Charitable

Jorgen met with Henrik Stone. They stood outside the blacksmith shop, and Henrik wiped sweat with a towel around his neck.

"Is that woman... dead?"

"As it stands now, yes."

"Where is she buried?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"No. I don't."

Henrik sat on the steps in front of the door, gazing at the ground. After a moment of silence, he looked up and said, "So, you still haven't seen her."

"I've seen her grave. There's no name on it."

"Oh." Henrik seemed to mutter to himself. "So, only Father knows what she looks like."

"Her appearance doesn't matter to you. In fact, it doesn't matter to anyone now."

"Why did she leave my father?"

"She was pregnant. The cause of death was a childbirth accident."

"The child died too?"

"Yes."

"So, I might have had a brother or sister... dead in a place I'll never know."

"I'm skeptical of that statement."

"What do you mean?"

"Simply put, there's no evidence that the child Gythra was carrying was your father's. Of course, that's just one possibility."

"Tell me everything you've got, Jorgen."

"These are all speculations with no definite conclusions. And regardless of the actual circumstances, Gythra can no longer affect your life."

Suddenly, Henrik raised his voice, and his eyes showed a perplexed anger. "I'm not paying you a small sum. Every coin has to be worth it. Tell me everything."

After saying this, he realized he was facing the street, attracting many onlookers. He stood up, taking Jorgen to the back of the house against the wall.

"First of all," Jorgen said, "your father has been buying black market medication for Gythra's heart condition. According to the pharmacy, he's a big customer."

"He did use some money from the ledger; I know that. But I didn't expect... heart medicine? Really? My father is a very distrustful person when it comes to medicine."

"That's why it shows how desperate Holmyr is to protect Gythra. Although I don't know the exact nature of her condition, most heart patients are not suitable for childbirth. The process poses a significant strain on the heart, and severely ill patients may even need to terminate the pregnancy. It's hard to imagine your father allowing Gythra to have a child—given his concern for her health. But for some reason, Gythra decided to become a mother. Maybe she discussed it with your father, and it went sour, or perhaps she never brought it up. From the information you provided, it seems to be the latter."

"So she... just left like that?"

"She hid in an apartment. It's not a special place, so your father probably never knew her address; otherwise, there's no reason not to find her. This is just a speculation but currently seems the most reasonable. Her death can also be explained."

"Do you have any other findings?"

"Pay attention, Henrik. This speculation has nothing to do with whether Gythra was carrying your father's child or not."

"Oh, you mean she might have had other men." Henrik took a heavy breath. "That whore."

Jorgen could see the conflicting emotions Henrik harbored towards his father. He hated his father for abandoning the family for a stranger but was simultaneously angered at the possibility of that woman being unfaithful to his father. While Jorgen didn't understand why he repeatedly advised Henrik not to delve too deep, these attempts were evidently futile.

"You need to calm down. Otherwise, I won't tell you anything."

"I'm fine."

"Henrik, does your father smoke? I've never seen him."

"He quit smoking shortly after I was born. Not only that, he can't stand others smoking around him." Henrik raised the back of his right hand. "See this scar? When I was eleven, I secretly tried smoking, and he found out. He took the cigarette and pressed it on here—taught me not to touch that stuff like that."

"Good. This way, we can be sure Gythra shouldn't smoke. On the one hand, your father wouldn't tolerate it, and on the other hand, since she intended to risk childbirth with a heart condition, she wouldn't be foolish enough to use tobacco to increase the risk. But I found many cigarette burns on the table in her room, a rude behavior expressing extreme anxiety—perhaps belonging to someone else."

"That must be another man. This person wanted her to have a child."

"There's no clear evidence for that; don't consider it a conclusion."

"Oh, it must be another man. She and this man deceived my father."

He obviously didn't listen. Jorgen said, "Anyway, my job ends here."

"But I still don't know who the other man is!"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? This is just speculation, and there might not even be such a person. Gythra's landlord also mentioned not seeing any special person visiting her."

"There must be. You have to find it for me. I'll pay you half now, and the rest when you find that man. If you really don't want to, just give me the address of the apartment; I'll handle it myself... No, I can't let it go like this! Jorgen, you have to continue helping me investigate."

