Fortunately, he had been wearing casual clothes on the day of the assassination attempt. With that gash across the chest, the garment was definitely ruined. If it had been the tailored suit endowed with mystical properties, Lynch probably wouldn't have been able to sleep for years.
On the morning of June 30, Lynch stood in the small ground-floor parlor of 221 Villa Avenue, dressed in the suit handcrafted by Master Christian, admiring his reflection in the mirror with immense satisfaction.
“How can someone be this handsome? This has completely surpassed human limits.”
Mrs. Maggie, her blonde hair pinned up, was holding a steaming hot iron and gently pulling the hem of Lynch's jacket to steam it, her expression focused as tiny beads of sweat formed on the tip of her nose. Little Martha had not left for school yet; she lay on her stomach on the sofa with her chin propped in her hands, kicking her little feet back and forth.
“Mom, hurry and burn him with the iron! His shamelessness has surpassed human limits.”
The little girl giggled with utter carefree delight. Ever since she learned she wouldn't die young, it felt as though a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders over the past few days. The gloom that used to constantly linger between her brows had vanished, and her big blue eyes were brimming with pure joy.
Hm? Oops, I forgot you two were right next to me and exposed my true nature. But even if you're happy, that's no excuse for personal attacks—especially physical ones.
Lynch muttered inwardly, shooting the little brat a fierce glare as he made a gesture of smacking a bottom.
Immediately afterward, Mrs. Maggie slapped the back of his misbehaving hand, prompting a burst of teasing laughter from little Martha.
“Mom, that's enough already. You've never ironed my clothes so carefully.”
“Mr. Lynch is attending a ball tonight, so of course he has to be dressed impeccably,” the blonde lady said with a gentle smile, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “That's a ball at the Governor's Mansion, far grander than the foreign princess's reception last time. We must ensure everything is perfect so Mr. Lynch doesn't lose face in front of all those gentlemen, ladies, and misses.”
“There's no need to be so nervous, Mrs. Maggie.” Seeing Mrs. Maggie today was still slightly awkward, but the beautiful blonde woman acted as though nothing had happened, which helped Lynch relax as well. He chuckled softly and said, “Although tonight's ball is a grand affair, it won't be overly stiff. I hear His Grace the Duke specifically invited twenty civilian representatives, so the atmosphere shouldn't be too rigid.”
“Civilian representatives, too? Then they are truly lucky.” Mrs. Maggie's voice sounded a bit wistful.
“What? Is it really that big of a deal? It's just a ball, not much to look forward to.”
“Of course it's special—it's the Governor's Mansion! Most people in this city never get the chance to step foot inside in their entire lives, let alone dance there as an invited guest.” Mrs. Maggie sighed and shook her head gently. “Mr. Lynch, you are a capable man. Whether it's a foreign princess or the Governor himself, they proactively write letters of invitation to you in advance. You wouldn't understand how rare and precious that is for ordinary citizens like us in King District. I can't speak for men, but what woman hasn't dreamed of wearing her most beautiful dress and dancing in the Governor's Mansion? That is an experience to cherish until the day you die—just once would make others envious for a lifetime. You can ask Martha whether she shares that dream.”
The little girl didn't answer. She merely rested her chin in her hands and gazed out the window with dreamy eyes, her small face filled with longing.
“All right, I thought invitations were easy to come by. Who knows, maybe Duke Vane is dressed in a big red suit with a long white beard, sliding down chimneys to hand them out door-to-door, and anyone who gets one is obliged to go.”
“How absurd! If you put it like that, how am I supposed to daydream anymore?” Mrs. Maggie gave Lynch a reproachful glare, smoothed out the very last wrinkle, and let out a soft, wistful sigh. “Actually, I know it's just a fantasy, but... having you go in on behalf of my daughter and me to see it all is already enough to satisfy us. Make sure you take a good look and tell us all about it when you get back, so I have something to brag about when chatting with the neighbors.”
“Mm, I'll try, but that might not be necessary.”
Identical expressions of disappointment and melancholy appeared on the two similar faces, and little Martha even pouted discreetly. Although Mrs. Maggie did not know why Lynch would say that, she considerately refrained from prying. Stepping back to inspect Lynch's posture, she stepped forward again to help place the freshly brushed top hat on his head, finally nodding in satisfaction.
