62.
Look at this bastard? Rosetta couldn’t hide her contemptuous glare for a moment. The Turner she remembered wasn’t someone so brazen. He used to crawl on his knees, terrified of even slightly upsetting her. And what? Died caught up in that incident four years ago? Don’t spew nonsense without limits. Then who the hell is this man standing right in front of me, very much alive?
“Who told you that name?”
Judging by those shifty eyes, it was one of two possibilities—either he had a deceased twin brother, or ‘Turner’ was an alias he only used back then. Rosetta bet on the latter.
“Heard it from someone I know.”
“Someone you know? Who?”
Rosetta suppressed the urge to snap back sharply. Revealing everything to someone who traded information was foolish. She clenched her jaw and forcefully slapped away the man’s hand gripping her collar. Surprisingly, the hand let go without resistance. Rosetta bared her teeth fiercely.
“Listen, I came here to buy information. Not to sell it.”
At that, Turner curled his thin lips upward in amusement.
“Suddenly bringing up a name you haven’t heard in four years, yet refusing to say where you got it? And you’ve apparently been coming and going enough to know information is traded here—but I swear, I’ve never once seen your face… Wait a moment.”
Turner stopped mid-sentence, suddenly wearing a strange expression.
“Could it be… you—no, you—surely not…”
Rosetta pulled out a money pouch and slapped it onto the table, intending to silence Turner’s mouth. A few gold coins bounced out through the loosened opening. Turner burst into a dry laugh, glancing back and forth between the pouch and Rosetta’s face. He picked up one coin, examined it closely, then bit it with his teeth.
“Real gold.”
Using his hand like a rake, he swept the pouch into the drawer. Then, he opened his palm and gestured toward the chair opposite her. When she sat down, he poured cold tea into a chipped teacup and asked,
“Well then. What would you like to know?”
His tone had subtly shifted into a vague, half-polite form—seemingly having figured out her identity. Yes, now he sounded more like the Turner she remembered. Rosetta relaxed slightly, leaning back into the soft cushion of the chair.
“First. There’s a woman waiting for me at the central square. Time is already tight, so tell her to stay put and not move from there. If you deliver this…”
Rosetta hesitated, about to remove the wedding ring from her finger. Showing it would confirm her identity, but if it were lost… She faltered and lowered her hand.
“Just make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. But don’t use force.”
At that, Turner stood and went downstairs. Soon after, grumbling noises and the sound of something clattering noisily echoed up, and then he returned, his expression now composed.
“If there’s a first, there must be a second?”
“The second is the whereabouts of retired sailors who once worked in Toulon. Ideally, those who’ve completely left seafaring life.”
“…You’re seriously stirring up curiosity, aren’t you?”
She pretended calmness, smoothing the teacup with her fingers. Of course, she had no intention of drinking the suspicious liquid inside—but it served well to divert attention.
She had expected it would seem suspicious when she first decided to seek out Turner. Informants were unpredictable people, and she’d even anticipated that the name ‘Turner’ might still hold weight here as some old unwritten rule… She had expected, to some extent, all of this.
Even so, it was worth enduring. Informants upheld their clients’ lives and identities as credit, and as far as she knew, there was no better informant than Turner in this messy eastern district.
“Fine then.”
He stroked his jaw, where stubble was beginning to grow.
“Purpose? Revenge?”
“No.”
“Then not a lovers’ quarrel either.”
“I don’t care what you think. Can you do it, or not?”
“I can, of course. Do you have any idea how much my reputation would plummet if I said ‘no’ in this business?”
“Then that settles it.”
“It’s just… a noble lady from Valdemore suddenly seeking information about the Crimson Dawn… I can’t figure out why.”
“…”
“Ah, could it be…”
He trailed off, suddenly appearing as if something had dawned on him. Resting his chin on his hand, he began chuckling quietly, like someone who’d discovered something amusing. With an utterly detestable expression.
“Am I even allowed to say this?”
“What?”
“Your husband apparently used to follow that woman—the Crimson Dawn—around for a while.”
“…”
A sudden cough burst out, as if a relaxed breath had been pierced. Just how widespread, and in what manner, had such rumors spread? Her head throbbed. Aside from that, the excuse Nick had provided was proving to be an excellent cover. Rosetta waved a hand dismissively and quickly responded.
“Yes. I have a few things I’d like to investigate related to that.”
“Ah. In that case.”
Turner searched through the stack of parchment scattered across the desk, found a clean sheet, and laid it flat. Then, with a quill heavily dipped in ink, he began writing smoothly. In moments, a contract was completed—detailing deposit and final payment, the appropriate time to deliver the information, and several precautions. He handed the parchment to her and asked,
“There. That should do it? A thoroughly honest and decent agreement.”
“…”
…Damn it. Has all sense of decency died in you? What’s decent about this? Every single term is outrageous.
The deposit was exorbitantly high, the final payment over three times the deposit, and the time to receive the information was ten days. Roughly ten times what she’d normally pay. What made it even worse was the reality that she’d have to quietly accept these absurd terms. Rosetta returned the parchment with a sour expression and added a condition.
“In return, you must arrange for me to meet that person directly.”
“Oh. That’ll cost extra.”