"What did you say?"

"I said this matter isn't over yet."

"Are you negotiating with me? Do you think I'm some kind of private detective?" Jorgen approached Henrik, staring at him.

"No, I just feel—"

"Don't use your head to draw conclusions on this matter; you can't do it. You're just a blacksmith, nothing else. I've already told you the fate of that woman, and that's all you need to know. The rest is to forget there was ever such a woman, forget about what happened between her and your father, and then live your own life. Anything else to say?"

"No." Henrik looked away. Although he clearly harbored dissatisfaction, he soon realized he had no leverage to negotiate with Jorgen.

Jorgen couldn't leave Henrik a chance to tear up the agreement. Even though this was a private investigation that couldn't be disclosed, he still needed to use the detective's deterrent power to avoid unnecessary trouble. Plus, he needed that money, especially after the meeting with Lindy.

Around seven in the morning, Dalia woke up. She and her maid and the temporarily hired help moved some large wooden boxes filled with things to the grassy area outside a side door of a small monastery. This used to be one of the locations where charitable organizations held fundraising events. She spent several hours setting up frames, arranging tables and chairs, and hanging banners to indicate it was a charity sale. Dalia planned to use all the proceeds from this event to fill the deficit of the organization; although Lindy promised to take on all the debts, she still wanted to do this.

To attract more people, she had distributed flyers among the nearby residents in advance. Considering her current reputation, this was somewhat risky. Perhaps precisely because of this, she chose this location—relatively secluded, with residents around having a mild attitude. When they first arrived, there was a little rain, but it stopped after most of the setup was done. Not long after, three or four people appeared at the venue, but they seemed more like passersby, stopping out of curiosity.

Dalia stood behind a table at the back of the venue, hands resting on the tabletop, lost in thought. A nun she was somewhat familiar with came up to her, and after exchanging greetings, Dalia said, "Thank you for helping me persuade the abbess. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to use this lawn today."

"I just spoke a few words; it's nothing compared to your good deeds."

"You don't have to say that."

The nun surveyed the entire lawn. "These things... are they from your house?"

"Yes. I don't need them anymore."

"The quantity is astonishing, and there are many wonderful art pieces." The nun turned to Dalia. "I always thought you were living a more austere life."

"Oh." Dalia didn't know how to respond. The nun smiled, a very natural smile, but it seemed to be because her facial muscles were good at expressing such naturalness.

"This one is really beautiful." The nun took a few steps forward, picking up a small candlestick. "How much is it worth?"

"Twelve silver coins."

"That's a bit expensive. Although the buyer mainly pays with kindness rather than money at a charity sale, the price should be affordable to give people a chance to show kindness, right? Sorry, I'm not an expert, just expressing my thoughts."

She had never spoken to me like this before.

"If you need it, you can take it for free. It's my gift."

"Oh, can I really?" The nun hugged the candlestick, returned to Dalia's side, looked around but didn't say anything.

"Is there anything else?"

"I didn't see your husband here."

"He's busy."

"Although this is your private matter... the public generally agrees that those engaged in charity work must lead a restrained life with admirable integrity. This ensures they keep their cause on the right track, and this includes marriage as a prerequisite for taking the sacred oath. Of course, this is not an absolute rule, just a prevailing notion that doesn't apply to everyone. I believe your long-term benevolence has already left no doubt about your excellent character. However, one can never make everyone fully understand them, which is also a tragic fact."

"This has nothing to do with what I'm doing today."

"I'm just talking casually; please don't mind. But there's one more thing. Ah, this is really hard to say."

Dalia didn't look at her. "Just say it."

"The abbess reminded me that this is the last time you're allowed to hold an event here. Don't misunderstand; we have no doubts about the purity of your work. But in any case, you're an unbeliever, and the monastery is a place where sacred duties are performed..."

"Take your stuff and leave," Dalia said, "don't bother me anymore."

"How... how rude!"

Dalia heard the person beside her leaving in quick steps. She didn't look up, and the four fingers of her right hand clung tightly under the table corner.