“I can’t fathom why,” I said, struggling to comprehend. “Even if there’s a throne at stake, is there really a reason to despise your own younger brother to that extent? I just don’t get it.”
He shrugged indifferently. “If I knew the reason, I would have resolved it. But sometimes people don’t need a logical reason to like or dislike someone,” he explained with a smile. “You didn’t have a logical reason to like me, did you? I was a middle-aged man with a pot belly.”
“But you didn’t have a pot belly,” I retorted.
He chuckled at my response. “So you like me for no reason too, huh?” he teased. “I love you with a heart that doesn’t make any logical sense.”
I couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy at his declaration. Was it really something to boast about? A heart that didn’t make sense sounded a bit unsettling to me.
But I knew I had to steer the conversation away from such topics before I got drawn into his pace once again. “Anyway, let’s focus on finding the culprit. I have a good idea on how to catch them,” I said.
He gave me a knowing look but didn’t interrupt. Instead, he encouraged me to continue.
“I’m placing an ad in A Week in Schway,” I announced.
“An ad?” Leon repeated.
“Yes, they post ads for employers and employees. I’ll make a big advertisement that says ‘I’m the murderer.'”
“Are you trying to hog the spotlight?” he asked, catching on to my plan.
I nodded. “Displaying the corpse like that was a message to someone. It was a way of showing off. If someone is like that, they won’t just sit back and let someone else take credit for their work. They’ll react in some way. The more violent the reaction, the higher the chances of them making a mistake. And that’s how we’ll catch the criminal.”
As I suggested the plan to Leon, he immediately brought up the potential risks of exposing the newspaper office. “But if we do that, the newspapers will be the first to be exposed,” he warned. “The guards will swarm the office, demanding to know who put up the ad.”
“That’s true, but do we even know where the newspaper office is?” Leo
“Who owns it, where they print the newspaper, and where all the money goes? Our family doesn’t know much about it, and I doubt any noble does either.” Leon raised his eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
“Who owns it, where they print the newspaper, and where all the money goes? Our family doesn’t know much about it, and I doubt any noble does either.”
Leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he fell into deep thought. “I’ve never heard anything about the owner or office,” he admitted.
“It could be any pub that they use to send information. They wouldn’t want to be associated with nobles or the royal family. Even if we publish the ad, I doubt anyone will find the office. However, I’m not sure if they will actually place the ad…” I muttered.
“I’ll take the risk,” Leon decided. “If something like that is published, everyone will be talking about the newspaper, and there’s no better business. Regardless of the truth, I will publish it.”
Leon looked at me with a serious expression. “But you know someone else could die, right?” he asked.
I was taken aback by his question. “Are you asking me now?” I retorted. “I may be young, but I’m not naive about the ways of the world. What’s a few more deaths?”
Leon responded, “But you’re not the one doing the killing. Keep in mind that the target is a noble. It could be someone you know who dies.”
“I did know Lady Irvin who died last time, but it didn’t really affect me. Even seeing her husband’s shocked face for a moment wasn’t a big deal.”
I felt uneasy about my lack of empathy towards Lady Irvin’s death, but I pushed the thought aside. We weren’t that close, so it wouldn’t matter who died.
“Okay, I’ll look into it and decide what to write,” Leon said.
We shook hands, and I advised, “Make the content vulgar and meaningless, like a ruthless killer. Write about how women are disgusting and deserving of punishment, and then express your anger at the fact that your terrifying and sophisticated murders are being ignored. You can still think of it as art, though.”
“I’ll handle it myself. It’ll be easier for me to manage than for you,” he replied.
I tilted my head and whispered, “Isn’t your brother monitoring you?”
“I’ve been monitored for over half my life. I know how to get away with it,” he said with a smirk.