narrow stairs, we were welcomed by a hushed hallway shrouded in darkness. The extended, narrow corridor sported doors resembling matchboxes on both sides.
With the intention of dealing with this incensed gentleman first, I turned around.
However, the gentleman, his eyes flashing as he scrutinized his surroundings, promptly pushed open the door adjacent to me.
“Monica!”
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