Turner replied politely, smiling cheerfully. Rosetta widened her eyes and clenched her teeth, then in the next moment lowered her gaze gracefully, as if nothing had happened. Damn it. He’s found himself a perfect sucker.
“I can pay… more, of course.”
“Ah. If you have the money, I could even bring the person right into this room. Alive and kicking.”
“…That won’t be necessary. Of course, they must remain alive.”
He let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by her reaction. Turner filled in the additional terms densely on the parchment and signed at the bottom with an elegant script. Then he handed the quill and parchment to Rosetta. Just before signing, she slightly pulled the quill back and added one more condition.
“One last thing.”
“I don’t mind. But how much more additional payment are we talking about?”
…Money-obsessed bastard, I’d tear you apart and pickle you in salt. Rosetta muttered every curse under her breath as she pulled out another gold coin from her pocket. She flicked it into the air with her thumb and index finger. Turner caught it neatly.
“I’ll need someone to escort me on the way back.”
He smiled smoothly, his lips curling upward.
“For that, I’ll personally see you off.”
* * *
“That’s how it happened.”
As soon as Turner finished speaking, he pulled a flat flask from his coat and gulped down several large swallows, as if it were his rightful reward for the effort. Despite his insolent manner, Cardier’s face remained utterly still and cold.
“So.”
It was the first time Cardier’s lips had parted since the man began his rambling tale. His voice was soft, almost soothing—so much so it could melt eardrums—but sharp in tone. He wrinkled his brow wearily and tilted his head slightly.
“You sold your so-called virtue of credibility—wherever you pawned it cheaply—and then came to me to confess your wife’s affairs?”
Turner nearly missed the hostility lurking beneath Cardier’s calm expression, momentarily fooled by the smooth, cutting voice. He blinked in feigned surprise and burst into laughter.
“Confess? Depending on perspective, I suppose you could see it that way. But I’m merely acting out of concern for the young countess…”
“I’ll handle my wife’s concerns just fine. You stick to your own work.”
“…Are you truly asking me to accept that request? A noblewoman seeking a pirate?”
“You’ve already accepted my wife’s request, haven’t you?”
“Well, yes, technically…”
“Merchants hold credibility as their virtue. As you’ve so often claimed with your cheap mouth.”
“I’m not cheap at all…”
Cardier twisted his lips, looking down at him with eyes that dismissed the matter as mere pocket change. Turner quietly acquiesced. Damn it. Fine. I’m cheap.
Ex-husband Wants Reconciliation
One-line summary: Chasing the wife to the crematorium (making an effort to attract someone who has become indifferent), the female lead doesn’t look back, the second male lead takes the position.
Intro:
To repay the kindness of the older generation, Su Mu crossed into a female-dominated world and became a live-in daughter-in-law of the Yan family, single-handedly saving the Yan family from fire and water.
But her husband, Yan Jiyue, the eldest son of the Yan family, treated her with sarcasm and never showed her a good face.
It wasn’t until after Su Mu’s death that this pampered and arrogant young master shed a few fake tears and pretended to want to die for love.
This life’s kindness was enough. If there was a next life, she would definitely kick Yan Jiyue away.
Who knew that the heavens would be so kind as to allow her to be reborn, returning to the time when she had just married into the Yan family.
Su Mu glanced at the Yan eldest son, who still spoke coldly to her, and threw a divorce letter in front of him.
“Let’s divorce!”
***
Yan Jiyue never imagined that he would be reborn. He happily went to find Su Mu, wanting to make up for the mistakes he had made in his ignorant youth.
Wasn’t the reason the heavens allowed him to be reborn to let him reconcile with Su Mu?
But when he pushed open the door to Su Mu’s room, the person lying on the bed was another man.
Su Mu’s personal attendant, Xie Yi.
Yan Jiyue hated him so much that his teeth itched. In front of Su Mu, Xie Yi was a gentle and considerate whisperer of sweet nothings, but in reality, he was vicious-hearted and deliberately sabotaged their husband and wife relationship.
In the previous life, it was he who secretly hid in Su Mu’s coffin and committed suicide, stealing a step ahead of him to be buried with Su Mu.
Yan Jiyue’s eyes were filled with hatred as he cursed, “What kind of thing are you? Your background is lowly, what right do you have to occupy Su Mu?”
Xie Yi looked at the sleeping Su Mu and no longer pretended to be a whisperer of sweet nothings.
He proudly stuck out his belly, “I have the right because my belly is capable of giving the Wife-master a daughter.”
***
Yan Jiyue was consumed with jealousy. He spread rumors that Xie Yi had once been branded with the mark of a “harlot” on his chest.
But on the night Xie Yi cut off the flesh bearing that mark, Su Mu suddenly realized something was amiss.
“How did you know the exact moment I was poisoned? And why did you show up a month early?”
Xie Yi remained silent, blood from his wound soaking through his robes. His sapphire eyes brimmed with anguish – or was it just a flawless act?
Between a once-arrogant husband now seeking redemption, and a gentle soul willing to die for her – who truly held the darkest secrets? And could it be that Su Mu and Yan Jiyue weren’t the only ones given a second chance at life…?
[Reading Guide]
1. True divorce, chasing the wife to the crematorium, the female lead doesn’t look back, the male lead is Xie Yi.
2. The ex-husband did not cheat, he just realized too late and didn’t realize that he liked the female lead.
_____
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