(Like the north and south, about 7 hours later, almost noon, I arrived at the place since leaving at 4 am. I thought it was just an ordinary two-story house, but it turned out to be a mansion.)
Cake’s black car was immediately instructed to turn and take an uphill route. The uphill path led it to the entrance of a large mansion. Cake was surprised to see three people waiting on the terrace. Two individuals
wearing the same clothes made Cake believe that the one wearing different attire was the message sender.
Cake’s german-made black car stopped right in front of the terrace in a horizontal position. Cake rolled down the car window. Someone approached and opened the car door.
"Sorry to bother you suddenly," said the short-haired woman with curly brown hair, her yellow-green cat-like eyes glancing sharply. "There's a garage at the back, let's park this beauty there." Agnes's hand caressed the car dashboard as if it were a child's head.
Cake immediately stepped on the gas and raised the side window again.
"Who is that elderly lady, Agnes?" Cake turned the steering wheel to the left.
Agnes, the woman referred to, turned her face towards the window, her eyes looking in the opposite direction to Cake. She didn't seem too interested.
"Oh, she used to be in the military in the kitchen department. But due to a shortage of people during the confrontation in Africa, she was forced to be deployed to the front line. After working for 40 years, she finally retired. Well, in the end, she decided to become Lady De Polcester's servant and guard. Mildie O'Svendanetine, just call her Mildsven. That's all I know," explained Agnes.
Agnes asked Cake to stop for a moment, then she got out of the car to open the trunk. The car was parked next to another vehicle. Cake got out and closed the trunk again.
"Why is someone like her in this place, Agnes? What about you, why did you come here?" Cake asked insistently. But Agnes, with her robot-like expressionless face, chose to avert her gaze and only let her eyes glance.
"An addition...," Agnes replied briefly.
"An addition? What is this really about?"
Agnes ignored the question and kept walking.
(Indeed, that's how Agnes is. Her attitude is like a robot, explaining things according to what she deems necessary. As for the elderly lady with broad shoulders, I also sense a slightly eerie aura. In the end, my assumption may be correct. This is an important and urgent matter.)
"Thank you for coming early, Monsieur Cake. Let's discuss it inside." The pale and weak hands, reaching out to shake Cake's right hand. Dark circles resembling signs of insomnia surrounded her eyes.
"Y-yes, Lady De Polcester," Cake replied, widening a thin smile. It was the first time Cake felt the presence of an abnormal being. It was like an empty shell devoid of its animating soul.
123Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUAeTbY6hMT
"Fogarty De Polcester. Call me whatever you like," Lady De Polcester said, briefly turning and immediately entering the villa.
After Aunt Mildsven gave her permission, Cake entered the place. The door closed behind her, locked by Lady De Polcester.
(Lady De Polcester, an elegant woman among a million others that makes her unique. Clearly soulless, empty, and resigned. Her voice is soothing, maternal, and full of certainty. She's the type of woman whom I can't casually make dirty jokes with; she's a woman to be respected.)
(Fogarty De Polcester, a woman who represents perseverance. From her hands, the gaze in her eyes, and the texture of her facial skin, I feel that she has experienced unimaginable battlefields. Multiple times, she must have endured tangible wounds, even if they are invisible.)
(When soldiers or warriors are shot, slashed by knives, hit by artillery shells, targeted by sniper bullets, and so on, dying in agony is an honorable gift. When they come back to life, they awaken in hospitals, either healed, completely recovered, or bearing scars. After receiving special care, the wounds vanish along with their pain.)
(But Fogarty De Polcester, she is perhaps a fighter for herself. Of course, bullet attacks and the like can easily claim her weak, emaciated body. One thing is certain: the wounds are real but invisible. These individuals usually endure injustice, betrayal, despair, lies, threats that drive them insane. Blindly wreaking havoc, events that everyone wishes to bury deep in the earth's core. Once those wounds are inflicted, no matter how severe the consequences, they remain the same. They never disappear, and the pain never heals.)
(With that, I have no choice but to accept and discuss it. Or does it appear that I have a choice?)
Cake was led to the dining room, which was combined with the kitchen. Passing through the kitchen, his eyes briefly caught sight of various beautiful fabrics. He actually wanted to touch one of them that wasn't covered on the shelf, but Cake was somewhat in a hurry.
