The Truth

Having decided to find the gem first to avoid inexplicably ending up as food for a mystery relic, the two began taking the matter to heart. Accompanied by Miss Valente, Lynch paid another visit to Edmond Douglas Bank.

The bank was still semi-operational, accepting only withdrawal transactions. Blue uniforms guarded the entrance, and inside, not a single customer was to be seen—only Mr. Douglas sitting with a crestfallen expression. Even his young clerk was nowhere in sight; Lynch wondered if the poor lad had been fired. Realizing this, Lynch let out a sympathetic chuckle.

This time, with a genuine grand figure by his side and backed by the commission from the Hall of Order, Mr. Douglas proved remarkably cooperative, faithfully recounting everything that had happened that day.

To be fair, Mr. Douglas possessed a strong sense of security. Every morning and evening, upon opening and closing the bank, he would check the vault and meticulously inventory the stored items. Whenever he entered during the day, he would also double-check several key valuables before leaving, ensuring maximum security.

June 5th had been no exception.

Viscount Edmond, arriving from the Kingdom of Salter with three letters of guarantee, was precisely the kind of high-profile client who received the banker’s highest level of hospitality. Mr. Douglas immediately went down to the vault to retrieve one thousand Lande pounds in cash for the viscount. As per routine, he verified before leaving the vault that the gem remained safe and sound.

While seeing the viscount to the door, Mr. Douglas happened to run into Lynch. Following a bout of mockery from the viscount, the two returned to the private room to talk in secret for five minutes, raising his monthly withdrawal limit to three thousand Lande pounds. Only then did the viscount take his leave, satisfied. By that time, Lynch had already left the bank.

Since there were several other withdrawal appointments scheduled for that day, the banker re-entered the vault shortly after the viscount’s departure to check whether the remaining cash was sufficient.

As it turned out, there was no issue with the cash, but the gem was gone. Yet the safe box remained securely locked, as though the gem had vanished into thin air.

Because Lynch and Viscount Edmond were the only outsiders who had visited the bank during that entire period, Mr. Douglas and his clerks naturally pinned the blame on Lynch, placing their utmost trust in Viscount Edmond—a stance that remained unchanged even now.

Of course, trust was one thing, but cooperation was another. The banker went so far as to lead the two of them on a thorough inspection of the bank’s vault.

Though it couldn't match the security of Madam Bessie’s enclosed space—which relied on a mystery relic for access—the bank’s vault was still remarkably secure. Located in the basement, all six sides were cast from reinforced iron plates, encased outside by thick brick walls. A lift led directly from the bank to the vault, and its cast-iron main door utilized the most advanced lock technology of the day, guarded year-round by two security personnel stationed at the entrance.

Inside were rows of individual locked deposit boxes. Through the glass doors, the items stored within could be clearly seen. For this era, the security measures were exceptionally sound; by all accounts, nothing should have gone wrong.

Having noted down all the information and completed a full inspection, Lynch wasted no more time. He returned to his agency with Miss Valente, slipping into the second-floor living room under a glare from the landlady that sent a cold shiver down his neck.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the floral-patterned glass window, illuminating the second-floor living room of 221 Villa Avenue. The warm light cast delicate floral shadows onto Miss Valente's long gown, as though scattering a cascade of tiny petals across her dress.

Mrs. Maggie had tidied the living room impeccably, filling the space with the subtle, elegant fragrance of lavender. Outside, the crisp chime of horse bells from speeding carriages drifted in through the window, softening into a soothing, melodic refrain.

The quiet afternoon felt immensely cozy and warm, completely dispelling the bone-chilling dread stirred up earlier by the information from the Archaeological Association and lulling one into a lazy, drowsy bliss.

Miss Valente, however, was far from drowsy. She sat demurely on the sofa in the living room, holding her folding fan with refined grace to cover her lips. Her striking eyes flickered as she quietly gazed at Lynch's focused profile, a subtle emotion glinting within her lucid eyes.

Lynch stood before the memo board beside the fireplace, a pipe in one hand and his chin pinched between his fingers. His gaze was locked onto the board in deep concentration, entirely oblivious to the look directed at him from the side. Whenever he turned his head to speak, that subtle gaze instantly reverted to something poised and composed, leaving not a trace of anything amiss.

