Miss Charlotte’s Case Journal - Chapter 21

Henry slightly furrowed his brow, but quickly relaxed his expression and spoke in a deliberately polite tone, “Still, couldn’t you spare me enough time for at least a cup of tea?”

“That’s not possible. Charlotte, go inside.”

“I was asking Miss Charlotte.”

“Charlotte’s too busy to even spare a moment for a short conversation. She has to get back to work right away.”

“But she’s standing right here, isn’t she?”

“Enough already!”

At Charlotte’s outburst, both men flinched. She frowned, irritation rising sharply. What were they even doing, squabbling with her between them like this? Were they joking?

“First of all, Senior Eugene… I can speak for myself. You don’t have to talk on my behalf to someone who came to see me.”

“Oh, uh… yeah….”

“And, Inspector, I was in the middle of writing an opinion report when I stepped out, so I’m afraid I can’t make time right now. I think I’ll be done in about an hour. Would you mind waiting?”

“…Ah, of course. I’ll wait.”

Charlotte strode back into her office. Watching her walk away, both men scratched awkwardly at the backs of their necks, looking embarrassed. Then, when their eyes met, they quickly turned their heads in opposite directions.

Eugene hurried after Charlotte. When he opened the office door, he saw her sitting in her chair again, pen in hand. As he cautiously studied her expression, he finally opened his mouth.

“Are you mad?”

“…Not really.”

“I, I mean, we just… that guy from the Metropolitan Police came looking for you without explaining properly, so….”

“I get it, Senior.”

They probably thought he’d come to dump some errands on her. The people at the Metropolitan Police still sometimes handed such work over to the morgue. Though it had lessened over time, there were still some who treated morgue staff as if they were subordinates.

Of course, the rude attitude her seniors showed Henry likely stemmed from the deep-rooted resentment toward the Metropolitan Police that remained in everyone’s hearts. But since it was true that they were only trying to ‘protect’ her, Charlotte wasn’t particularly upset.

“It’s fine, really. I know him.”

“Oh, really?”

Eugene looked both relieved and bewildered.

“We thought he came to bother you… damn, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I’ll explain it to him properly.”

An hour later, Charlotte opened her office door and stepped out. Henry, who had been leaning against the wall across the hallway, smiled brightly when he saw her.

“All done?”

“…You’ve been standing here the whole time?”

Charlotte was dumbfounded at the sight of Henry shyly nodding. Seriously, he could’ve just sat somewhere. Her incredulous expression made Henry rush to explain himself.

“I just… didn’t know where I was supposed to wait. Everyone ignored me when I tried to ask.”

“Ah….”

Her colleagues… of course. They must’ve deliberately refused to help him because he was from the Metropolitan Police. Charlotte felt a pang of guilt.

“This way, please.”

As she led him toward the break room, Henry followed quietly behind her.

“You really were busy.”

“Hm?”

“No, it’s just… I thought they were lying to stop me from meeting you.”

Henry laughed as he said it, and Charlotte found herself at a loss for words. This whole thing had clearly been the morgue’s fault, yet he didn’t seem even remotely angry.

Henry suddenly turned his head and looked at her intently. Charlotte froze mid-step, startled.

“W-what is it?”

“…You weren’t lying to me either, were you, Miss Charlotte?”

He had wondered if she’d made an excuse to avoid speaking with him. But as he watched her blink in silence, saying nothing, Henry simply smiled gently.

***

Charlotte, feeling a little guilty, picked out the best tea leaves she could find from among the dusty tins and brewed a cup of tea for him. Then she rummaged through the entire cupboard and finally managed to find a few biscuits.

Of course, once she set them down on the table, they all looked terribly shabby, but this was the best she could manage in a morgue that didn’t have proper refreshments.

“The aroma… it’s quite unique.”

Henry smiled awkwardly and subtly pushed his teacup aside. Feeling a bit embarrassed, Charlotte scratched her neck and opened her mouth.

“Sorry. This was the best I could do right away….”

“Well, tea’s tea. It can’t be that bad, right?”

At her words, Henry quickly grabbed his cup. Holding his breath, he took a sip of tea, then tightly shut his eyes with a grim expression as he swallowed. It was so bitter…. What was that smell? Mold? Henry grimaced and hurriedly grabbed a biscuit. I need to cleanse my mouth, fast…!

