Sheila, a standout figure at the Garden Club.
Or rather, its star.
Young, beautiful, with a gentle demeanor, she seemed like a true lady. Moreover, she possessed wealth that most ladies, who depended on their fathers or brothers, did not have—those so-called ladies' lives weren't as glamorous as they seemed.
A life reliant on others would eventually shatter when those they depended on were gone.
A governess would be one of the few options available to such ladies.
Just like the original Goethe's governess, who was both knowledgeable and graceful, someone Goethe liked very much.
Unfortunately, when "the accident" happened, the governess had to leave.
It wasn't that she was heartless.
She just needed to survive.
Goethe didn't understand.
But Goethe understood.
Just as Goethe understood why in "his" memories, most of the recollections of the governess were about her posture rather than her smiling face.
However, in "his" memories, Sheila always had a sweet smile.
Especially when she smiled, those two dimples would enchant the former "him," who would spend large sums of money to listen to songs he didn't even understand.
In fact, the memories of Sheila were tinged with color.
Why?
Because Sheila was more beautiful than that governess.
That was Goethe's understanding.
He stood in the doorway, not closing the door. Many police officers were sneaking glances in his direction.
Goethe didn't care.
And he didn't plan to close the door.
He just stood there, looking at Sheila, who was smiling sweetly at him.
"Long time no see, Goethe."
Sheila showed no sign of awkwardness. She gracefully approached, pinching the hem of her dress and curtsying like a lady. As she bent down, she discreetly closed the door.
Then, when she stood up, her eyes showed a hint of sadness and sympathy.
"Goethe, I'm so sorry."
"I just heard about what happened to you yesterday."
"You know, at the Garden Club, news doesn't reach me quickly."
"Are you okay?"
As she spoke, she took another step forward.
Now, she was only one step away from Goethe.
As she approached, Goethe noticed that she was almost the same height as him.
At the same time, Goethe could clearly hear her faint breathing.
And a hint of sweetness.
It was like...
"A strawberry sweetness."
Goethe remarked.
She had obviously brushed her teeth or used mouthwash before seeing him.
No doubt, this was carefully planned.
From her expression, her words, to her actions.
All of it was like that.
If it had been the previous "Goethe," he would have, at this point, unconsciously shared his suffering in response to her rhythm.
Then, he would have fallen into her unknown trap.
But the current Goethe?
No way.
Ever since he had once tried a new posture with a certain woman and nearly got stabbed, making him nearly go from "卜" to "1," he knew what to do.
Looking at her directly, Goethe's face showed a hint of sadness.
"I'm not doing well."
"Thank you for your comfort, Sheila."
Goethe said.
"It's okay."
"Do you need any help?"
"I'll do my best to help you."
Sheila appeared understanding, looking genuinely concerned—this was a scenario she had played out hundreds of times, so she had become quite adept at it.
Moreover, she could already anticipate Goethe's next move.
A polite refusal, stating that he could manage on his own.
Then, she would offer her support, but with a troubled look, she would prepare to leave. Goethe would definitely inquire further, and she would share her difficulties, and a sympathetic Goethe would surely agree to help her.
Perfect!
Sheila smiled triumphantly in her heart.
She had encountered many simple and stubborn young men bent on revenge.
She knew exactly how to handle them.
With the entire scene playing out in her mind, Sheila was already prepared to let her tears flow when she sighed later, but suddenly, she felt a tightness around her waist.
Before she could react, Goethe had pressed her face-down onto the desk.
Then, Goethe grabbed her dress.
"W-wait!"
Sheila shouted, her voice changing in pitch due to the shock.
"Didn't you say you wanted to help me?"
Goethe looked up in surprise, as he was unbuckling his belt.
"I-I didn't mean that kind of help..."
Shira propped herself up on her arms, turned her head to look at Goethe with a pitiful expression, but her eyes flashed with a coldness that Goethe was all too familiar with.
That was...
Killing intent!
Although it was fleeting, Goethe caught it.
"So that's how it is."
