Guidelines for the Perfect Goodbye - Chapter 258
“Lieutenant Harper, say a kind word on my behalf, will you? We’ve been through thick and thin together, haven’t we? Comrades in life and death, right?”
To be precise, Logan had saved him, and the Marquis had been the one rescued.
“I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee anything. My grandfather tends to treat my words like scraps caught in the wheels of a carriage.”
“That’s fine, as long as you try. I prefer to keep things smooth and amicable whenever possible.”
“Rest assured, my grandfather is someone who understands the concept of hierarchy.”
“Oh dear, hierarchy? What’s the point of that? We’re comrades now! People should treat people as people. I despise those who flaunt their rank.”
Then the Viscount asked,
“How much preparation do you think I’ll need?”
“The only thing my grandfather hasn’t obtained is your rank, my lord.”
“Hmm… I suppose that’s true. In that case, I’d rather have a good, expensive drink!”
Viscount Odridge laughed heartily, and Logan wore a faintly painted smile—one he often used when donning his social mask.
“Those fellows have been getting out of hand lately. I’ll make sure to remind them not to mess with the westerners.”
The Harper Trading Company wouldn’t bother reporting a central-region Viscount to the higher-ups, either. These incidents were misunderstandings, bound to happen when people from different regions mingled during the social season. Both sides would likely set clear boundaries and move on.
Logan nodded, easing the Viscount’s worries.
The Viscount exhaled theatrically, as though a great weight had been lifted, and began to grumble.
“To be honest, I’ve been thinking about stepping away from these more troublesome businesses. But they’re not easy to sell off, nor are they simple to shut down.”
It was a clear plea for assistance.
‘This is why I hate getting tangled up with trade.’
Logan drew a polite yet deliberate boundary.
“I’ll speak to my grandfather about it.”
“Great, I appreciate it.”
The Marquis smiled in satisfaction, then pulled out his pocket watch and hurriedly stood.
“I should stop drinking now. My wife insisted I be back in the bedroom before midnight today.”
“If it’s your wife’s request, you’d better go.”
“Will you stay here a bit longer?”
“I’ll finish this glass and then head back.”
“Alright then, I’ll take my leave… Ah, she must already be furious, thinking I’ve abandoned her again.”
As the Viscount quickly disappeared, Logan found himself contemplating human duality once more.
The Viscount was a man deeply devoted to his family, yet indifferent to the destruction of others’. Logan had seen him support his wife’s expensive ventures and his children’s costly studies abroad without complaint, always offering both financial and emotional support.
Within his estate, the Viscount seemed like a kind, generous, and refined man.
But outside, he was the secret owner of a gambling den. Many people lost their fortunes there, incurring unmanageable debts as they kept gambling to recover their losses, only to eventually go bankrupt.
Those in debt would drag others into the gambling pit to pay off their own dues. If a devil had created the world, it would look exactly like this.
Cecilia had given the Viscountess the seed of an idea for revenge. Inspired by Cecilia’s suggestion, the Viscountess had urged her husband to involve Christian Pierce.
A man who would pluck the moon from the sky for his wife would hardly ignore her proposal.
Though the Viscountess likely had no idea how ruthlessly her husband would exploit Christian, the outcome aligned with her desires.
‘Unknowingly, she’s set herself up to be implicated.’
Logan evaluated his half-brother as if he were a stranger. Whether Christian succeeded or failed mattered little to him.
What intrigued him was Cecilia’s involvement.
The Viscountess seemed pleased with herself for coming up with such a clever plan based on an innocent young lady’s comment, thinking the gambling den was just a harmless club.
But Logan knew better. It wasn’t a coincidence.
He knew Cecilia—or, at least, he believed he did. Even though claiming to ‘know’ someone he’d barely met could be considered arrogance, he couldn’t shake his certainty.
She would never say something meaningless. She wasn’t the type to offer unconditional goodwill.
At that moment, she’d harbored clear malice.
Malice toward House Odridge?
No, if that were the case, she would have mentioned the Viscount’s younger daughter.
Instead, she had deliberately brought up Christian Pierce—Logan’s half-brother.
Logan disliked deceitful people, whether they were men or women. Cecilia’s intentions weren’t just deceitful—they bordered on wicked.
And yet, he didn’t dislike her. If anything, she intrigued him. He wanted to understand her, to uncover the thoughts and feelings she kept so tightly locked away.
‘Why do you hate him?’
‘Why do you keep me at a distance?’
‘Am I, in your eyes, no different from him?’
No, if she had responded favorably to his offer to cooperate in her plan, she couldn’t completely despise him…
“Unless even that wasn’t sincere, which would be truly disheartening.”
Logan chuckled bitterly and drained his glass.
Somewhere, a clock chimed the arrival of midnight.
Soon, he too would fall asleep, tipsy from the drink. And in his sleep, he would dream.
The dreams were always similar, though never identical.
But one thing remained constant.
In those dreams, Cecilia was always Mrs. Harper.
