Chapter 29: Gossip About Miss Menielman’s Transfer

Charlot accompanied Sylvie Martin on an outing. He carried no firearms, bringing only a newly customized alchemical cane.

This alchemical cane had a simple yet elegant design. Crafted from an extremely rare type of wood, it was lightweight, resilient, and elastic. Dozens of silver stars adorned its surface, forged from the scabbard of an ancient sword from the Sherlock dynasty. When swung, it created a dazzling silver glow that Charlot particularly enjoyed.

It was not a magical item but had been treated with alchemical techniques to enhance its durability.

Wood, no matter how sturdy, could be prone to cracking after being embedded with so many silver stars. However, the alchemical treatment rendered it flexible enough to rival steel.

A good cane was not only a luxurious, practical weapon but also a gentleman’s favorite accessory, widely popular across all nations of the Old Continent.

Lately, Charlot’s financial situation had improved. Originally, he intended to use the scabbard to craft a magical rapier but abandoned the idea when he learned the price exceeded his budget. Instead, he commissioned the creation of this alchemical cane, which cost one flor and twelve centimes.

After all, he wasn’t skilled in swordsmanship, and wielding a cane wasn’t much different from using a rapier.

Sylvie Martin, walking alongside her former fiancé as they left 58 Elysée Avenue, felt slightly apprehensive.

Charlot chose the first restaurant they came across and secured a window seat, skillfully ordering two dishes.

The cuisine of the Fars Empire was quite unique. Unlike the Chinese-style single dishes, meals were served as set menus.

Each dish consisted of a main course, side dish, accompaniment, paired wine, dessert, soup, and other components. Even the simplest menu offered at least five items, with wine and soup being essential.

This particular restaurant was of decent quality. Charlot ordered lamb chops, croissants, potato wedges, mushroom soup, sparkling apple cider, several pieces of roasted chicken, and a vegetable platter—a substantial meal, typical of a gentleman’s choice.

For Sylvie, he ordered a dessert-focused dish with cheese, a selection of biscuits, and a serving of milk tea—a typical lady’s menu.

Charlot was quite hungry. The two ate in silence, without engaging in conversation.

After the meal, Charlot paid the bill and purchased a few bottles of wine. His new home lacked everything, including a proper stock of alcohol. The sparkling apple cider tasted excellent, so he bought more.

As was his usual practice, Charlot didn’t take the wine with him immediately. Instead, he instructed the restaurant to deliver it later to 58 Elysée Avenue.

The two left the restaurant and soon found a general store.

After purchasing the items Sylvie Martin needed, Charlot also bought twenty pounds of kerosene. He had been spending many late nights researching his diary, which consumed a significant amount of fuel for his illumination lamp.

After paying, Charlot once again arranged for the delivery of the items and returned home with Miss Sylvie.

Remembering his current “romantic entanglement,” Charlot, despite not having clarified his relationship with Annie Bretagne, decided it was prudent to prepare. He stopped Sylvie, who was about to head upstairs, and said with a slight smile, “Miss Sylvie, I’d like to ask you for a favor. During this period, could you address me as your cousin? You know how people talk about a man and woman living under the same roof, and such rumors could be more detrimental to your reputation than mine.”

“Certainly, Cousin Charlot.”

Without giving him a chance to explain further, Sylvie readily agreed and hurried upstairs.

The young woman had no qualms about choosing the largest bedroom on the second floor. Located at the far end, it had three bright windows, a private washing area, and a massive built-in wardrobe.

The room’s original bed, made of solid materials, had been left behind because it was too bulky to move.

For a young girl, the room was nearly perfect, aside from the slight unease caused by its spaciousness.

Standing at the south-facing window, Sylvie gazed out at the scenic Lukavaro River, her heart swelling with courage.

She gently clenched her fist and murmured, “A new life, here I come.”

A young girl’s heart is always brimming with dreams of a radiant future.

About ten minutes later, Charlot knocked softly on her door. “The deliveryman from the general store is here.”

Sylvie opened the door, and the deliveryman carried in the items, placing them where she directed.

Throughout the process, Charlot stood at the door without stepping inside, maintaining a gentlemanly demeanor.

This left Sylvie slightly puzzled about her former fiancé.

The Charlot Mecklenburg she remembered wasn’t like this.

This wasn’t like Charlot at all.

Once the deliverymen had finished and left, Charlot politely bid farewell to Sylvie. He escorted the men downstairs, secured the door latch, and returned to his third-floor suite.

Charlot had chosen a suite near the staircase on the eastern end. It consisted of a bedroom, study, washroom, and living room. From the living room, one could step out onto a terrace overlooking Elysée Avenue. The terrace spanned the eastern and western ends, with waist-high short walls and access to the entrances of all five suites.

The south-facing side of the terrace, however, was not continuous, offering each suite its own private outdoor area. From his south-facing terrace, Charlot could enjoy tea while admiring the picturesque Lukavaro River.

Lying on an old sofa left by the previous landlord, Charlot silently calculated his finances.

“I started with five écus, sold the multi-headed flail for seventy-five écus, won thirteen écus at cards, and received five hundred fifty écus from my brother. After deducting the fifty écus for the house down payment, I still have…”

“Five hundred ninety-three écus!”

“That’s quite a sum.”

“Research on the Agmirlas Labyrinth hasn’t been going well lately. Even the professors at my alma mater, Sheffield University, know little about this overseas labyrinth. I should invest in some materials or consult with labyrinthology experts.”

The next morning, as usual, Charlot went to work at Kilmainham Prison.

Shortly after entering his office, an unexpected visitor arrived—Mrs. Pascal, the reception secretary.

She brought startling news, leaning in to speak quietly. “Miss Menielman may be transferred out of Kilmainham Prison, removed from her position as warden, and reassigned to the military.”

Charlot was stunned by this revelation.

Since that day, Miss Menielman had not returned to Kilmainham Prison. While Charlot appreciated the kind treatment from the Empire’s First Rose and his mentor, the warden, he couldn’t help feeling relieved at the prospect of not having to work overtime every day.

However, there was a vast difference between her temporary absence and her permanent departure. As one of Menielman’s close associates, Charlot’s career relied heavily on her support. If she left, his prospects would be bleak.

Mrs. Pascal wasn’t merely spreading gossip. She fixed Charlot with an intense stare, clearly waiting for a response.

Though not particularly adept at office politics, Charlot quickly realized that Mrs. Pascal was fishing for information. The news about Miss Menielman’s potential reassignment was merely a probe.

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