[AFYC] Chapter 82
Barbara, Simon, and even the usually scornful Abel looked baffled at the foreigner’s strange behaviour.
With all eyes on her, the foreigner took a deep breath and turned to face Abel as if making a firm decision.
“I’m sorry about today. But they said nothing wards off bad luck better than this,” she murmured, her voice trembling despite her resolute expression.
Bad luck?
What on earth is she talking about, suddenly asking for salt?
What is she going to…
Keuk, keuk.
“...”
“...”
Oscar’s thoughts trailed off, becoming hazy before disappearing entirely.
Keuk, keuk.
The sound of the rock salt grinder was unusually loud in the stillness of the mansion’s entrance. The woman, her head bowed, turned the grinder with trembling hands.
Keuk, keuk.
Abel Sting looked like he was about to choke on incredulity.
Keuk, chi…
“Ha…”
The word forming on his lips was unmistakably a curse. The cold wind that had followed them through the forest swirled between the hunched-over foreigner and the seemingly defeated seducer.
An equally cold laugh suddenly shattered the tense silence created by the chilling wind.
Oscar couldn’t help but laugh.
“Keuk, keuk…”
The laughter scratched his throat, mingling with the cold air that filled his lungs.
The laughter slipped out, the cold air filling the space it left behind. Again, the cold air seeped into his lungs as the laughter left, as if breathing.
Oddly enough, it felt like he was finally breathing again. The stench of blood that had clung to him like a shadow seemed to recede slightly, and the irritation that had been nagging at the back of his mind vanished.
How did someone like her end up with the key?
After laughing for what felt like an eternity, Oscar took a deep breath and raised his head, brushing aside the hair that had fallen into his eyes with a hand holding the cigarette.
Through the smoke, he saw her pale, tear-streaked face.
It reminded him of how she had looked that first day.
Oscar took another drag of his cigarette and greeted her lightly with the same nonchalance as the casual remark he had made that night.
“Have you been well?”
Though, by the looks of it, that didn’t seem to be the case.
♔♔♔
“It doesn’t look like you spent the day rolling around in bed,” Oscar remarked, slipping off his coat as he entered the reception room. Abel, who had followed him in, and the backup agent both wore expressions of utter exhaustion.
They both looked so drained that Simon couldn’t help but ask, “What on earth happened out there?”
Barbara, who was hanging up Oscar’s coat, responded instead.
“Didn’t they say they were going to Pal Phien Market?”
The mention of that wretched place made Abel grit his teeth. He was already planning to find out who had informed her about that place, even if it turned out to be the venerable Barbara herself. Meanwhile, Oscar perched on the edge of the desk, his posture casual, but his shadowed gaze as sharp as a well-honed blade directed at Abel.
Abel immediately stood at attention.
“I’ll report on the target’s movements.”
Oscar nodded, signalling for him to proceed.
“At 08:45, we arrived at Pal Phien Market. At approximately 12:25, we moved to the Notheim Cemetery.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Oscar fixated on one particular detail.
“Cemetery?”
Abel wanted to die right then and there as he repeated the word ‘cemetery’ in Oscar’s voice.
Though he was the one who had experienced it firsthand, the situation suddenly felt surreal, as if it had happened to someone else. Maybe that’s what he wanted.
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you kill?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Did you have something to bury?”
“No, sir.”
“Then, was it a good spot for work?”
“No, sir.”
Oscar, incredulous, chuckled as he continued to probe the connection between the cemetery and the target. Abel, sensing Oscar’s patience waning, quickly resumed his report.
“It was the target who insisted on going to the cemetery. Her purpose was to return the flowers she bought from the itinerant traders to the graves they were taken from.”
Oscar wasn’t only surprised; even the perpetually stoic Simon and Barbara looked at Abel with wide eyes.
Abel braced himself under the weight of their gazes.
If only they knew, this was just the beginning.
“Around 09:45, the target purchased flowers from the itinerant traders. A few minutes later, she learned of their origin and insisted on returning them to the cemetery.”
Abel conveniently omitted the part about how the target had found out about the flowers’ origin.
