To My First Love, With Regret - 98

—Send Ethan Fairchild to prison.

The silence on the other end of the line was so absolute it was as if he had stopped breathing. Only after a long pause did a pained, weary groan travel through the wire.

• • Taking that man down and locking him away has been my life’s wish, but…

He couldn’t finish the sentence, letting out a hollow, defeated laugh instead. It was the laugh of a hunter standing before a monster that had grown to a terrifying, untouchable scale.

• • For a request like that, you’d be better off asking God than a private detective.

—Don’t give up before you even begin. This time, I’m the one holding the evidence of his crimes.

Only then did a faint but undeniable spark of fervor return to Shepherd’s voice.

• • What kind of crime are we talking about?

—Smuggling.

• • Hmph. That’s already…..

—Ethan Fairchild is using the National Army as his personal smuggling syndicate.

• • …Are you saying he’s using the military to run his operations?

Exactly. Ethan Fairchild was diverting the military transport network—the very veins of the nation—into his private smuggling routes.

Why did Ethan Fairchild become a soldier?

Eve had wondered about this for a long time. A man like him, who could tear through the mesh of the law with a sneer, wouldn’t have been caught by a simple conscription notice unless he wanted to be. Did a criminal like him actually possess a shred of patriotism?

The answer, as expected, was purely criminal. He didn’t go to protect his country; he went to exploit it.

His choice to become a commander of a transport unit must have been deliberate. It gave him free rein to use military aircraft as his personal mules.

—I don’t know exactly what items he’s smuggling. But I know for certain he’s spiriting enemy personnel out to third-party countries in exchange for massive kickbacks. And he’s doing it during military operations, using military planes.

• • Smuggling enemy personnel during wartime…

She heard the sound of a heavy swallow from the other end.

• • If those individuals have ties to the enemy military or government, the story changes completely. Then he’s not just a smuggler; he’s a traitor.

Shepherd’s voice trembled with a repressed, jagged excitement.

• • That is a capital offense, the highest of high crimes under military law. Especially during a war.

—Indeed. Now, do you still think I should be asking God?

A laugh erupted from the receiver. Any trace of helplessness was gone.

• • Even if he’s bought off the military investigators and the courts, he won’t be able to bury a case like this quietly. Just wait and see. That man will rot in a cell.

Please, let it be so. So that he never finds us again.

No, so that he never even realizes we’ve vanished. Only then will we truly be free.

As a heavy silence stretched while Eve made her cruel wish, Shepherd, losing his patience, pressed for more.

• • So, what evidence do you have?

There were memos left behind in the trash by his gang members in the mansion’s game room. She had even shaded over the indentations on a notepad with a pencil to reveal what had been written on the page above.

And the most decisive piece of evidence was the painting, <The Masquerade>, which Ethan had received in exchange for smuggling a Constance citizen into Lavinia.

Of course, the evidence Eve had gathered didn’t stop there.

—I have a list of accomplices who conspired in these military law violations.

From Ethan’s subordinates who frequented the mansion in uniform to conspirators outside the gang. For instance, Colonel Wallace of the Army, who oversees a certain military hospital, or Major Thomas Holbrook of the Navy, who was undoubtedly involved in ferrying contraband or people across the sea.

As Eve mentally cataloged every scrap of evidence she had scraped together, her eyes shone with a cold, piercing light. The man who had likely seen only boredom or disillusionment in those same eyes would never have imagined the sharp intellect flickering behind them.

In many ways, mimicking the swindler who had stolen what was hers had proven useful. By pretending to be a fragile, helpless woman, she had enticed the man who underestimated her to expose his own weaknesses.

She had gathered plenty, but she couldn’t go any further alone. If Eve took another step herself, she risked being caught.

If only she could eavesdrop on the calls made from his bedroom and the game room, she would have even more damning proof. But while this mansion had servants who knew how to make a bed, it had no technician who could tap a phone line. This was another reason she needed Shepherd’s help.

—Your role is to gather the final, decisive evidence to put the shackles on him. I’ll be the one to personally drag Ethan Fairchild to the gates of the prison.

She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. it sounded like the crackle of a dying ember suddenly catching fire.

• • Just leave it to me. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will see that man behind bars.

Now, instead of the lethargy of a loser, Shepherd’s voice dripped with the murderous intent of a hungry beast. Eve hung up the receiver with a cool, satisfied smile.

It was an excellent choice.

There is no ally more perfect for watching your back than one who shares the exact same hatred.

The call was over, but Eve couldn’t bring herself to keep her promise to Tony immediately. She felt as though she had just crawled out of a swamp of her own making. It was only after she had scrubbed away every invisible stain left by her dark schemes that she finally knocked on the child’s door.

