Rue was looking for the legacy of Dian Cecht.
The claims of the butler-assassin were based on reasonable evidence:
"A few days ago, my master asked me if I knew anything about the 'eyes' of Dian Cecht. Also, when I was cleaning his room a few days ago, I found a tourist guide to Midwinterre lying around and a bookmark inside the urban legends section. It mentioned, albeit briefly, the eyes of Dian Cecht."
Rue putting bookmarks in a book? That didn't sound like him at all.
"The purpose of that suspicious man is to find the relic of Dian Cecht."
It was a conclusion that made sense. However, there seemed to be a lack of reason for Rue's work as a gardener and cook at Weatherwoods. He had such a serious goal, yet he continued working as an employee?
Perhaps that was why. Was there a connection between the Weatherwoods residence and the relics of Dian Cecht?
Oh, that sounded quite plausible.
I left the butler-assassin to clean the pub and handed him the thick paper envelope I had brought with me beforehand.
"What is this?"
"These are the fees for the seats occupied by the merchant council. I decided to pay the creditor back with plenty of interest. Don't you think the same, my friend?"
"Is that right?"
"Yes, yes."
That's right. If you are in debt, you must pay double.
I left the pub with a more comfortable mind. It looked dark under the lamp, but I felt it was necessary to look closer at the Weatherwood mansion.
The next day at noon.
The sky today was somewhat cloudy. It was so humid it felt like it was going to pour rain when the sun went down. As soon as lunch was over, I went up to the Weatherwood hall, right next to the library on the first floor.
A noble family with a deep history usually had a separate room to store the family relics, their ancestry, family tree information, and treasures. The Weatherwoods also had such a room inside the mansion.
If something happened in this room, no employee except the head maid could enter to observe the situation. Furthermore, it was locked, so no matter how much I turned the doorknob, it wouldn't open.
If I go in by force, it will look obvious. So I have no choice but to find the location of the key and sneak in at dawn.
There was nothing I could do about it. I returned to the kitchen and prepared my own tea. A cup of tea with petals floating in the soft spring breeze is best at noon.
"Mr. Rue."
When I heard a familiar voice, I poked my head out the window. The maid was seen approaching Rue, who was sitting in a garden chair, and instructing him on this and that. Rue, who smiled softly, nodded.
"It's fine."
"Then, please."
Rue, who looked away, went back to reading. A cook and a gardener who read without any worry in the world? But Rue was always relaxed. The head servant didn't care much about his free time. It was the moment he enjoyed after correctly performing his duties. His work speed was so fast that sometimes I doubted if he secretly had four arms.
As expected, Rue and books don't go together.
I silently looked at Rue, who was sitting in the middle of the green garden. His face, as elegant and somber as a shadow under the brightness, was more suited to being a drug addict than a bookworm, and more to alcohol than paper. Or a soldier suffering from severe PTSD. Perhaps even a lonely hunter living in the forest.
But Rue was a cook, a gardener, and a rich man. The gap between prejudice and reality was very scary.
A gladiator who sells drugs, head of the black market and the underworld, the leader of the dark drug guild...
While I listed the jobs that would fit Rue, I discovered something about him that I hadn't noticed before. His messy ears. There were many thin holes in both the right and left ears.
I couldn't see it properly, but the cartilage and ear hole seemed to be in similar condition. But he didn't wear any accessories, which made them look smooth. The sight of his ears made me even more suspicious of him.
This was because all the holes had been made at acupuncture points for smooth magic flow. He even pierced all the points where common mages would normally pierce a couple at most.
How many magic tools do you carry?
Magic tools were basically very scarce. Among them, magic tools large enough to carry on the body were especially valuable, no matter how trivial their functions might be.
Of course, money itself wouldn't be a big deal for him considering he owned a mansion on the busiest street of Midwinterre. The problem was why he would use so many magic tools. The holes in both ears were more than ten. Even the emperor of this country wouldn't need so many tools.
Today again I had to think: What the hell is Rue doing?
I heard the sound of pages turning in the wind. Rue's hands were beautiful when he turned the paper. They were slender, clean hands, comparable to those of Daisy, who had not yet touched any sword.
