Chapter 39

I peered at Amon with a puzzled gaze.

Amon bit his lip tightly and stared intently at my hand, suppressing laughter.

"…What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Just as I realized something was off and tried to pull my hand away, Amon hurriedly grasped on.

"No, no, it's nothing."

Still holding my hand, Amon lowered his head deeply. He covered his face with one hand, and soon his shoulders started trembling slightly.

"What is it now?!"

"…I apologize. I asked for the veil. I thought it might be hard for you to put on by yourself, so I was trying to help."

His suppressed voice was tinged with laughter. And there I was, unknowingly holding out my hand like a well-trained dog.

"Then why didn’t you just say so—"

"I'm sorry."

Amon apologized again. My face burned with embarrassment as I withdrew my hand and passed him the black veil I had set beside the chair.

"Here."

My voice was still curt, and Amon's lips twitched slightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly and began fiddling with the veil. What I thought was a simple piece of fabric actually seemed to have a specific proper way of being worn.

"Allow me, just for a moment."

Amon moved cautiously to my side and unfolded the veil widely. As I shut my eyes, I felt his hands gently brushing against my hair.

"It's done."

After I unlatched my eyelids, my vision was blurred. The veil swayed lightly near my nose, concealing more than half of my face.

"How does it feel?"

"Well, it’s fine, I suppose. But do I really have to wear this throughout the entire funeral?"

"No, you can take it off if it becomes uncomfortable. I've tied it to the strings of your dress, so it should fall back on its own."

Ah, so that’s why he insisted on putting it on for me. Amon then opened the carriage door and stepped out, offering me his hand.

"This time, I ask for your hand."

His words carried a hint of playful mischief.

The funeral was held in an annex located at the far corner of the Duke's estate. Calling it an annex felt overly generous—it was a modest, single-story building.

The atmosphere was understated. The few candles on the walls provided just enough light to see, and the space itself was quite cramped. Everyone was dressed in black mourning attire, which added to the solemn mood.

A black curtain hung from the ceiling, dividing the hall in half. Everyone lined up before it. I stood behind Amon, following his lead.

One by one, people entered the curtain and emerged from the opposite side.

Soon, it was my turn. Carefully parting the curtain, I stepped inside to find a half-opened coffin. Recalling the procedures Amon had explained, I picked up a white candle placed at the front.

Slowly, I approached the coffin. Hayden's face was clearly visible, looking exactly as he had in life. My body instinctively flinched; the sight was uncanny. If it weren’t for the abundance of flowers nearby, one might think he was merely asleep.

I looked down at him—the pitiful man who could only return to the Duke's residence after his death.

Closing my eyes briefly, I prayed for his repose before lighting the candle from a torch burning beside the coffin. I then transferred the flame to a glass holder nearby, completing the ritual.

As I exited the curtain, Amon continued waiting for me. We exchanged a brief glance, understanding each other without words.

I thought we would head straight back to the carriage, but Amon led us towards a door on the opposite side of where we’d entered.

"What’s all this?"

As soon as the door opened, a dazzling light blinded my vision. Lavish decorations, a lively atmosphere, and constant laughter—it felt like stepping into an entirely different world.

"It's the banquet hall," Amon explained, guiding me towards an empty table. Still bewildered, I followed and sat down. A servant approached swiftly and poured us wine.

"In noble funerals, a banquet often follows. It’s a pretext for gathering under the guise of offering condolences."

"Right next door to the deceased?"

Amon shrugged.

No matter how you justified it, this was excessive. There was a corpse mere steps away, and yet no one seemed the least bit sorrowful.

"Since we’re here, let’s stay for a while. We might pick up useful information."

"Fine."

Still dazed, I took a sip of wine. From across the room, a man raised his hand in greeting. He stood out amongst the crowd, laughing loudly and drawing attention.

The man pushed through the throng and approached our table, extending a hand to Amon.

"It’s been a while."

It was Baldi Bolev, the second suspect and a distant relative of Russell.

"Indeed, it has," Amon replied, rising to exchange polite greetings. I turned my head away, pretending not to notice. While I had anticipated encountering him here, I hadn’t expected it to occur this way.

'Why go out of your way to greet us?'

He acted as if he were unaware he was a key suspect. His cheerful demeanor was irritating, especially in such a setting. Even his mourning attire—a black uniform and cloak—was unbearable to look at.

Thankfully, it seemed Baldi hadn’t recognized me under the veil. Ignoring me entirely, he directed his attention to Amon.

"So, are you here to inquire about the inheritance as well?"

"What do you mean by that?"

Amon frowned slightly.

"Wasn’t Hayden planning to relinquish his claim to the inheritance? Are you suggesting his death is related to the matter?"

"Of course."

Baldi stroked his mustache with a smug expression as if he’d been waiting for the question.

"The process of renouncing an inheritance is rather complex. It’s not something one can do on a whim. And Hayden, being a direct heir, was no exception. With Russell’s cause of death still unresolved, the matter could have dragged on for over a year."

"So Hayden’s death conveniently nullifies the need for any procedures?"

"Exactly! With his death, the inheritance claim naturally dissolves."

Baldi grinned, as though he expected praise. I felt nauseated and turned my chair away. Fortunately, the veil concealed my expression.

Amon, too, seemed uneasy, his tone growing colder.

"So, you’re saying that the matter of the Duke’s inheritance will now proceed in earnest?"

"Precisely! With the troublesome brothers gone, it’s finally our turn."

'Our turn?'

As if sensing my skepticism, Baldi clarified.

"Our branch of the family! The era of the sidelined, the overshadowed branch has finally arrived!"

His boisterous laughter filled the hall. With that, he gave Amon a few hearty pats on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

"What an infuriating man."

Breaking my silence, I spoke as soon as Baldi was out of earshot. Amon nodded in agreement.

"Still, we’ve gleaned useful information—namely, that Hayden’s death benefits those vying for the inheritance."

"Though, unfortunately, most of the people in this banquet hall fall into that category."

Amon gave a bitter smile at my cutting remark. He knew I was right. Eavesdropping wasn’t even necessary; the topic of inheritance dominated every conversation around us.

'Come to think of it, where is Selena Bolev?'

Having encountered Baldi, my thoughts turned to the last remaining suspect. Knowing her personality, she wouldn’t avoid an event like this.

Perhaps I’d missed her in the crowd. As I scanned the room, the banquet doors swung open. A figure emerged—a woman in a sleek black dress, her veil draped like a shawl, her thick black hair exuding an air of elegance.

It was Selena.

"Sir Spencer," I murmured.

"Yes, I see her too," Amon replied quietly, nodding.

We weren’t the only ones who noticed. All eyes turned to Selena. It wasn’t just her theatrical attire that caught their attention; there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence.

'Who will Selena approach first?'

Baldi, perhaps? Or someone else tied to the inheritance.

As I narrowed my eyes to observe, Selena’s head stopped moving. Her crimson gaze locked onto—

"Why, you’re here too?"

Me.

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