It really was just a routine discussion about the case. Truly.

“Chloe Russell, Princess of Salter, owner of Flaming Red Lips.”

Lynch wrote Princess Chloe's identity on the memo board. With his pipe between his teeth and his eyes narrowed, he mused aloud:

“She returned from the Kingdom of Salter three months ago, then immediately deposited Flaming Red Lips in Mr. Douglas’s vault under the guise of security. The storage fee was one Lande pound per day... hss...”

Just the storage fee alone amounted to over a hundred pounds. Lynch felt a sudden, sharp ache in his chest, choked by the sheer extravagance.

Lynch's exaggerated expression drew a knowing smile from the noblewoman. She said softly:

“The vault at Edmond Douglas Bank is indeed exceptional—not at all inferior to those in the royal capital. It's no wonder so many people choose to store their valuables there. In terms of overall security, there is nothing to fault.”

Lynch nodded. “Only that viscount and I visited the bank. Unless I start suspecting myself as the thief, the most likely culprit is the viscount who came loaded with trickery artifacts. In fact, even without relying on that silhouette, I strongly suspect Her Highness the Princess is connected to the thief.”

“Mhm, it certainly is suspicious. Anyone who can run a bank is no fool, nor do they lack experience reading human nature—otherwise, they would have gone bankrupt long ago.”

Miss Valente rose gracefully and stood shoulder to shoulder with Lynch, gazing at the clue board ahead. Her faint fragrance brought a sense of calm to his mind as she continued:

“Tricking Mr. Douglas with just a signature-falsifying mystery relic and three letters of guarantee would be virtually impossible—especially when dealing with a major banker he had prior dealings with. The thief had to perform impeccably, getting as close to reality as humanly possible. To achieve that, the thief needed an intimate understanding of those three bankers, along with flawless noble deportment. That isn't something that can be pulled off with a few days of hasty training like last night. Moreover, Princess Chloe's mother happens to be the daughter of one of those bankers, a key figure representing Salter's banking industry. She naturally possesses everything required to satisfy those conditions. So, we're almost certainly not accusing her wrongfully.”

“Then let's assume for now that even if the thief wasn't the princess herself, it was someone sent by her, and Flaming Red Lips is in her hands.” Lynch nodded thoughtfully, writing the name Howard Hoffman on the board. “Grant said himself that the one close to Chloe isn't him, but Mayor Howard. I strongly suspect he's the one colluding with Chloe behind the scenes regarding Flaming Red Lips.”

“Their relationship...”

“In theory, they are linked by the Norin-Rhine Railway. The princess represents the investors from Salter's banking syndicate, while the mayor represents the project organizers.”

“Then it makes perfect sense for them to be in contact—it might not necessarily be for the gem. However, if it were merely that kind of business relationship, Grant wouldn't have gone out of his way to point it out. I fear there truly is a darker secret between them that cannot be exposed.”

Miss Valente's mind was exceptionally sharp. She easily connected the dots, quickly keeping pace with Lynch's logic and helping him reason it through:

“However, Howard's status is far too low. He couldn't possibly hold sway over Chloe, let alone force her to resort to such schemes to hide the gem. Even the Valente family couldn't push her to that extent.”

“I thought so too, until I heard Grant mention something just now.” Lynch let out a bitter laugh, wiping away all the notes on the board before continuing softly, “Their connection is tied together by the railway. But what if we trace that connection a little further? He said the person overseeing the overall coordination of the Norin-Rhine Railway is actually His Highness the First Prince of the Kingdom of Lande. Is that identity powerful enough to drive the Princess of Salter and the Count of Lorand to play tricks behind the scenes?”

Miss Valente's expression froze. Both of them felt a chill in their palms, as if they had stumbled upon a deeply hidden corner of darkness.

“We mustn't leap to wild conclusions, Mr. Lynch. Do you realize what it means when someone with a claim to the throne is involved? If a person of that status harbors ill intentions toward the mirror, regardless of his reason or motive, it is an exceedingly dangerous affair.”

“That's why we need to verify whether it's true or false first,” Lynch lowered his voice involuntarily. “We'll go to the Black Cat Theater this evening. Countess Hathaway said news travels fast there. I'll see if I can dig up any more leads from that place. Perhaps I've finally figured out why those two old fellows gave me that commission in the first place.”