Bailonz Street 13

‘How could you not notice something like this stabbing into your body?’

While I was speechless with shock, Liam was already rummaging through his bag and pulling out some medicines. After assessing the width and depth of the wound, he gave a calm and peculiar order.

“Step back.”

Why? If I let go, she’ll die. But Liam’s face was resolute. Ah, I recognized the bottle in his hand. ‘If you pour this on shallow wounds,’ he had explained before. Without hesitation, he poured it on the wound, which started bubbling and frothing white. As the wound cleaned, blood and foam flowed down and pooled on the floor. The clear liquid formed a puddle big enough to reflect the woman’s pale face. Yet, he continued pouring the medicine (nearly emptying the bottle) and started with a new one.

“Liam, stop…”

And then I witnessed something astonishing. Like water being pumped from the ground, the wound that had been spewing blood began to heal. It was a speed of recovery beyond human capabilities. Before I knew it, the wound, about the size of a fingertip, left only a white scar.

Impossible. But the man who made the impossible possible stood before me.

He placed a hand over the healed area, closed his eyes, and then looked up. His gray pants, vest, and even his white shirt were soaked in blood.

“The worst is over. If we get her to the hospital now, she should be fine.”

How?

Are you a healer? Or an alchemist? How did you do it? Even the renowned alchemists couldn’t do this!

I swallowed the words that almost escaped my mouth. The tension left my body. I collapsed, muttering like a mad person, “She survived,” repeatedly. The man patted my shoulder.

The woman now seemed peaceful. No, wait. She was stabbed. How can she look peaceful? Correction: she no longer seemed like she was about to die. The signs of shock were subsiding. Her breathing returned.

The blood pooled on the floor was about 1.5 liters, likely mixed with the medicine Liam had poured.

At least she wasn’t going to die. Thank goodness. As I stared blankly at the blood pool, I finally noticed my own disheveled state.

“…Oh. Right. Mary.”

Mary, who was supposed to bring help, hadn’t returned.

We couldn’t move her alone. We needed more people to safely transport her to a hospital in London, which meant taking a train. Was there a doctor nearby? Hopefully, but if not, we’d have to rush to the station. It’s still morning, so there should be trains. First, calm down. We need more people.

Reluctantly, I stood up. Liam looked at me with worried eyes.

“Isn’t it better to wait for people?”

“It’s quiet outside. The scream was loud enough, someone should have heard it.”

Liam rolled his eyes briefly before grabbing my skirt and imploring,

“…If anything happens, come back here.”

I forced a reassuring smile and dashed out. I had no intention of saying something like, “What could go wrong?” to reassure him. That would jinx it.

The house was empty. No visitors, no staff, not even the groomsmen who had been milling about. I thought to check on James Stranden, but he was nowhere to be found. In a house that size, you should hear footsteps or voices, but there was nothing. It felt like everyone had fled.

I scanned the house map in the corner of my vision and saw movement in the second study. Could it be Mary? No, such a room would be private. Likely the owner. I decided to confront the scoundrel upstairs.

The study door was ajar, and I smelled burning.

When I opened the door, James Stranden was there, eyes wide open, bleeding from the neck. He wasn’t alive anymore.

Mary was next to him, breathing heavily, also covered in blood with a swollen face. It looked like he had set the curtain on fire.

She watched the flames slowly spread, then turned to see me. I couldn’t speak, but Mary dropped the candlestick and showed me her bare hands.

“I did it.”

She laughed, like a prisoner tasting the sea breeze, with a smile only someone who had broken free could muster.

“Why…?”

“The master ordered me to kill the lady.”

The young maid seemed furious.

“He said if I stabbed her in the corset, no one would know.”

“You didn’t have to do it.”

I said. Crime is committed by people. It only happens when someone decides to do it. If no one wanted to kill, there would be no victims.

“…He threatened my younger sibling.”

Ah, blackmail.

We know all too well how the power given by the cursed class system torments the lower classes. If Mary were a bit older or more experienced, she would have realized James Stranden wasn’t such a big shot. Compared to the bigwigs in London, he was a mere insect!

I spoke again.

“Was it the same reason you killed James Stranden?”

“And because he was going to kill me too. He said if I didn’t die quietly, he’d harm my sibling. So I did it. He said I had to die. That way, he’d be a poor husband who lost his wife. Dead people don’t talk, so if I died, it would be over. But Miss, isn’t death equal regardless of status? Dead people don’t talk, and that applies to the master too.”

The young maid rubbed her forehead with her somewhat clean hand and approached me.

As we talked, the fire began to spread from the curtains to the floor and walls. Ashes from the burnt curtain fell like fireballs. The smell of burning choked me slightly.

Mary glanced at James Stranden once more and, as if making a decision, spoke up.

“I’ll stay here. As they say, dead people don’t talk. No one will know what happened. On the wedding day, this incident will seem like a curse. The Stranden family is finished. So is this mansion. All the things built with the lady’s money must be burned.”

Her bloodstained little hand gripped mine. She spoke repeatedly, emphasizing every word, showing her determination.

“The fire will soon engulf the whole mansion. You should go. Tell the lady I’m sorry.”

She pushed me out and locked the door, leaving behind her words.

As the door closed, the young maid smiled brightly.

“Mary!”

I pounded on the door. I tried to shoulder it open, but it only budged slightly. She must have bolted it from the inside.

The flames that reached out from the room grew fiercer. Once they caught the oil-treated wood, they wouldn’t die down. They climbed from the walls to the ceiling.

How could it burn so quickly? I couldn’t understand.

When I arrived, the fire had just started, but in the short time we talked, half the mansion was ablaze. The heat felt like a snake’s tongue. It wouldn’t stop. That’s what makes fire so terrifying. It spreads endlessly with the right fuel.

I pounded on the door again, shouting. My shoulder ached, but saving a life was more important.

“Open this door, Mary! Damn it! Listen to me!”

After about five attempts, I stepped back, holding my numb shoulder.

I couldn’t stay there forever. The fire was spreading fast, and if I delayed any longer, my life would be at risk. I might die trying to escape. Without a gas mask, I knew most deaths in a fire were due to suffocation. I was already starting to feel heavier.

In the end, I gave up trying to open the door and quietly turned to leave.

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I love the chapters’ titles… this author is so good w them and they’re all so fitting too…