The Caged Crow

Ruby flung his beak wide open.

Oh, merciful heavens!

There, on the coffee table nearby, sat a mountain of peanuts—roasted peanuts, no less!

「P-p-PEANUTS!」

Caw! Forgetting entirely that he was on a covert mission, Ruby hopped up and down in place, overjoyed.

「Oh, YES! Peanuts! Peanuts! Peanuts!」

He darted straight for the table and began greedily stuffing peanuts into his beak. As the plate grew steadily lighter, it at last reached a certain weight—and the rope threaded beneath it went racing through its pulleys.

That rope was connected to a steel cage suspended from the ceiling.

Even as the clunk rang out, Ruby was still savoring his peanuts. Only when he found himself trapped inside the cage that had dropped onto the table did he shriek in alarm.

“…….”

Davion, who had been lying in bed like a corpse, pushed back the covers and slowly rose.

Gazing down at the crow flapping and squawking furiously inside the cage, he finally allowed himself a victor's smile.

“Gotcha.”

1-5. An Unspeakable Secret

Davion hadn't slept a wink.

It was all thanks to the crow, which had thrashed and shrieked all night in its attempts to break out of the cage. At present, that same crow was perched atop the office desk, clacking its beak indignantly and glaring daggers at him.

No wonder, really—it was, after all, the crow Cecilia had raised. Its rebellious posture was quite impressive.

When Davion held out a peanut with a pair of tweezers, Ruby let out another shriek and batted it away with his beak.

“Refuse to eat, and you're the only one who loses. Starving yourself won't get you released.”

Davion delivered this ultimatum, picked up the fallen peanut, and offered it again—but the result was the same.

Perhaps proud of having made a human bend at the waist twice on his account, Ruby spread his wings as wide as they would go within the cage that barely fit his frame and cackled—kya-kya-kya—in apparent delight.

Liam, of course, had known about Cecilia's true identity and the animals she kept all along. Even so, he seemed far from convinced that Davion's plan would work.

“Do you truly believe this method will bring Her Ladyship home?”

“I'm told she raised the bird like her own child from the moment it hatched. She may not come now, but sooner or later—once she learns I have it—she'll come for it. She wouldn't leave the city without this bird.”

When Ruby knocked away the peanut a third time, Davion finally gave up on picking it up. Tossing the tweezers into the drawer that held his revolver, he said flatly:

“Then starve.”

Ruby couldn't understand the words, but he grasped their meaning well enough. Only then did his bravado wilt, and he blinked his little go-stone eyes meekly.

Just then, the telephone rang.

Liam reached for it out of habit, but Davion hastily threw out an arm to stop him.

“It'll be my mother.”

His prediction proved correct. The moment he picked up the receiver, a firm woman's voice bored into his ear.

“It's a baseless rumor, Mother.”

Some five seconds of silence drifted through the receiver.

Before answering, Blake heaved out a long, dragging sigh—one that carried more weary resignation than relief.

“I don't intend to publish a correction for the time being. I mean to catch whoever spread the rumor first.”

“Yes, Mother.”

When Davion told his shameless bare-faced lie without so much as blinking, Liam gave him a thumbs-up from the side. Then Ruby began shrieking again, and he hastily threw a black cloth over the cage.

“The rites… I plan to wait a little longer before holding them.”

Unable to come up with an excuse, Davion swallowed a groan. Liam, having confirmed the cage had gone quiet, whispered a suggested line from beside him. This time it was Davion who raised his thumb.

“I still haven't caught that criminal I mentioned to you before. Lately I've been occupied with inspecting the city personally.”

“I have to write my report for parliament in March as well. So I'm moving about in person, killing two birds with one stone.”

Davion could picture the expression on Blake's face perfectly.

She must be sneering at him something fierce. Blake had always had a strong instinct for controlling others, and it often made her family deeply uncomfortable.

Cecilia above all had been terrified of her. He could still see it clearly—the way she had practically bounced on her toes, wound tight with nerves, every single day Blake came to visit.

With that, the call ended.

Despite staying up the entire night, Davion's complexion was brighter than usual. No doubt it was because hope, in the shape of a jet-black bird, had finally landed in the palm of his hand.

Until a visitor drove up and knocked on the mansion's front gate, he spent the morning cleaning Cecilia's bedroom, humming a tune for the first time in months. Somewhere along the way, he found himself pleasantly lost in the thought of refurbishing the little cottage where she had once lived with her grandmother.

She would love it, without question. The cottage was brimming with memories of just the two of them—she might even take it for a surprise gift.

It still infuriated him that she had deceived him and run away. But he had no intention of hurting her or scolding her for it. If he scolded her, she might just tuck herself away and hide somewhere again. And then he wouldn't be able to hold her, to touch her…

Ah.

I'm going out of my mind missing you.

“Open the door! If you don't come out this instant, I'm coming in!”

He had watched the familiar black coupe cross the front gate from the window. By the time Davion locked Cecilia's bedroom door and came downstairs, Julian was bellowing and pounding his fists against the front entrance.

“Welcome.”

This once, Davion greeted his guest himself, without delegating the task to Liam.

“I heard the news and drove five hours to get here…”

Julian, his dark-brown hair thoroughly mussed, was holding a large paper box in both hands. Looking Davion up and down as the man gripped the door handle, he said:

“You look awfully healthy.”

“Naturally. It was a false rumor.”

Swinging the door wide open, Davion added by way of excuse to Julian, whose face read utterly ridiculous:

“I suspect my investors were the ones spreading it.”

“Well, it happens. My wife went through something similar once. Influenza, that time, rather than smallpox? Truly vile business.”

“Tell me about it.”

The House of Sisldown, the ducal line from which the Winterhall counts descended, had for centuries been a military family and a dynasty of landowners. Davion's great-great-grandfather had been a general of historic distinction, and in his lifetime held a total of six titles, governing a dominion of staggering scale.

Though the dynasty changed and new policies cost the family part of its territory, the House of Sisldown remained among the great landholders. A little over a decade ago, the Duke of Sisldown left the family of his own accord for reasons of his own, and Davion inherited the farmland the duke had owned.

Davion leased that farmland to those who needed it, or sold parcels to the railway companies to generate revenue.

The money thus earned went mostly into government bonds, and occasionally into shares of overseas trading companies. Which was precisely why the rumor laid at the feet of his investors had carried more than a whiff of plausibility.

Not, of course, that it was anything but a lie now.

“It was meant to be a surprise visit, but had I known, I'd have called ahead. I even brought you a get-well gift.”

Julian pressed the box he was carrying into Davion's arms.

“This is…?”

Davion froze in shock. Something inside the ventilated box was squirming.

A living creature?

Unable to bring himself to open it, he shot Julian a look that demanded an explanation. His friend shrugged and said, with unmistakable pride:

“Paid a fortune for it. They say it's descended from a cat once kept by the royal family.”

“A cat?”

“If you're curious, open it and see for yourself.”

Since when do I want a cat? Davion was scowling at Julian when a sound suddenly rose from inside the box, and he panicked outright.

Because the Duke of Sisldown had once enjoyed hunting, Davion had kept dogs before—but a cat was another matter entirely. Remembering the strays that darted along the mansion's garden walls, he carefully lifted the lid of the box.

The cat inside, however, looked nothing like what he had expected.