“Now it's perfect. Well then, we wish you—”
“Stop, stop, stop, it's way too early for that.” Having undergone special training from Miss Valente, Lynch was well versed in these matters. “Balls are always held in the evening. Guests only begin arriving in the afternoon, and if you don't want to socialize early, you can just show up at night. Who heads out first thing in the morning?”
“Right, we don't know anything about these things...”
“Ding-dong, ding-dong.”
The apartment's doorbell rang.
The mother and daughter paused in surprise. Why would someone come calling so early? They hadn't scheduled any maintenance workers for today.
“I'll go check. Martha, stop dawdling and get ready for school. You're always so sluggish whenever it's time to leave the house—you do nothing all day, but the moment we need to head out, every distraction under the sun pops up. Hurry it up, or your Uncle Lynch will give you a spanking.”
Nagging as she went, the landlady gathered the hem of her homewear gown and trotted out in small steps.
What does your mother-daughter bickering have to do with me? Am I some kind of monster used to scare children?
Even as he thought that, the smile with which Lynch watched Mrs. Maggie leave carried a peculiar glint.
Hehehe...
When he withdrew his gaze and turned around, he was met with a face right up close.
What on earth?
Startled, Lynch leaned back to put some distance between them, only to realize that little Martha was practically pressing her face against his, staring at him with deep suspicion.
Without another word, he grabbed her, pinned her across his knee, and gave her bottom two smacks. The little rascal was completely unfazed; she scrambled up, continued staring at Lynch for a moment, and then mused thoughtfully, “Why do I feel like you and Mom have suddenly gotten really weird? Did something happen that I don't know about?”
???
Were all children in this world so perceptive?
How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Your mom wanted me to become your formal father, but I declined?
If I dared say that out loud, I probably wouldn't be attending any events tonight.
“Probably because Mrs. Maggie has been so happy these past few days.” Lynch tousled little Martha's golden hair. “Aren't you acting weird too? You haven't stopped grinning from ear to ear.”
“Mm!” Little Martha was instantly distracted, nodding vigorously with a radiant smile before suddenly grabbing Lynch's hand and biting down on it. “Mmm, fank yoo, Unkuh Winch.”
Hey now, are you a dog? Who taught you to show gratitude like that? Have them show their face right now—if I let them live to see tonight's red moon, I'll take your last name.
Just as the two fools were roughhousing together, a scream suddenly echoed from the foyer.
It was Mrs. Maggie's scream.
Little Martha's face changed, and she bounded off the sofa in an instant, dashing toward the door.
“Mom! Mom, are you okay? Don't scare me!”
Lynch, on the other hand, was in no rush. He stood up leisurely, picked up his cane, and followed behind.
“Martha, you know more words than me. Help me look—am I seeing things?”
“What is it, Mom? You scared me to death! It's just a letter, what is there to... Aaaah!”
Another scream rang out, making Lynch feel as if he were listening to a musical chord.
Walking over, he saw little Martha clutching a card, letting out a shriek that sounded like some mysterious creature. Beside her, Mrs. Maggie crouched next to her daughter, peering at the card in Martha's hands and rereading the text over and over in disbelief.
It was a thick, silver bifold card. The front bore no text, only a golden crest of a shield and longsword that covered nearly the entire surface—the family crest of the Vane family, Governors of the Rhine Duchy in the Kingdom of Lande.
Opening the card revealed several lines of vigorous, handwritten calligraphy:
“Cordially inviting residents of 221 Villa Avenue, King District, Mrs. Maggie Hudson and Miss Martha Hudson, as citizen representatives, to attend the reception ball hosted by Princess Sophia Ross and Duke Locke de Vane at the Duke's Mansion at seven o'clock on the evening of June 30. Your presence is requested; the Governor's Mansion awaits the honor of your company.
Respectfully, Locke de Vane.”
“Like I said, someone in a big red suit with a long white beard would be going around handing out invitations as gifts.”
Mrs. Maggie's chest heaved as her breathing grew rapid and her lips trembled. She looked at the invitation, looked at her daughter, and then looked at Lynch's smile.
Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted on the spot.
Rate on N.U.
