case two:The Vanishing of Lady Evelyn

Celeste picked up the new case file sitting neatly atop her desk, the crimson wax seal still fresh.

Celeste (muttering):

"I just solved one of the most horrendous cases this city's ever seen… and you're already tossing another my way?"

Across from her, Cedric stood leaning against the bookshelf, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Cedric:

"You're not the type to take long vacations, Miss Walker. And besides—this one isn't as bloody… just a bit strange."

Celeste narrowed her violet eyes, flipping the file open with a practiced hand. Her gaze danced across the first page. No photo. No obvious victim. Just a name… and a request.

Celeste:

"Strange, huh? That's your way of saying this one doesn't make sense to your men."

Cedric (grinning):

"Exactly. Thought it might be your kind of riddle."

She leaned back in her chair, fingertips steepled.

Celeste:

"Alright, Cedric. Let's see just how twisted this 'not-so-bloody' case of yours really is."

Missing Person Case – Subject: Lady Evelyne Hargrave

Last seen: Three nights ago at the Hargrave estate during a private dinner party.

Notes:

No signs of forced entry or struggle.

Attendees claim she simply "vanished" after excusing herself to her room.

Multiple servants reported hearing strange knocking sounds from inside her locked room, but when they entered, she was gone.

All windows were locked from the inside.

No witnesses saw her leave.

No ransom note or demands.

Her younger brother, Damian Hargrave, filed the report.

The family requests absolute discretion due to their noble status.

Celeste raised an eyebrow, then sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

Celeste:

"Definitely not bloody… but messy."

She flipped to the second page—guest lists, estate layout, timestamps. Then to the third—servant statements, all eerily similar. One even mentioned feeling cold, as if a draft had passed through a sealed room.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, then gave Cedric a side glance.

Celeste:

"Are you serious, Cedric? This is the kind of headache nobles should hire exorcists for. And you're dumping it on me?"

Cedric (grinning):

"You're the only one who can sort lies from illusion. And between you and me, my officers are still recovering from the last mess you stirred up. You solve this, we both look good."

Celeste:

"You're giving me more work than half the precinct combined…"

She closed the file with a sigh, then stood up and grabbed her coat.

Celeste:

"Fine. I'll visit the Hargrave estate tonight. If their Lady vanished into thin air, I'll be the one to pull her back down."

Cedric gave her a light smirk as she stood, adjusting her coat.

Cedric:

"I wish you safe travels, Miss Walker."

Celeste paused at the door, casting a glance over her shoulder, violet eyes glinting beneath dyed lashes.

Celeste:

"Don't say something you don't mean, Cedric."

She stepped out, her silhouette swallowed by the soft glow of the lanterns outside the precinct, the case file tucked neatly under one arm—another mystery waiting to be unraveled.

After a quiet journey through the forested outskirts of Silverpalace, Celeste finally arrived at the Hargrave estate. The manor loomed under a cloudy sky, dignified yet weighed down by the silence that often followed tragedy. A steward greeted her and quickly led her to the main doors, where the Hargrave family awaited.

A tall man with deep creases on his face stepped forward — Lord Elias Hargrave, patriarch of the family.

Lord Hargrave:

"You must be Miss Emma Walker. We're grateful you came on such short notice."

Celeste (with a polite nod):

"Thank you for receiving me. I was informed that your daughter, Evelyn Hargrave, went missing?"

Lady Hargrave, standing beside her husband, looked pale. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her shawl.

Lady Hargrave:

"Yes… two nights ago. She was here in the evening… and by morning, she was gone. No note, no sounds during the night… nothing."

Celeste:

"No signs of forced entry?"

Lord Hargrave (shaking his head):

"None. Everything in the house was in order. It's as if she simply vanished."

Celeste:

"I'd like to examine her room. The smallest detail could matter."

Lord Hargrave:

"Of course. Margaret—take Miss Walker upstairs."

A young maid named Margaret gave a nervous curtsy and led Celeste up a grand staircase, then down a carpeted hallway toward Evelyn's room.

The bedroom was immaculate. Too immaculate.

Celeste (softly, to herself):

"Either she left willingly… or someone made sure to erase every trace."

Margaret (hesitantly):

"Miss Evelyn… she wasn't herself lately. She'd spend hours at the window. Talking… whispering things."

Celeste (turning to her):

"What kind of things?"

Margaret:

"She kept saying she heard voices. From the forest. She wrote in her journal every night—pages and pages—but she never let anyone see it."

