There Is No Paradise Where You Escaped - Chapter 51

It was nearly dusk when they finally arrived in Farrington.

Vivianne, seeing Farrington’s skyline for the first time, could not tear her eyes away from the grand, dazzling cityscape. Bathed in the red hues of the setting sun, the city bustled with elegant ladies in splendid dresses and gentlemen in tailored suits.

As darkness deepened, workers took to the streets, lighting the evenly spaced streetlamps. The creeping shadows slowly vanished as if fearful of being discovered.

Farrington was far larger and more luxurious than Vivianne had expected. She recalled her father’s remark about Golden Bay, the capital of Preston, shaking his head at its excessive extravagance compared to the understated elegance of Harbor Bridge, where the Marquis’s manor was located in Preston. If even Golden Bay had seemed excessive to him, what would he have thought of this city in Neway?

Thinking of her father, who had disappeared from the capital, dampened her mood. Vivianne quickly untied the tie-back curtains, shutting out the view. She refused to wallow in sorrow over a problem she could not solve.

Before she knew it, the carriage came to a stop. Lost in thought, she absentmindedly took Edwin’s outstretched hand and stepped down.

Her gaze instinctively scanned the surroundings, landing on a street sign: Wind River 5th Avenue—the most affluent neighborhood in all of Farrington’s glittering splendor. The manors, grand and imposing, were built of fine stone. Though similar in structure, each featured uniquely designed staircases and entrances, showcasing the wealth and status of its owner through distinct materials and decorative styles.

Naturally slipping her arm through Edwin’s, Vivianne let him escort her inside the manor. Inside, her eyes widened. She took in the opulent interior: white marble ceilings adorned with a symmetrical pattern that harmonized with the golden staircase railing leading to the second floor. A chandelier hung from the lobby’s ceiling—simple in design, yet the concave portion above it bore a breathtaking painting in mesmerizing colors.

Vivianne, rarely captivated by anything, found herself staring at the artwork for quite some time. When she finally lowered her gaze, her eyes met those of an elderly butler, who greeted Edwin with courteous formality.

As all distractions faded from her mind, Vivianne’s senses sharpened. Realizing she was still holding Edwin’s arm, her fingertips stiffened. The deep-set eyes of the old butler settled on her, and she instinctively forced the corners of her lips into a smile. At the same time, under the guise of courtesy, she released Edwin’s arm and composed herself.

After a brief exchange with Hugh Humphrey, she found herself taking a liking to the butler’s warm demeanor.

The moment Edwin’s arm was freed, he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Less than ten minutes had passed since their arrival in Farrington.

“Please show Vivianne to her room,” Edwin instructed.

“Yes, my lord,” Humphrey replied.

“Make sure to eat properly, even when I’m not around,” Edwin added, directing his words at Vivianne.

Fidgeting with her fingers, still warmed by Edwin’s touch, Vivianne suppressed the fleeting question that crossed her mind and simply nodded. The thought embarrassed her—that even in front of Humphrey, whom she had just met, she was in a position where she needed to be reminded to eat.

Without hesitation, Edwin turned and walked away with Roarke, leaving her behind. Having just arrived at the manor, he disappeared without so much as a moment to catch his breath.

Feeling awkward and slightly lost, Vivianne looked to Humphrey. The butler, with a gentle and kind expression, smiled as he guided her to her room.

The tension of being in an unfamiliar place melted away like snow, eased by the lively conversation that accompanied their ascent to the second floor. Humphrey spoke of the repairs and expansions made to the manor before they arrived from Rottermond, of joyful and unexpected news received while living here, and of the grand balls and parties once held in its halls.

Humphrey’s warmth stood in stark contrast to Abernathy of Rodinia—younger, warmer.

Vivianne wondered what it might have been like if Abernathy had been as warm and considerate as Humphrey, filling silences with unnecessary yet engaging stories, smiling kindly to ease one’s boredom or nervousness.

Would Rodinia Castle, under its new owner, have felt more comfortable?

She shook her head. It wasn’t Abernathy’s cold demeanor that had made that place uneasy; it was the past itself.

“If you go deep into the opposite hallway, you will find the master’s chambers,” Humphrey said, gesturing toward the corridor.

The moment Edwin’s name lingered at the edge of Humphrey’s lips, Vivianne was struck by an irresistible curiosity—one she tried to suppress but ultimately couldn’t ignore.

“By the way, where has His Grace gone at this late hour?”

Her question came out sharper than intended. Realizing it too late, she cleared her throat awkwardly, trying to mask her embarrassment.

Humphrey, who had been about to say something else, instead answered her redirected question.

“His Grace has many friends in the capital.”

“…You mean he’s out socializing now?” Vivianne’s eyes gleamed with unfiltered curiosity.

It was the kind of reaction one would expect from a young lady unfamiliar with Farrington’s nightlife. Smiling indulgently, Humphrey continued his explanation carefully as if not to startle a child.

“In Farrington, this is not considered late. This is when many of the city’s young bloods gather to enjoy wine, cigars, and the pleasures of youth. It is nothing unusual, my lady. However, His Grace only partakes in light card games—he does not indulge in other amusements.”

Vivianne sighed softly, narrowing her eyes. She barely registered the latter half of Humphrey’s explanation.

