âWow, really? Should I be thankful? Should I swoon in gratitude?â
âYou could say, itâs a type of research for me.â
âIf someone volunteers to be a research subject, they get compensated. So, could I receive my fees too?â
He ignored my retorts and smiled awkwardly. âYou donât feel a pang of guilt for your actions, do you? But you donât think youâre enforcing justice for society, or doing something heroic, either. Itâs just something you do⦠for something. Just like how quarantine workers get rid of rats and cockroaches.â
Is that it? It must be something similar. A long time ago, it was something enjoyable, but now it has just become my occupation. âIs that so?â
âI think youâre a psychopath.â
I titled my head and looked at him, frowning. I couldnât tell if he was serious or just joking. âSure, detective,â I said, âCould you also enlighten us on the definition of the word? What is a psychopath? Someone who goes around killing people?â
âNo,â said the Grand Duke. âNot necessarily. Psychopaths have antisocial personality disorder. They lack the ability to empathize with others. You might even say they have the absence of a conscience. They abhor boring things. They always look for something to challenge and stimulate them. They are excellent at deceiving others and are good speakers. Most times, they can be very charming.â
Psychopaths⦠the description fits me well.
âSince only 15% of the frontal lobe that controls emotions is activated in psychopaths, some argue that itâs innate. But itâs still under research.â
âThatâs interesting. Psychopaths. Isnât there some drama with them in it?â
âI donât really watch dramas, so I donât know.â He looked at me calmly. âNot all psychopaths become serial killers. Such cases are very rare. Many of them lead normal, ordinary lives, even if theyâre psychopaths. But you have chosen the worst path.â
He said it was my fault. I smirked. âItâs a relief that I didnât turn out like the rest. Because now I can be a part of your research material, detective. Donât contact me again. Who would consult a marmot for crimes?â
Anger, irritation. All the feelings that had been suppressed for a long time surged up. I let go of the stupid boyâs chunk and pushed him with my fist. He fell back to the ground and groaned as both of his hands covered the thing between his legs, whimpering.
âOh, stop making a fuss! I didnât even twist it enough to hurt you.â
I suppressed the urge to kick him. The boy wasnât my target. The one I desperately wanted to kick was leaning against the marble statue in the garden and looking at me with a strange smile on his face. I realized why he looked so familiar. The ambiguous smile, the flat gazeâ¦
I stopped right in front of the Duke of Glouster. His appearance had completely changed but I knew who he was. I should have known. Butâ¦
I took half a step back. Isnât this strange? Did I really have a mental breakdown like my brothers said? How was it that the people who lived together in one lifetime were born in the same world together again? How is it possible that they would recognize each other? What was the probability of something like this happening?
âSince when did you know? Your past,â he asked.
I frowned, staring at the Grand Duke. âNot that long. You?â
âIâve known it since I was young. Always thought I was crazy. Everybody thought that. Even my mother.â
I raised my eyebrows. âThe late king?â
He only gave a curt nod. Wow. My brothers thought me brazen but they havenât called me crazy yet or treated me differently. Only Aaron ignored me a little, but he ignored everyone when his nose was in his book.
The Grand Dukeâs answer clarified everything for me. I had no doubts anymore that this was real. I wasnât having a mental breakdown. This wasnât something psychological. I glared at the Grand Duke, then turned to the boy who was still on the floor.
âIf you ever cross me again. I wonât let you go so easily,â I said. âAnd when you approach any other girl with your vileness, remember that I will cut your tongue and feed it to the dogs. If thatâs clear, why donât you get lost now? Your face is making me sick.â
The boy struggled to his feet and disappeared into the darkness along the path between beautifully trimmed. The Grand Duke, a detective in his past life, an insufferable human being, just tilted his head and looked at me.
âIf Iâm honest, I thought youâd kill him.â
âIâm sorry to disappoint you. But I have got a lot to lose in this life.â
Well, if he hadnât turned up, the boy would have gone home with a few cuts and bruises. But hey, thatâs just part of growing up! I had secretly slipped a small knife that I used to cut meat under my clothes.
Amy was puzzled when I had asked her to leave a gap between the folds of my skirt, like a pocket. But she had asked no questions. The gap had turned out to be very useful. Oh, why, do the d*mn dresses not have pockets! I had decided right then and there to have my clothes stitched in this fashion.
âLike your brothers? Your family?â
âTheyâre very precious to me.â
âDoes your family know you killed Count Thoreau?â He asked with a sly smile.
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