Celeste nodded, her sharp violet eyes scanning the room. She walked to the desk near the window. There, half-hidden under a stack of books, lay a leather-bound notebook.

She flipped through the pages.

Messy handwriting. Torn pages. At the very end, a strange line caught her attention:

"The trees know my name. They call for me when the moon is high."

Celeste closed the notebook slowly.

Celeste (under her breath):

"This isn't just a disappearance. This is the start of something else."

After examining the room and slipping Evelyn's journal into her coat, Celeste descended the stairs and re-entered the drawing room where Lord and Lady Hargrave waited with tight-laced anxiety.

Celeste (calmly):

"I've reviewed your daughter's room and read part of her journal."

Lady Hargrave (desperately):

"Did you find something? Anything?"

Celeste (measured):

"There are two possible theories at the moment. Either Evelyn ran away willingly, or… she followed a voice she believed she heard — something calling to her from the forest."

Lord Hargrave (frowning):

"She… she did mention strange things before. But we thought it was stress, nothing more."

Celeste gave a slight nod.

Celeste:

"It reminds me of a case I worked on years ago. A string of disappearances linked to tales of whispering voices in the woods — believed to be the work of fairies or spirits."

Lady Hargrave (whispers):

"You think she was taken by… a fairy?"

Celeste:

"That's the curious part. Fairies — at least the kind that meddle with mortals — don't lure people using illusions of trees or mimic loved ones' voices. And they certainly don't erase all traces. This feels like a prank of theirs… but it's off. There's something missing."

She paused, then added firmly:

Celeste:

"But don't worry. No matter how strange the circumstances, I've dealt with worse. I'll do everything in my power to bring your daughter back safely."

Lord Hargrave (grateful but cautious):

"If there's anything you need from us…"

Celeste (nodding):

"Access to the forest edge, a quiet place to set up observation, and perhaps a list of anyone Evelyn might've spoken to in the last week."

She turned toward the window, eyes narrowing on the dark stretch of woods beyond the estate.

Celeste (softly):

"If something is in those trees… I'll find it."

Celeste adjusted her coat collar and stepped beyond the worn stone arch that marked the entrance to the Hargrave woods. The trees stretched tall and silent, casting long shadows in the morning light. It was too bright for fairy folk, at least according to the stories. But Celeste knew better than to dismiss the unseen.

Her boots pressed softly into the earth as she moved past thorny bushes and moss-covered roots. The forest was quiet — too quiet.

"Fairies don't come out during the day," she murmured to herself, kneeling beside a faint, almost erased imprint in the dirt. "But someone did."

Carefully, she followed the trail — barely visible, fading quickly. The spacing between the steps, the depth of the heel — they matched the weight of a young woman. The trail curved unnaturally, weaving in zigzags before straightening again, as if Evelyn had been… dazed.

"She was following something… or someone."

Celeste took out a small metal mirror from her coat and scanned the area. A faint shimmer flickered across a nearby tree bark. Almost undetectable.

"An illusion ward?" she whispered. "But imperfectly cast."

She ran her gloved fingers just above the shimmering air — not touching it. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, before flickering out.

Her gaze sharpened.

The footprints stopped at the base of an old tree with gnarled roots, and Celeste circled the area. Something about this spot felt off. Not magical in the traditional sense, but staged.

She knelt and brushed away a patch of leaves — revealing a torn scrap of silk fabric tangled in a low branch.

Celeste (softly):

"Evelyn… you were here."

She stood, clutching the fabric tightly. Her voice was calm, but her violet eyes burned with resolve.

"And I will find where you were taken."

After scouting for almost 30 minutes, the faint footprints she had been following came to an abrupt end near a cluster of knotted tree roots.

Celeste crouched down and examined the ground once more. The dirt was undisturbed—no drag marks, no heel impressions, no signs of someone being carried.

Celeste (murmuring):

"This is troublesome… To think the footprints end here…"

She slowly rose to her feet, eyes scanning the area. Birds chirped faintly in the distance, but the forest still held a strange stillness. The wind whispered through the trees, brushing her lavender-dyed bangs aside.

"No struggle, no signs of a carriage or other tracks…"

She stepped slowly around the area. Her gloved hand ran along the bark of one of the nearby trees, feeling for illusions, triggers, glyphs—anything out of place.

Celeste:

"Did she vanish into thin air? Or did something—no, someone—help her vanish?"

She took a few paces back and stared at the surrounding woods.