—Eve? Come in!

Any hesitation she had about whether he might be asleep vanished at the sound of his bright, lively shout. Tony was waiting for her, his eyes vibrant and free of even a hint of drowsiness.

Soon, two heads were tucked together affectionately under the glow of a yellow lamp. A hand holding a brush and a small hand gripping plastic parts moved busily back and forth.

Painting, drying, fitting. Before long, the scheduled bedtime had long since passed, but Eve didn’t scold the child or rush him to bed as he worked with rapt focus, rubbing his eyes. Neither her usually strict rules nor the grim reality outside the window were allowed to intrude upon this quiet sanctuary between mother and son.

—It’s finished!

Tony held the model plane high like a trophy. Suddenly, Eve was overwhelmed by a poignant emotion that only a true victor could feel.

It wasn’t just a toy. It was ‘our plane,’ the very first thing Eve and Tony had built together.

The child spun the propeller on the fuselage, glanced at the pitch-black darkness outside, and cautiously tugged at Eve’s sleeve.

—Eve… can we fly it now?

Normally, preoccupied with raising the child ‘properly,’ she would never have allowed it.

—Shall we?

But tonight, Eve took Tony’s hand and stepped out into the moonlit garden.

She, too, longed to see it. That moment of flight, kicking off from a reality as heavy as gravity to soar into freedom.

When they reached an open spot in the garden where the black sea, soaked in the lighthouse’s beam, was visible at a glance, Tony suddenly thrust the plane toward her.

—Do you want to fly it, Eve?

—…Me? I don’t know how to fly something like this….

She didn’t want to break the thing they had labored over by making a mistake.

—It’s okay. I’ll show you.

As she carefully took the plane from him, Tony stood on his tiptoes and gave her a serious lesson on how to launch it.

—Keep winding the propeller this way. Until the rubber band is so tight you can barely turn it anymore.

Eve wound the propeller just as her little teacher instructed. With every turn, she felt the elastic tension pushing back against her fingertips. It felt like the heartbeat of a plane desperate to break away. Eve’s own heart began to beat in the same rhythm.

—Now. Hold it high and send it into the sky.

Afraid it might plummet the moment she let go, Eve released the plane toward the distant sea.

—Whoa! It’s flying! See? It’s easy, right?

The plane that left her fingertips did not fall. Like a bird seeking freedom, it spread its silver wings and soared gallantly into the night sky.

Eve felt a piercing envy for that little bird surging upward in defiance of gravity. Her eyes followed it until it became a distant star in the night, and she whispered a desperate wish.

—I want to fly away like that, too.

It’s okay.

Eve soothed the small bird inside her that hungered for freedom.

We’ll be taking flight soon. On a real plane, to the very edge of the world, far across that sea.

To a place without the shackles of Ethan Fairchild or the prison of Kentrell—a strange land where no one can find us.

Eve wrapped one hand around the child’s shoulder and pressed the other against her lower belly, offering a silent promise.

My loves, let’s leave.

In search of freedom.

And in search of our true selves.

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Around the time autumn was fading and winter began to seep in, Owen obtained a leave of absence and returned to White Cliff Hall. The fact that Ethan had barged in a day earlier was undoubtedly to prevent any other male from planting a seed in Eve in his stead.

Little did he know that he, too, was now incapable of planting any seed.

In a state of taut tension where Eve alone saw through everyone’s true nature, dinner for the five of them began.

The butler circled the table, pouring red wine into the adults’ glasses one by one, but he bypassed the glass of the hostess—Eve—who should have been served first.

Looking at the empty glass, the corners of Owen’s mouth twitched upward slightly before quickly hardening back into a neutral expression as he hid his smile. He had realized the reason.

—Hey, Redgrave. You missed Lady Evelyn’s glass.

Whether Ethan lacked intuition or was simply being his usual quick-witted yet despicable self, he jerked his chin at the butler, signaling him to fill her glass. Behind her mask, Eve maintained her guard and replied indifferently.

—My stomach hasn’t been well lately. The doctor told me to abstain from alcohol for the time being.

She didn’t want that man to find out yet. Not yet.

However, her sensitized body betrayed her iron will. The moment a meat dish she usually enjoyed was placed on her plate…

—Ugh….

A retch escaped before she could stop it. As she quickly covered her mouth, the hand across the corner of the table, which had been flippantly swirling a wine glass, came to a dead halt.

Suppressing the rising nausea, Eve composed herself and lifted her head, only to lock eyes directly with Ethan Fairchild’s relentless gaze, which was dissecting her with clinical intensity.