Bailonz Street 13

Clara must have been waiting for me eagerly. As the coachman helped me down, she stood at the front door without a coat. Winter in London is harsher than expected, with unmelted snow still piled up around the garden. I was shocked to see Clara standing there so fearlessly.

“Clara! What month is it? And you’re dressed like that?”

“I was waiting for you, Honey.”

Pouting and wrapping her arms around herself, she looked so adorable that I couldn’t bring myself to scold her any further. Instead, I burst out laughing. ‘Honey’ was a pet name Clara had given me, one she only used when we were alone. Clearly, she was in a playful mood. Her hands were like ice.

“Weren’t you cold? You should have worn something!”

“A friend is coming over. As if the cold could stop Clara Barnum! Impossible.”

She confidently flipped her short hair and smiled. I rubbed her cold hands and led her inside. To be honest, Clara looked more in need of a fireplace than a meal right now. A glass of brandy would do her good.

“Wow.”

As soon as we opened the door, a rush of warm air enveloped us. My ears, which had been exposed to the cold, tingled as the warmth touched them. The biting winter wind seemed to fall away. But then, I was taken aback by the scene inside. The interior of the house had completely changed. I remembered visiting this place several times before. Clara’s home used to be elegantly furnished with French-imported furniture, renowned for its lovely patterns and delicate decorations. Now, most of the furniture was made of heavy wood.

“Why did you change the interior so much?”

“Wanted a change of pace, plus some shopping. But I only changed this area. Replacing everything upstairs would have cost too much.”

I laughed. She was pretending to be frugal despite having more money than sand on a beach.

Perhaps it was the new furniture, or maybe she had paid extra attention to detail, but Clara’s house was spotless. And with the soft music playing in the background, to be honest… it was a bit intimidating. How much effort had my friend put into this meal for me? Even hiring a musician? I decided not to ask about the cost, fearing I might faint if I heard the number. Instead, I asked something else.

“How’s the old butler?”

“He’s been coughing a bit due to the cold weather, so I gave him a holiday. The chef also left after preparing our meal….”

“The staff welfare here is better than at our office.”

Clara’s eyes widened.

“That detective guy isn’t overworking you, right? You’re getting paid, right? Seriously, if you’re working for free, let me know. I’ll bring in a team of lawyers and sue…”

“Calm down, Clara.”

“Smite them in the name of…”

“You’re an atheist.”

After a moment, we both burst out laughing. Clara wiped tears from her eyes and guided me to the dining room.

“Hungry? He’s waiting inside.”

Suddenly, I felt a surge of determination. As I smiled subtly, Clara’s eyes darted nervously.

“Jane, what are you planning?”

“A pressure interview.”

“Miss Jane Osmond, this isn’t a company.”

“If you want to marry my friend, you have to get through me first.”

Clara put her hand on her forehead. Just then, a man who had been anxiously waiting inside stood up as soon as he saw Clara and me.

“You can sit down.”

Looking very much like an interviewer, Clara grumbled as she went to her seat. I refused the chair offered to me and sat down myself. The meal was served promptly.

The dinner was delightful. Clara’s boyfriend was very pleasant. I usually remain indifferent to men’s looks after seeing Liam Moore’s face daily, but I was genuinely surprised when I first saw Clara’s boyfriend. He had the kind of beauty that could make a model weep. Clara used to say she didn’t care about looks, but clearly, she did.

They say people in love start to look alike. Clara seemed to have met someone who mirrored her appearance and personality. His handsome features and bold personality were just like hers. It was as if they had scoured the earth to find two similar-looking people.

Clara’s boyfriend had light brown, curly hair and sun-kissed skin. As he cut Clara’s meat for her with his muscular arms, I whispered to her.

“You should think about getting married soon.”

Clara smiled and showed her left hand, bare without a ring.

“He’s planning a proposal.”

“What? Clara? Did you call me?”

Her boyfriend paused from cutting the meat and looked up. Such keen hearing. Clara shook her head.

“My friend thinks you’ll make a good husband.”

What? When did I say that? Clara was making things up again. I couldn’t hide my shock, but her boyfriend laughed heartily.

“That’s my duty.”

My jaw dropped.

This man was perfect. It was as if he had fallen from the sky just for Clara. Get married. Yes. Live happily together forever. Seeing the two of them blushing and exchanging sweet words made me feel like I was intruding. I turned to Clara, who was still fidgeting.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Her boyfriend choked on his water. His shoulders shook from the effort to suppress his coughing. Surely, I could ask how they met and fell in love. These are the stories we love.

Clara lowered her voice, as if revealing a great secret.

“Well, you know I run a business. Recently, I got a new ship, and of course, I needed a crew.”

It seemed she had chartered a ship. This meant Clara had to handle everything from crew to ship provisions herself. I nodded.

“Of course.”

“I prepared everything, but I needed someone who could sail the ship. So, I went around looking for a crew, and a business acquaintance introduced me to a captain. They told me to go to the docks on a specific date.”

Could it be?

I leaned in eagerly. Clara continued her story.

“When I got there, he was overseeing the unloading of cargo from the ship. His coat and hair were blowing in the wind. His commanding voice pierced through the noise of the busy docks. It was so loud, but all I could hear was his voice. And then I thought, ‘Wow, I must get him.’”

“Oh my God, Clara!”

Clara’s boyfriend looked like he wanted to crawl into a teapot. Of course, Clara Barnum wouldn’t allow that.

I laughed, then winced at the slight sting in my ear. Why? Clara, noticing my discomfort, asked,

“Are you hurt?”

The tingling in my ear subsided. I shrugged.

“No, just static, I think.”

For almost three hours, we teased Clara’s boyfriend. It was inevitable. Clara’s boyfriend was easy to tease; he would blush and squirm no matter how we mocked him. By the time I left, my cheekbones ached from laughing so much.

Clara seemed reluctant to let me go, her eyes lingering on me with a hint of regret. But she couldn’t keep me forever, so she came out to see me off. I said my goodbyes.

“I had a great time, Clara.”

“Honey, let’s meet again soon.”

“Your ‘honey’ is over there, girl.”

Clara laughed heartily and hugged me tightly.

A carriage was already waiting outside Clara’s house. Inside was a very familiar, handsome man. It was Liam. Perfect timing.

Halfway into the carriage, I waved to Clara. She waved back. I turned to Liam and asked,

“Liam Moore! Are you feeling better?”

Sitting inside, he nodded.

I heard the crackling noise of the radio.

＊ ＊ ＊

About ten minutes into the ride, I started feeling sleepy after the meal and rested my head against the carriage wall. Liam’s gaze was fixed on me. His gaunt cheeks and weary complexion hadn’t changed since I left the house. He sat upright, staring at my face.

“Liam?”

He nodded. And then, I sensed something was wrong.

I couldn’t tell what was in front of me.

It looked exactly like Liam Moore, but there was an eerie, unnatural feeling. He hadn’t blinked for ten minutes. I couldn’t even hear him breathe. Sitting rigidly, his gaze locked on me, as if that was all he could do.

Yes, to put it simply,

‘Don’t you want to save Liam Moore?’

It reminded me of the creaky, shell-like state of Herschel Hopkins.