Celeste (to herself):

"Fairies wouldn't have this kind of precision. A girl walking into the woods, lured by something… leaves no trace after a certain point. Either a magical trap… or a hidden path."

Her gaze dropped to a patch of moss growing unnaturally in the shape of a perfect circle around a root.

She raised a brow.

"Interesting."

She pulled out a small blade and gently scraped at the moss. Underneath was not soil—but stone. And engraved into the stone was a faint symbol—one she had seen before in obscure folklore journals.

A summoning circle.

Celeste:

"…Now that's something I didn't expect."

She took out her notebook and began scribbling.

"Someone didn't just lure Evelyn away… they summoned her destination."

As she jotted the rune into her notebook, her instincts suddenly tensed. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

A low growl echoed from behind the trees.

She slowly looked up—and her violet eyes narrowed. In the dim forest light, five pairs of glowing eyes gleamed in the underbrush. A pack of wolves—big, lean, and clearly not afraid of humans—began circling her, their footsteps silent over the leaves.

Celeste calmly closed her notebook with one hand.

With the other, she reached into her coat and drew her sleek black sidearm.

Celeste (cold and unimpressed):

"I'm a bit busy right now…"

clicks the safety off

"…Why don't you go hunt somewhere else?"

One of the wolves bared its teeth, ready to pounce.

Celeste (raising her gun, unfazed):

"Last warning."

The lead wolf leapt forward—fast, snarling, eyes locked on her throat.

Bang.

The shot echoed through the woods. The wolf yelped and tumbled to the side, grazed—not killed.

The rest of the pack growled louder, pausing for only a moment.

Celeste (flatly):

"Right. The hard way it is, then."

She moved with the cold precision of a former S.T.A.T.S. operative, dodging to the side, firing warning shots into the ground and trees—not to kill, but to control.

After a tense few minutes, the pack, intimidated and disoriented, finally scattered into the woods.

Celeste holstered her weapon and exhaled softly, brushing dirt from her coat.

Celeste (muttering):

"Let's hope Evelyn didn't run into them."

She turned back to the circle.

Celeste:

"Wherever this leads… I'd better be ready."

As the last wolf vanished into the brush, silence returned to the forest—too silent.

Celeste stood still, lowering her firearm, deep in thought.

Then it struck her.

Celeste (murmuring):

"How would a sheltered noblewoman—someone without a sword, a gun, or even survival training—survive a forest like this? At night, no less...?"

She glanced back at the forest trail.

No blood. No signs of a struggle. Only faint footprints.

Celeste:

"She would've been devoured by beasts within the hour… unless—"

Her eyes narrowed.

Celeste (thinking):

"What if this wasn't a case of fairy mischief after all? What if Evelyn Hargrave didn't disappear… but ran?

Willingly. Or… under someone's guidance."

She turned and began walking briskly back toward the Hargrave estate, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the path ahead.

Celeste (voice steady):

"Possibilities… Her parents might be forcing her into a marriage she detests. Or maybe… a secret lover no one knows about. A rendezvous gone wrong?"

The estate gates creaked open as she stepped through, the butler waiting with polite curiosity.

Celeste (to the butler):

"Prepare the drawing room. I have a few more questions for Lord and Lady Hargrave. Preferably… without interruption."

She strode inside, her detective's mind racing.

Whatever happened to Evelyn Hargrave… this was no accident.

As she entered the drawing room, Celeste found the Lord and Lady Hargrave already seated, their expressions tense beneath a veil of courtesy.

She gave a polite bow.

Celeste: "Thank you for making time for me."

Lady Hargrave (nervously): "Of course, Miss Walker. Please, anything to help bring our daughter home."

Celeste took her seat, calmly setting her notebook on the table and uncapping her pen.

Celeste: "I'd like to ask a few questions to clarify the situation. I hope you'll answer honestly—it may help narrow down our options."

Lord Hargrave (sternly): "Naturally. We'll cooperate in any way we can."

Celeste (gently): "Was Evelyn… expected to marry soon? Any recent engagement talks, arrangements, or meetings with suitors?"

The Lady shifted uncomfortably.

Lady Hargrave: "There were… discussions, yes. Nothing finalized. Evelyn can be… sensitive about such matters."

Celeste (writing in her notebook): "Did she express resistance toward those discussions? A particular suitor she was against?"

Lord Hargrave (with a sigh): "She wasn't pleased with the idea, but it was for the benefit of the house. We didn't expect her to—run."

Celeste's pen paused briefly. Her voice lowered slightly.