There were no calluses, let alone cuts or small scratches. Although his hands were large enough to cover my face and his joints protruded in some places, it was natural considering Rue's incomparable height. Such a hand did not wield a sword.
Considering all this, it was most likely that Rue was a mage. It must mean he had created all those magic tools for himself to use. I suspected it from the moment I heard from the butler-assassin that he had cast a spell on the Eachus mansion, but now it was clear he was a very good mage.
"So."
Look, even his voice is impressive.
"If you stare at someone's face as if you want to tear it off for so long, shouldn't you at least leave a thank-you comment?"
The voice is as if it were deeply embedded with a steel seal heated by fire on a mud-covered rock. Should I pretend I didn't hear it?
Still, since I had decided to communicate with him properly, I shouldn't openly ignore him. I chose the easiest topic to talk about, leaving behind the questions I wanted to ask Rue, which were piling up enough to come out of my throat at any moment.
"I planted flowers."
About the small, tiny pot he had entrusted to me. Rue, who tilted his head, smiled while slightly narrowing his shadowed eyes.
"That's a strange answer. Does that mean flowers come to mind whenever you look at my face?" Then he said with a picturesque smile: "You must have planted flowers like me."
Flowers like you? What do you mean by flowers like you? And how do you know what flowers I planted? What I planted wasn't a seedling, but some random seeds I roughly picked up from the market.
"Don't pretend to know something when you don't."
Rue couldn't know what kind of flowers they are if I didn't know either.
"Pretend when I don't know? Hmm. So, what did you plant?"
I answered with the most serious expression I could make so as not to let the lie be discovered. "It's a secret."
An absurd laugh broke out in his voice. "There must be very few things as pathetic as not knowing what kind of flowers you planted yourself."
When Rue closed the book he was reading so diligently, its name appeared on the cover: "Seven Mysterious Treasures for Children."
Why is that? Why am I so sure that book has a story about Dian Cecht?
I remembered the reason I was inspecting Rue a bit late. Dian Cecht. It was ironic. Just when I had stopped paying attention to him and was trying to focus on my work, we were reconnected by the common name known as "Dian Cecht."
Was Rue only looking for the eyes of Dian Cecht? Or the other four relics as well? If I asked Rue if he himself was looking for the relics of Dian Cecht, the suspicion between us might be resolved unexpectedly and quickly. If only Rue and I were involved, I would have done it.
However, the problem was that whoever delivered this information was the butler-assassin. The butler-assassin was a valuable link providing information about Rue. If Rue suspected the butler-assassin for a moment and finally kicked him out, I would suffer a great loss.
Above all, I cannot ignore the possibility that this man let this information slip to me intentionally.
This man, Rue. A man full of cunning, except for his sparkling skin.
"Did you make some kind of mistake with Miss Daisy, Mr. Rue?"
"I'm not sure. Looking at my face in stupor once or twice is understandable, but from now on, I'm going to charge a fee for sightseeing."
And the most brazen guy in the world.
"Daisy... although it might not look like it, is an honest person."
The maid who appeared from the other side of the garden blocked my view of Rue. "Did you see everything?"
"...Yes."
"Then go to work now."
This woman, the head maid. She was the most heartless woman in Midwinterre.
Just as I was about to raise the body that had been sitting by the window for some time, Rue, walking calmly toward me on his long legs, handed me something. I unconsciously accepted the small wooden sign without thinking.
"What is this?"
"Name the flowers you planted and put this in the pot."
It was a name tag for a flower pot. It was so ridiculous. "Why?"
He replied with a kind smile to my counterquestion, which was unpleasant, troublesome, and uncomfortable to hear. "Our Daisy is so half-hearted. Even if you don't know the breed, you should at least name it. Responsibility begins with something surprisingly small."
I looked at the broad shoulders that disappeared in the distance and looked at the wooden sign in my hand. It wasn't even an animal. Why should I name it? I snorted and threw it roughly in the trash. Then I slowly turned around and picked the wooden sign back up.
"Fine."
Rue had a bad personality, so he'd probably pay me back double if I threw this away. It wasn't even a difficult task, so it would be better to just listen to him. I reflected on the name of the pot for a long time before taking the sign after sunset.
The sign was empty. Finally I stopped naming. And that night, after a long time, a visitor arrived.