“Cough!”

That was a mistake. Henry’s face flushed red all the way to his ears as he began to cough violently. The biscuit tasted like years of dust. How could something like this even exist? This… this shouldn’t exist.

“Eat slowly. You must’ve been hungry.”

Charlotte said as she picked up a biscuit herself. Henry frantically waved his hands, trying to stop her. He wanted to tell her not to eat it, but the only thing that came out of his blocked throat was a weak, wheezing sound.

Charlotte took a bite and chewed for a moment, then tilted her head slightly before lifting the teacup. During that time, Henry barely managed to swallow what was still in his mouth and spoke,

“Are you alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“…Does it taste good?”

Charlotte shrugged. “It’s a little stale, but not bad, really.”

Henry gaped in disbelief. He frowned and glanced between the biscuit and Charlotte’s face. Charlotte, meanwhile, took another sip of tea. It was a bit bitter from steeping too long, but….

“You must have quite the picky palate.”

Charlotte tilted her cup slowly as she spoke. The tea was decent enough. It wasn’t exactly good, but it wasn’t undrinkable either.

“Oh, my palate, right….”

Henry let out an awkward laugh and set the half-eaten biscuit back down on the plate. It was rude to return food you’d already taken, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish it. He even pushed the teacup aside entirely.

Would it be rude to ask for just a glass of water instead? Henry desperately wanted to wash the taste out of his mouth, but he didn’t want to bluntly say, ‘The refreshments you prepared are awful.’ In the end, he just bit his lip. Truthfully, he was scared that even plain water here might taste the same.

“By the way, didn’t you say you had something to tell me?”

“Oh.”

Henry’s unfocused eyes lit up again. Clearing his throat once, he spoke seriously.

“I actually came to ask for your help with something.”

“…With what?”

“I’ll tell you once you promise to hear me out first.”

Charlotte frowned slightly at that. What on earth was this? A bad feeling crept up her neck. Normally, she’d refuse if someone she barely knew asked her for a favor like this. The only reason someone would ask her to promise first was because they knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse once she heard the details. Even putting aside the quiet tension between the morgue and the police, this kind of thing was never a good sign.

But Charlotte owed him a debt. Whenever she thought about the Baron Turobe case, she couldn’t bring herself to treat him coldly. Of course, he probably knew nothing about the truth behind it, but even so, Charlotte couldn’t shamelessly act as if nothing had happened in front of him.

“…Alright.”

Even if it meant rolling in a pit of filth, Charlotte decided she’d do it without hesitation. Henry let out a deep sigh and spoke in a low voice.

“An autopsy.”

***

It was a night when even the moon hid behind the clouds. The morgue, with all its lights out, was completely dark. Charlotte sat still at her office desk. The small chair across from her was occupied by Henry. He looked quite uncomfortable and kept shifting around, trying to find a more relaxed position, but it was no use.

In the silence, only the soft rustling of fabric echoed faintly. Charlotte quietly listened to that sound for a while, then exhaled a slow, steady breath. Finally, she stood up.

The hallway ahead was so dark she could barely see, but Charlotte walked forward without hesitation. Henry trailed closely behind her.

When they reached the corridor leading to the autopsy room, Charlotte finally turned on the lights. Her eyes, long accustomed to the dark, stung sharply in protest. As Henry squinted, frowning, Charlotte calmly pushed open the autopsy room door.

The autopsy room, freshly cleaned, was spotless. But soon, it would be smeared with blood and bodily fluids once again. Just imagining that sight made Charlotte’s hands tremble and her head spin, as if she might faint at any moment, yet she forced herself to stay composed as she walked toward the body storage room.

Together, they retrieved a single corpse and lifted it onto the autopsy table. It was a young man, perhaps in his late twenties. There were wounds on the back of his head and forehead that looked as though he’d been struck by something both blunt and sharp. His skin was torn, revealing the red flesh underneath.

The man had a slender build overall, with no particularly distinguishing features. His face was one that could be found anywhere—ordinary, unremarkable.

His clothes had already been removed and sent to the examination room. Charlotte carefully recalled what he had been wearing. The fabric had been worn, yet clean and tidy. Though it had been smeared with dust, blood, and filth, and crumpled here and there, that had only happened after his death. Before that, his attire had been proper and neat.

Charlotte gazed at him in silence.