The kitchen appeared simple but without leaving a luxurious impression, with a plain white wooden interior overall. The long table resembled gold, with chairs whose backrests were taller than their heads, resembling seats for royal discussions. One thing that intrigued Cake was the array of prepared food and drinks.
However... however... why does Lady De Polcester seem to know that I would arrive early and arrange all of this? Did she guess? That's too naive, thought Cake, still puzzled by the lack of a proper welcome.
After sitting for about five minutes, the woman offered the dishes to them, especially Cake, who had been traveling for almost eight hours. Agnes unabashedly took some grapes, while Cake only poured a glass of syrup and grabbed a filled bread.
(The situation was extremely awkward. It was understandable since Lady De Polcester, Aunt Mildsven, and I had just met. As for Agnes, that's just her usual demeanor.)
As Cake took a sip of syrup after finishing one piece of bread, his eyes scrutinized Lady De Polcester. She didn't eat, her eyes stared blankly downward, her cheeks deflated slightly with her lips slightly parted, indicating a sigh.
(It is clear that for someone who missed breakfast and embarked on an almost eight-hour journey, having only one piece of bread leaves them hungry. But Lady De Polcester's concern made my stomach feel full in an instant.)
Cake immediately reached into his pocket, wiping his lips with a handkerchief. His gaze directly focused on Lady De Polcester.
"Madame, I am ready. Let's discuss what needs to be discussed," Cake stated, surprising two or three other individuals.
"But... you just arrived. Enjoy your time—"
"I can postpone this for a moment. It will make me feel more at ease to savor this luxurious meal after hearing her grievances," Cake said, trying to calm them, especially Lady De Polcester.
(In doing so, although it's reluctantly necessary. The fact is, the food isn't going anywhere. To me, whether it's warm or cold doesn't make any difference.)
Lady De Polcester sipped mineral water before starting the conversation. She even lightly tapped her cheek. Then her small lips lifted, her gaze fixed on Cake without blinking.
(Lady De Polcester recounted a story about a child she entrusted to a Wales orphanage. She said she didn't want to reveal her reasons, fearing that I might change my mind. I didn't mind and urged her to continue her story.)
"I have been monitoring the child for a long time, their growth and development. I even regularly provide an allowance in the form of a scholarship. Of course, it's done through other people, as I am quite busy with work. We have been separated for about 17 years, and currently, she is studying in Scotland." Lady De Polcester handed over the photo.
When Cake received the photo, it wasn't the image that caught his attention. It was the physical condition of the photo paper, which had many creases when he turned it over.
(A multitude of questions arose. Why did Lady De Polcester choose to monitor instead of directly visiting? Why did she provide an allowance in the form of a scholarship? I didn't immediately express my thoughts, waiting for the person in question to provide a more comprehensive explanation.)
"So, what do you want from this girl?" Cake asked in return.
"I want her to come back to this house! Then, I want her to consider me as her mother. Because she is indeed my biological child! She's the only precious asset left by my husband!" the woman exclaimed, slightly annoyed.
Cake extended his hand, returning the photo. His eyes were closed, and his facial expression tightened. He felt disgusted by this kind of case, a cliché that evoked frustration.
"You called me for this?" Cake rose from his seat.
(For a moment, I thought she was an example of a cliché, an inadequate mother. However...)
"N-no! Th-that's not it! I-I have no other choice! I-it's not what it seems! If not for that, I would only remember her name before her sweet face grew up!"
(Hearing that, I was worried that I had jumped to conclusions too quickly. Besides, Agnes' presence should have already explained the anomaly of this case.)
"Is this part of the reason you were afraid I would refuse?" Cake asked, seeking confirmation.
Aunt Mildsven and Agnes glanced subtly at Lady De Polcester, who seemed increasingly cornered. She looked perplexed and bewildered. However, when Cake returned to his seat, Lady De Polcester realized she had no other choice.
"In fact, Lady De Polcester's husband was a thief and a fugitive from an organization..." Aunt Mildsven reluctantly explained. She turned her eyes away and sighed.
"An organization? What kind of organization?" Cake wondered.
(At this point, I could actually guess. Considering the records, it could be said to be my lifelong archenemy. And more importantly, I can understand why Lady De Polcester acted the way she did.)
"A small consortium, Route54B," Agnes said.
ns 172.71.222.202da2
and then Add to home screen.