The idea of Edwin spending the night drinking, smoking, and reveling in the passions of youth felt completely out of place. The Edwin she had known in Rodinia had never seemed drawn to such entertainments. Or… was he?

Recalling the parties once held at Rodinia long ago, it no longer seemed so far-fetched. The Edwin from back then—drunk and laughing freely—had monopolized the affections of noblewomen.

No doubt he was spending another night just like that.

“I’ll take the guest room,” Vivianne declared flatly. “The chambers on the Duke’s floor are surely meant for the master.”

Her voice was firm, devoid of any trace of flexibility.

Humphrey hesitated before taking a deep breath.

“My lady, you are also a mistress of this house.”

She hadn’t expected him to agree to change her room. She had braced herself for a response like, “It is the Duke’s orders,” “It is a command,” or even one of Abernathy’s thinly veiled threats that grated on her nerves.

Vivianne’s heart softened unexpectedly. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she stepped into the room Humphrey had led her to.

────── ✾ ──────

Edwin and Roarke left the manor and boarded the carriage. At the coachman’s shout and the crack of the whip, the wheels began to turn. Amidst the white noise of the city, Edwin gazed at the capital, now cloaked in darkness.

Lifting the curtain slightly, he recalled a face that had once been brimmed with rosy wonder at the city’s glow. Her ash-gray eyes, reflected in the carriage window, feigned composure—but the sadness in them could not be hidden.

Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, Edwin retrieved the necklace he had purchased from Theo Evans. The loose hinge allowed the locket’s cover to open effortlessly. Making a mental note to fix the screw, his gaze fell upon the tiny portrait inside.

Roarke stole a sidelong glance at him but quickly looked away when he noticed Edwin rubbing the portrait absentmindedly, unaware of the passing time.

“I believe it’s about time to make our move.”

Roarke’s voice was low and deliberate, but Edwin remained silent, still staring at the portrait.

“Your Grace.”

Roarke called out again, as if checking whether Edwin had even heard him. This time, Edwin snapped the locket shut and carefully tucked the locket back into his pocket.

“What? Are you worried I might have regrets? That I might abandon the plan?”

“… That’s not the case, but you seem to be paying a great deal of attention to the lady these days.”

“She’s worth it.”

His smile faded, and his cold gaze returned to the window. Reflected in the glass, his face sank into a low silence.

“—For now.”

The bright lights of the capital streaked past his vision painfully fast. He had yet to find the right moment to kill Vivianne. He reasoned that his hesitation must be the product of lust. Maybe, once he had her completely, his cleared mind would finally settle on the right time.

But was that even necessary?

Once he took what he wanted and regained his reason, she would be ruined beyond repair—shattered so utterly that no one would even know where to begin tightening the screws. And then, even the pleasure of killing her might be gone.

      Of all people, why did my first true desire have to be Vivianne Aveline?

Was this the heavens’ indifference? Or was it a divine revelation, stripping her of everything she had left? Edwin weighed his thoughts on an invisible scale, caught between fate and mockery. He let out a bitter laugh at the cruel game God was playing on him.

Before long, they arrived at the meeting place.

The stench of the capital drifted in on the wind. Swallowing in the familiar air, Edwin stepped out and made his way toward the basement of a building. Roarke, scanning the surroundings cautiously, followed behind him.

Edwin descended the stairs, pushing through the clinging darkness and the floating dust illuminated by dim yellow light. The high-pitched wail of an inebriated violin, raucous laughter, thick clouds of cigar smoke, and the nauseating mixture of perfume and alcohol created a chaotic mess of sensations.

After pushing through the crowd to a secluded corner, Edwin spotted Corbin rising from his seat. A young man sitting with Corbin also stood to face Edwin.

As he removed his hat, his blond hair stood out in the dim light. Aware of the attention it might draw, he glanced around quickly before putting his hat back on. Though there were plenty of blond-haired individuals in the city, Edwin understood the man’s caution all too well.

“My apologies that our first meeting couldn’t be in a more refined place.”

The man curled his lips into a smooth, uncreased smile. His youthfulness was reminiscent of the immature Evans.

“The more secretive the conversation, the more discreet the location should be. Are you good with alcohol? It seems we won’t be able to leave this place until sunrise. As you can see, it’s the kind of place where appearances must be maintained.”

Edwin gestured around at the chaotic surroundings. The young man responded with an easy smile.

“I came fully prepared.”

The young man’s voice was filled with youthful confidence, carrying an unfounded sense of strength. Despite his noble lineage, he was far removed from the refinement of aristocratic etiquette—more like a reckless country boy brimming with untamed energy.

Without hesitation, he extended a hand toward Edwin.

“Come to think of it, we haven’t introduced ourselves. I’m Nathan Bannister.”

His deep green eyes caught the dim light and sparkled like polished gemstones. The color was so dark that, for a fleeting moment, it almost appeared gray.

Tracing back several generations in Preston’s history, one would find that the House of Aveline had branched off from the Bannister royal line.

Though the young Bannister standing before him and the esteemed young lady of the House of Aveline were now little more than strangers, there were subtle traces of Aveline in him—or perhaps, traces of Bannister in Aveline.

Edwin grasped Nathan’s outstretched hand and replied with measured ease.

“I am Sayer Raven.”