Goethe spoke with a face full of regret, but instead of taking a step back, he stepped forward, pressing on.
In an instant, something hard pressed against Shira's body.
Immediately, Shira's entire body tensed up, her toes straightening.
That was...
A gun muzzle!
The muzzle of a revolver!
Goethe's left hand, which had been hidden behind him, was already in front, holding a gun pressed against Shira.
"Goethe, let's not joke around."
Shira's sweet face became a bit stiff.
"It was you who started joking first."
Goethe responded coldly.
"I'm sorry, you know that's not what I meant, I..."
Shira tried to explain.
However, when she saw the familiar coldness in Goethe's eyes growing more intense, the top star of the Garden Club immediately stopped her explanation and directly said, "I know where the 'Fog Killer' is!"
"Where?"
Goethe asked immediately.
Shira lay there, seemingly refusing to speak unless Goethe let her go.
Goethe stared at Shira's back.
At the neckline of her white dress, a portion of her neck was exposed—a shade of white even whiter than the dress, not pale but a pearly white that emitted a soft glow under the sunlight.
Goethe's right hand held the revolver, pressing it against her back.
With a slight increase in pressure, the muzzle moved up along her neck and pressed against the back of her head.
"Want to take a bet?"
"Let's see if my gun is faster, or your knife is faster?"
Goethe said coldly.
A look of surprise flashed across Shira's face as she faced away from Goethe. She was sure that Goethe, in his current position, shouldn't have been able to see her twin blades because—they were hidden in her shoes.
Just as Shira's toes tensed up, a blade silently extended from the sole of her shoe, and as she spoke and leaned forward, the movement caused her ankle to defy the limits of her joint, turning her foot backward by 180 degrees.
With a slight contraction of her calf, the two shoes, each hiding a blade, were now aimed at Goethe's back and lower waist.
She was certain that everything she did went unnoticed.
How did Goethe discover it?
Moreover, Goethe was nothing like what the information she gathered suggested.
He...
Seemed like a completely different person.
Such maturity and vigilance were impossible for a mere teenager!
But he really was just a teenager!
Which means...
Goethe was pretending!
He had been pretending from the start!
The Wayne family really has secrets!
A flicker of light flashed in Shira's eyes as she lowered her raised legs, retracting the blades as she did. Once more, in a pitiful voice, she said, "I don't dare to bet, your gun is definitely faster."
"Let's make a deal."
"I'll tell you where the 'Fog Killer' is hiding, and you let me go this time, alright?"
As Shira spoke, her eyes began to fill with tears as she turned to look at Goethe.
Goethe thought for a moment and raised both guns.
However, Shira's expression became even more rigid.
Because she was still being held at gunpoint.
The killing intent that had just dissipated condensed again.
Just as Shira was about to risk everything to kill Goethe, Goethe took two steps back.
It was as if nothing had happened; he moved to the other side of the desk, standing in front of her.
Due to the angle, when Shira looked up, her face turned red with embarrassment.
She had been exposed to many things at the Garden Club, but never up close like this.
Shira quickly stood up.
Her face was filled with shame and anger as she glared at Goethe.
After taking several deep breaths, Shira finally calmed down.
Her face turned cold, and there was no longer a trace of softness in her voice.
"The 'Fog Killer' is at 17 Warehouse Street."
After speaking, Shira turned to leave.
Goethe raised his gun as he watched her back, his brow slightly furrowed.
But,
He didn't pull the trigger.
Because he had gotten the information about the 'Fog Killer.'
Though he didn't know if it was true, according to their deal, he had to let her go this time.
Back home, he was always burdened by 'keeping his promises,' but even now, he had no intention of changing that.
Because—
It made him feel like he was still human.
That he was still alive.
It's just...
A bit exhausting.
Leaning back in his chair, Goethe whispered softly to himself.
He stretched, stood up again, and walked to the window. He saw Shira getting into a carriage, watching as it drove away, merging into the bustling crowd.
At that moment, the police station's bell rang twelve times.
"Three hours left until three o'clock."
(End of chapter)