The Emerald Bishop Chapter 8
Owen finally allowed a faint smile as he met Kayla’s eyes.
“The flat owner told me she saw blood.”
“This place is designated for the parish, and men aren’t allowed inside even if they’re family. I’m lucky you managed to cover it up.”
“She was flustered when I mentioned it was for an investigation. She told me to watch my step. Did you find anything else?”
“As you can see, I’m here now.”
The words died in his throat. The room fell into heavy silence.
Sabujak sabujak.
The soft rustle of skirts, untrendy and modest, drifted through the space.
Just as the silence began to press down, Owen scrunched his face and let out a complaining groan.
“Marriage? To a viscount, no less. You never once mentioned it before.”
He pushed himself off the wisteria vine, kicked at the dry earth with his boot, and vented his frustration.
“Of course, I know I don’t have the right to question you, and you don’t owe me an explanation. But… I’m just as betrayed as you are.”
“Yeah, betrayed… that one’s getting old.”
“What?”
While Kayla was still reeling from the mention of her father’s office, Owen’s flustered expression slipped past her notice.
She straightened, tilting her head to study the heavy, sturdy lines of his face.
Brown eyes that had always been warm and kind flickered, and his shoulders slumped.
“Do you still have your father’s office?”
“…”
“The detective agency. Dad sold it to Mom after he passed away. You still have it?”
Calling it an office felt like an exaggeration; it was more of a warehouse now, but now was not the time to nitpick.
“…Why do you ask all of a sudden?”
“Why? I have to catch that bastard whether I get married or not. The obligation never changes.”
Owen sighed as if he were asking, “Again?” and scratched his head, but the scowl on his face only deepened.
“Kayla, you heard Bunker died, right? Nothing has happened since then.”
“You still don’t believe me.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you–”
“If you say it’s true, then there really won’t be any incidents?”
It wasn’t panic, but Kayla’s gaze had sent a chill down Owen’s spine.
“I’ll catch him. Within the year.”
The determined tone, the way the dimple on her right cheek appeared when she was being stubborn—Owen wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her.
“You’re talking about marriage. Why? All of a sudden… Is there a connection between this and marriage?”
There was. Because I have a rock-solid fortress around me for the next year.
“…”
Without voicing the flood of words crowding her chest, Owen gave her a knowing look and chided her.
“Seven years of silence, and now a year? Why, even a detective?”
Yes, she should reflect. She had wasted time lamenting how unfair life had been, and after her father died, she had walked a razor’s edge, day after day.
She was tired now. She didn’t want to go back.
“Exactly. That’s why I need the office. Tell me—do you have it or not?”
Owen stepped in front of her with a resigned expression.
“How would I know? You think I didn’t figure it out? That office belongs to you alone. Your father’s will, my dream of becoming a detective alongside you. You really don’t remember asking me?”
She had guarded his back for four years. Why didn’t she remember?
Owen had never even told his father, Duke Trevor, about Kayla’s kidnapping. The only friend who could distinguish innocence from love. A friend who was too soft-hearted.
He was a police officer who wanted to be a detective, and even in that situation he had separated the two without issue. It seemed his words were true after all.
“I’ve always been grateful. Even if I had to play tricks on you as a cop, I wouldn’t have a word of complaint.”
Kayla stared at him with eyes that had begun to glow.
“Still, I have to see it with my own eyes. I have to watch the bastard get caught myself.”
Owen’s sharp brown eyes, usually gentle, suddenly filled with surrender. His shoulders drooped.
“Even the duke knows about your sleepwalking?”
Owen shook his head while watching Kayla bite her lip.
“Of course he does. He’d be horrified if he knew the future viscountess was chasing a killer.”
“He isn’t dead. And… he won’t be stopped.”
“Hah! You really do have faith in something.”
“But you’ll help, won’t you?”
Ignoring his sarcastic remark, her green eyes pleaded.
“Wait. First, I’ll submit my resignation–”
“No! You’re not quitting.”
“…”
“I’m going to open a bookstore.”
Owen blinked in surprise at her sudden refusal, then quickly continued.
“I’ve been struggling to find a way to approach people without making them uncomfortable.”
“So… a bookstore is that way?”
Owen frowned at the impossible idea. Kayla shrugged.
“It’s something I’m good at.”
“So you’re doing it alone? According to you, that bastard is still alive!”
“Of course I’ll need your help. You know administration and investigation better than I do, since you’re a cop.”
She muttered something and let out a small, satisfied laugh.
Owen looked at her with disbelief, then sighed helplessly.
“How am I supposed to beat you?”
“Thank you. I knew you’d understand.”
Kayla smiled in relief and patted his thick sleeve.
“No, it doesn’t make sense. Marriage to a duke. Is that some kind of cover operation?”
“…”
“You’re getting married? To a duke? Over a princess? Tell me, what cover is this?”
“I didn’t say anything grand–”
The smooth tongue froze at the sudden question and stuttered.
“So it’s true?”
Owen suddenly pressed his left hand to his chest, his face twisting in confusion.
“Wait, why does it hurt here?”
She hadn’t asked, but she sensed he wanted an answer.
With a throat that felt painfully tight, Kayla swallowed hard and answered with forced cheer.
“It’s just the surprise.”
She repeated it, squeezing his arm.
“It’ll pass. You’ll feel better.”
She even pushed him with both hands, like urging a bear forward.
“Go on. Don’t forget the office key.”
***
When Kayla returned the blood-stained pajamas Owen had brought to the stove, she sat down for dinner at the flat for the first time in a while—awkward, strained, and filled with unspoken tension.
The women in the house glanced at her with knowing eyes, pitying her for her sleepwalking episode in the early dawn.
“I heard you and His Grace have been close for a long time.”
“That’s why you moved into this house, because it’s near the Maderson estate?”
She noticed Lisa’s bright orange hair and freckles standing out more than usual tonight.
Once an aspiring nun, she now ran the flat inherited from her family.
Kayla remembered the note Carlo had given her and began to speak.
“I spent time with the duke during our academy days. When he heard about my father’s death, he sent a letter from overseas, offering comfort. We began our relationship through those letters, soothing his loneliness and grief abroad. When he returned, we confirmed our feelings and decided to marry.”
(She had to chew her own flesh at that part.)
Theodora, the princess, had even blessed their future after hearing the news, though it was hard to believe at first.
Still, Kayla decided to revise the final line slightly.
“The duke already knows about my sleepwalking.”
“Ah…”
The women sighed.
“Yesterday, when I went to the Archerfield estate and saw me wandering, His Grace hurried me back. But please keep this a secret.”
Everyone nodded. Then they added comments.
People with sleepwalking are secretly taken to hospitals and locked away. Or, to treat it, they shave their heads with a razor.
Some of the women, realizing the horror of the tale, steered the conversation toward their own lives.
Landlady Lisa looked as if she was promising to do extra laundry to cover Kayla’s rent. The hairdresser Bess, a dedicated fan of Basil, kept asking only about him. Noel avoided Kayla’s eyes.
After dessert, they served Russian tea, but the taste felt different from before.
With a heavy heart, Kayla left the house and finally faced the paper knife that might be the murder weapon.