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Chapter Twenty-Two: The Wardrobe Lock

Auteur: Nasiá
last update Date de publication: 2026-11-04 23:37:00

“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 muc
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  • REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me.    Chapter Twenty-Nine: Eleven Clients, One Morning

    Madam Tan’s flat smelled of beeswax, black tea and a very good stew, and it was the first place in the Empire where Eliza had seen Julian Hargrove look like a man who might survive the week.He sat at a scrubbed oak table in an enormous cardigan, with Pickle’s head in his lap and a bowl in front of him the size of a hat. Beside him stood Odile, the cook, six feet of woman with a shaved head, forearms like fence posts and a broken nose she wore like a medal. She was ladling stew with the grim concentration of a person who had been told to feed someone and meant to be obeyed.“Eat,” she said.“I’ve had two bowls.”“Eat.”Julian ate.“She used to box,” said Madam Tan, coming in from the study with a magnifying glass on a ribbon round her neck. “Heavyweight. Twice a champion. She retired when she hit a man and he stayed hit.” She sat. “Eliza. You look dreadful.”“I had breakfast with the Blackwoods.”“That would do it.” She poured tea into three cups without asking. “You brought something

  • REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me.    Chapter Twenty-Eight: Breakfast with Gideon

    Gideon Blackwood was the kind of man who made a dining room feel like a courtroom with better china.He rose when Eliza entered, which nobody had warned her about. He was tall and silver-haired, in a charcoal suit that fit like a polite lie, with the same gray eyes as his son and none of the same weather in them. His smile was warm and entirely unhurried. He took her good hand in both of his, held it a second longer than courtesy required, and said, in a low pleasant voice, “Miss Sinclair. At last.”“Mr. Blackwood.”“Gideon, please. I never learned to answer to the other one.” He drew out her chair. “Xavier tells me nothing. It’s one of his finest qualities and the despair of my life.”“I don’t tell him nothing,” said Xavier, from the opposite end of the table. “I tell him what he needs.”“Which is nothing,” said Gideon, comfortably, and sat.It was a smaller room than the glass room, paneled in pale wood, with a table laid for six and a view of the east garden, where Ames was kneelin

  • REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me.    Chapter Twenty-Seven: The White Lotus

    “Well?” said the phone.Eliza looked at the cracked screen for a long moment. On the floor, one thug groaned and tried to roll over, and Julian helpfully patted him on the head with the atlas.She typed with her good thumb.Found him. Sunday’s fine.The reply came at once. Bring him to the usual place.“What’s the usual place?” whispered Rex.“I don’t know.” She turned the phone off and slid it into her sock. “Which is why we’re not going.”She rang Madam Tan from Mrs. Fenn’s ancient black telephone at twenty past eleven. It rang nine times. When it was answered, the voice at the other end was cool, clear and entirely awake.“Orsolya Tan.”“It’s Eliza Sinclair. I’m in a bindery on Gull Street with a banker’s son, a beagle and two men who need a doctor. I need somewhere safe for the boy tonight.”A pause.“Which banker?”“Hargrove.”“Ah,” said Madam Tan, with a depth of satisfaction usually reserved for good wine. “I’ll bring the car.”She arrived in forty minutes in a fur coat and car

  • REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me.    Chapter Twenty-Six: Gull Street

    “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Xavier had asked, and Eliza had looked him straight in the eye and said, “Pickle needs a bath.”It was not her best work. It had been delivered with a perfectly straight face, which was the only thing to be said for it.He had studied her for the length of one slow breath, and then he had nodded, once, and told Han to find the best veterinarian in the Empire and have the beagle brought to the kitchen by noon. He had not asked a second question. He had simply gone downstairs with the air of a man putting a very large and interesting file in a drawer he intended to open later.“That was a refusal,” Rex had said, as the door closed.“It was a bath.”“It was a declined Clause Nine, in spirit.”“It wasn’t a clause. He only asked.”“He’s going to remember.”“I know,” said Eliza, and spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to learn lines.At twenty to ten that night, the east wing was quiet. She stood at the back of her wardrobe in dark trousers

  • 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

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