My Husband Caught Me Having an Affair - Chapter 42

“You still haven’t answered my question. What did you two discuss?” Jacques asked again.

This was a fortunate turn. If the Duchess’s words were true, Jacques was involved anyway. Jacques was more of a professional in this field than Mael, so he could be of help if needed.

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain on the way. Let’s get going.”

“Going? Where to?”

“I’ll explain that too as we go,” Mael said.

“……”

Jacques eyed him suspiciously but reluctantly followed him out.

***

Inside the carriage, Mael recounted Camille’s story to Jacques. Watching Jacques’s expressions shift constantly was both amusing and a reminder that he had probably looked the same not long ago, bringing a wry smile to Mael’s face.

“Do you truly believe the Duchess’s words?” Jacques finally asked, his tone skeptical.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Mael admitted. “That’s why we’re verifying it.”

“This is absurd. She claims to have seen a face in passing from a carriage, at night, half a year ago. She didn’t even witness the man committing the murder.”

“But what if she didn’t mistake it? What if Bache is indeed the murderer behind the serial killings? Considering the potential danger, we can’t just dismiss it as nonsense.”

Jacques fell silent, his expression hardening.

“……”

“We’re not planning to arrest and torture Bache. Just a quick search of his room. If it can prevent a potential tragedy, it’s worth it.”

“…You’re unsure, yet you speak as if you’re convinced,” Jacques said, frowning.

“Is that so?” Mael smiled calmly. His composed demeanor only deepened Jacques’s scowl.

Mael, with his refined upbringing, was the epitome of a noble-born knight. Jacques, on the other hand, was a street kid who didn’t even know his parents’ faces. He had survived countless near-death experiences since he was half his current height.

‘Has this young lord ever stained that expensive sword of his with blood?’ Jacques had wondered when Mael had been appointed captain of the Dumont knight order at the mere age of twenty-one.

Camille’s persuasive skills were exceptional. She wasn’t just articulate; she also expertly used her expressions and beauty. Even Jacques, seasoned by countless hardships, had almost been swayed by her. So, it wouldn’t have been difficult for her to wrap this naive young lord around her finger.

‘But…’

Despite his doubts, Jacques couldn’t deny that Mael had a point. No matter how slim the chance, if there was a possibility that Marcel Bache posed a threat to Ines, he couldn’t ignore it. The thought of Bache following Ines had sent his blood boiling.

Of course, there was a chance that Camille had fabricated the story. Jacques had been tailing Camille himself at the time and didn’t recall seeing Ines.

But it could have been a matter of perspective—Jacques might not have seen Ines from his angle. Besides, that was around the time Ines usually walked Titi every day.

“So, what exactly is your plan?” Jacques asked.

“That depends on whether Bache is at home or not,” Mael replied. “If he’s there, I’ll introduce myself and ask him to open the door. We knew each other from before, so if I say I’m curious about how he’s doing, he’ll likely let us in.”

“And if he doesn’t open the door or isn’t home?” Jacques inquired.

“That’s where you come in,” Mael said with a slight smile.

Jacques frowned deeply. “What do you think my job is, Mael? I’m a fixer. My main tasks are espionage and operations, not picking locks like some common thief.”

“Are you saying you can’t pick a lock?” Mael raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I can, but—”

“I thought so. While I might only be good with a sword, you have a range of skills. The Duke relies on you for various tasks, so I assumed breaking and entering would be within your capabilities.”

“……”

Jacques closed his mouth, taken aback by the unexpected praise.

Mael continued, smiling gently, “Thanks to you, we can avoid unnecessary attention. I appreciate it.”

“……”

Turning his head to the window, Jacques muttered under his breath. He still didn’t like Mael.

After a short ride, they arrived at the townhouse where Marcel Bache resided.

“Are you certain the man you saw entered this building?” Mael asked.

“…Yes,” Jacques confirmed.

“The Duchess said Bache lives in unit 202. Let’s confirm this with the manager.”

“That won’t be necessary. The tenant of 202 is indeed Marcel Bache,” Jacques stated.

Mael looked momentarily puzzled but then nodded. “I see. Of course, you would have already checked.”

“Let’s proceed,” Jacques said.

They entered the building and made their way to the second floor, stopping in front of unit 202. Mael knocked on the door.

“Marcel, are you in there? It’s Mael Cantona, from the Capital Knight Order four years ago.”

There was no response. Mael knocked again, a bit louder this time.

“Marcel? Are you not home?”

After waiting a moment with no answer, Mael turned to Jacques. “Keep watch.”

“Understood.”

Jacques knelt in front of the door and pulled out his lockpicking tools. Mael silently hoped, ‘If I’m wrong, I’m sorry, Marcel.’

About thirty seconds later, there was a click, and the door opened.

“Already? Impressive work,” Mael commented genuinely, impressed. Jacques, frowning slightly, said nothing.

The room was as dilapidated as the exterior of the building. The lighting was poor, and the air smelled musty. The sparse furniture included only a bed, a table, and a single dresser. Cockroaches scurried across the stained walls.

“…Looks like he really is just getting by with odd jobs,” Mael thought. Even the soldiers’ quarters at the Knight Order were cleaner than this.

“Living in a place like this, I wonder if he’s healthy,” Mael mused aloud.

“You’re worrying about someone who might be a murderer?” Jacques asked incredulously.

“That’s not confirmed yet.”

Jacques shook his head, a look of incomprehension on his face. “You might not see it that way, but many of the lower-class people in this city live in places worse than this room. In fact, this is quite decent. There’s a bed, and the ceiling isn’t caving in.”

“…I see.”

“Let’s hurry. We don’t know when he might return.”

“Okay.”

Mael and Jacques began searching the room. Mael meticulously inspected the bed, lifting the blankets and turning over the sheets. Jacques tackled the desk.

“Lots of books here,” Jacques noted.

“He always loved reading. He often spent his free time alone with a book,” Mael replied.

Jacques smirked as he sifted through the books. “Doesn’t seem like he was cut out to be a soldier. Leaving early was probably the right choice—” Jacques’s words abruptly halted.

Mael turned to see Jacques standing still, holding a book. “What’s wrong?”

Mael peered over at the book in Jacques’s hands. It wasn’t printed text; it was handwritten.

“This is… a diary?”

Mael’s eyes widened as he skimmed the pages. He instinctively took the book from Jacques.

The diary contained detailed observations about a woman. It recorded everything from the first day Marcel saw her, what she wore, her hairstyle, where she went, and what she did, all noted by date.

[I finally learned her name. The baker called her Ines. It suits her well.]

[Today, I finally greeted her. She smiled brightly when I said her dog was cute. I pretended to pet the dog to smell her. She had a faintly sweet scent. Does she like sweets?]

[She has a husband. Unfortunate. Women can’t be trusted. She must have known. Women like her are always dirty underneath. They roll in filth without shame. I should have learned from Valerie—]

The line trailing from the word ‘Valerie’ slashed across the page and continued onto the next, ending the diary abruptly.

“This bastard. I will tear you to death,” Jacques spat, his voice filled with murderous rage.

Mael flipped back to the earlier pages of the diary with a grim expression. As he suspected, there was a name—Valerie. The diary detailed Marcel’s obsessive infatuation with Valerie, his realization of her relationship with a patron, his ensuing rage, and ultimately, his decision to kill her.

‘…Unbelievable,’ Mael thought, horrified.

The Duchess’s words were true.