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Chapter Twenty: The House That Locked Itself
Data de publicação:
2026-11-03 22:24:17
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REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me. Chapter Twenty-Five: The Dog Who Walked Across the City
His name was Pickle. It said so on the second tag, under HARGROVE, in a looping hand that looked like a child’s and probably belonged to a very old woman who had loved him. He sat in the middle of Eliza’s bedroom floor in a nest of towels, steaming gently, and looked at the room with the mournful, trusting eyes of a creature who had walked eleven miles and had opinions about it.“He needs soup,” said Eliza.“He needs a bath,” said Pell, from the doorway, with a face of cold marble. “I have taken the liberty of fetching a bowl. I would like it recorded that I did not touch the animal.”“You carried him in.”“In a towel.”“That counts.”“It does not,” said Pell, and put the bowl down with great ceremony and withdrew.Pickle ate the soup in four seconds. Then he turned his head and looked at the foot of the bed, where a small gold shape was sitting very still with its ears flattened, and his tail began to thump against the floor.“He can see me,” said Rex.“He’s a dog.”“No one can see m
REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me. Chapter Twenty-Four: The Man with the Shears
The gardener was kneeling at the edge of the east bed with a trowel in one hand and a half-dead rose in the other, and he did not look up when Eliza crossed the grass.“Dew’s gone,” he said. “You’re allowed out now.”“I was told nobody in the east garden before nine.”“It’s a quarter past.” He set the rose down on a square of sacking with great gentleness. He was perhaps sixty, lean and brown, with a weathered face that gave nothing away and hands that had clearly spent a lot of time doing things they weren’t supposed to be good at. His cap was pulled low. “The head gardener has opinions about dew. I have opinions about people who stand at windows.”“Rex,” Eliza said quietly.“I’d like it noted,” said Rex, wedged into her collar, “that I do not like this man. His hands are too clean.”“Who are you?”“Ames. I do the roses.” The trowel went into the soil, turned once, came out. “Mostly.”“And the rest?”“Mostly means mostly.”She waited. A bee drifted by, considered her splint, and move
REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me. Chapter Twenty-Three: A Wrong Number
“Veronica,” said Henry, over breakfast, with the air of a man naming a rash. “Xavier’s father’s wife. She married him eleven years ago, when my son was still pretending to be a widower.”They were sitting at opposite ends of the long white table, in the glass room, because the old man had decided at seven that the dining room was too full of listening ears. Xavier had gone out at dawn with Han. Chloe was still asleep in the blue room. A fern dripped. Pell, standing at a respectful twenty feet, appeared to be polishing a spoon that had been clean for an hour.“She called twice,” said Eliza. “She asked whether the glass room had been disturbed.”“She’s checking.” Henry stirred his tea. “If she took it, she’d want to know whether anyone had noticed. If she didn’t, she’s been told it’s gone and wants to know how fast the news is travelling.”“Which would you bet on?”“I don’t gamble. I appraise.” He tilted his head. “She smells of money, you know. Not lilies. Lilies are a more honest pers
REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me. Chapter Twenty-Two: The Wardrobe Lock
“Dew,” said Rex. “It has dew on it, Eliza. That lily was outside an hour ago.”“I can see.”“Then how did it get in? Both locks. I counted.”She did not answer. She was already on her knees at the door, running a fingertip along the lower edge of the frame, checking the hinges and the threshold, the vent over the bed and the gap under the window. Nothing had been forced. Nothing was loose. The balcony door was still locked from the inside, and the white roses on the desk had not moved by so much as a petal.“Pell said five locks,” she said. “Two on the door. One on the balcony. One on the bathroom. And one on the wardrobe, which he didn’t understand.”“A wardrobe lock is not an unusual…”“Who locks a wardrobe?”Rex considered this. “People with a great deal of jewelry,” he said. “Or secrets. But I have not seen you own either.”The wardrobe was a tall dark oak thing in the corner, carved with vines, and its key was, naturally, in the lock. She turned it. The doors swung open on a row
REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me. Chapter Twenty-One: The Sleeper
“Small feet,” said Eliza. “A woman’s, or a very careful man’s. Size five, perhaps six. Narrow heel, no more than an inch and a half. She walked in without hurrying, because she knew the room would be empty, and she walked out the same way, because nothing she had done tonight was a secret to her.”Old Mr. Blackwood stood very still in the doorway, with the lamp throwing a small gold circle on the dust.“Go on.”“She had the key. The lock wasn’t forced, and the catch on the chest was cleaned. I’d say Tuesday or Wednesday, not later.” She wiped her hand on her trousers. “And she smelled of lilies.”“Lilies,” said the old man.“Rex says so.”“Who is Rex?”“A friend with a very good nose,” said Eliza, and felt a small, gold, indignant shape bristle on her shoulder.He did not ask her to explain. He did not seem to need to. He crossed the room in his slippers with great care, so as not to disturb the line of prints, and stopped beside the chest. His eyes dropped to the faded blue velvet an
REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me. Chapter Twenty: The House That Locked Itself
Eliza’s luggage consisted of one canvas bag, a scarf-wrapped lump of imperial green jade and a rabbit nobody else could see. Han carried all of it up the front steps of the Blackwood house with the grave tenderness of a man bearing a small coffin.“Miss Sinclair’s suite,” said the butler, whose name, it turned out, was Pell. He opened a door on the east wing and stood aside. “Mr. Blackwood has asked me to explain the locks.”“There’s more than one?”“There are two on the door, one on the balcony, one on the wardrobe, which I don’t understand, and one on the bathroom.” He cleared his throat. “Mr. Blackwood said, and I quote, that you would likely want a great many.”The room was large and pale, with a bed the size of a small country and a balcony that looked out over the garden. Somebody had put a vase of white roses on the desk. Beside it lay a single folded card in a firm, upright hand.Dinner is at seven. Pell will show you where things are. I do not enter without knocking. X.She r
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