Celeste: "Did she have any close acquaintances outside noble society? Servants? Tutors? Anyone she saw in private?"

Lady Hargrave: "She had a music tutor… a commoner, but I assure you, nothing inappropriate."

Celeste noted the slight hesitation.

Celeste (quietly): "I see. One last question for now… Has Evelyn ever expressed interest in the fairy or forest folklore before her disappearance?"

Lord Hargrave (frowning): "No more than any other child raised on bedtime tales. Why?"

Celeste closed her notebook.

Celeste: "Because the current theory is either fairy mischief or a clever cover for something human. Either way… the truth will come out."

She stood with quiet poise.

Celeste: "Thank you for your cooperation. I'll be making a few more visits around the estate grounds. Should anything come to mind—anything at all—send word."

And with that, she left the room, her mind calculating, already placing pieces on the board.

Despite the nobility of the Hargrave estate, something didn't sit right with Celeste.

She started with the music teacher—a quiet commoner woman with tired eyes and a stutter in her voice. She said Evelyn had been distracted for weeks.

"She'd play for hours without pause," the teacher recalled. "Sometimes… she'd stop and look outside, like she was hearing something I couldn't. It unnerved me."

Celeste took note.

She moved on to the maids. Most were hesitant, but one younger maid fidgeted too much.

"Miss Evelyn kept receiving sealed letters… strange ones," the girl whispered. "No seal from a noble house. She'd read them alone in the garden, always tearing them up after."

Then came the butler—stoic and reliable, but even his voice faltered.

"She had… arguments with her parents. About marriage, I believe. She didn't want the match they arranged for her."

Finally, the groundskeeper gave the final puzzle piece.

"There was a boy, miss. A stable hand from the neighboring estate. I saw him meet her late one night near the orchard gate. After that, she started sneaking out more often."

Celeste wrote in her notebook, frowning.

Letters with no origin. A forbidden romance. Repeated secret rendezvous.

"So much for a fairy's prank," she muttered under her breath. "Looks like this was planned by human hands."

Celeste kept her notebook tucked in her coat as she approached the old groundskeeper again, catching him while he trimmed the edge of the hedge maze.

Celeste (softly): "One more thing. I'd like to keep this between us for now. It seems Miss Evelyn may have left on her own terms—possibly after a dispute with her family. Can you tell me more about the boy you mentioned?"

The old man wiped his brow and looked around cautiously before leaning in.

Groundskeeper: "Aye… I figured you'd come back. That boy—his name's Elias. Worked the stables for House Merriton, just a bit south of here. He weren't supposed to see her, but love makes fools of the young."

Celeste: "Did you ever see where they went?"

Groundskeeper: "Once. It was late—moon high in the sky. I spotted them heading out the back gate, the one behind the orchid greenhouse. They took the path toward the old hunter's trail. Leads deep into the woods… eventually toward the abandoned watchtower, if they dared go that far."

Celeste narrowed her eyes slightly.

Celeste: "Thank you. You've been helpful—and discreet."

As she turned away, she jotted the new location in her notebook and circled it twice.

"Old hunter's trail. Watchtower. A meeting spot far from noble eyes."

She didn't plan to inform the family just yet. Not until she confirmed Evelyn was safe.

"If she ran willingly, then dragging her back to this place won't solve anything," she thought. "But if someone else got involved—well, I'll find out soon enough."

Celeste sprinted through the thinning woods, her footsteps light but swift against the soft forest ground. The wind tugged at her coat, and branches whipped past her shoulders as she followed the barely-visible path carved into the forest.

"So that's how they survived this cursed place…" she thought, eyes locked on the faint trail ahead. "The hunter's path. Wolves and wild beasts tend to avoid open trails with no trees to ambush from. Smart… That explains how a noble girl and a stablehand managed to slip through the forest alive."

The leaves rustled with each gust, but there were no growls, no glowing eyes hiding behind the brush. The further she ran, the more she realized—this route wasn't wild at all. It was guided. Maintained, even if subtly.

She touched the side of the trail and felt flattened grass—signs someone had passed through not long ago.

"It's a path of logic hidden in the chaos of the forest… and they knew exactly where to go."

Her violet eyes narrowed as she slowed near a fork in the trail. The hunter's path diverged—one side deeper into the forest, the other veering uphill toward a clearing.

She crouched low, brushing away the topsoil. A broken footprint. And beside it, a loose scrap of blue fabric clinging to a thorn.

Celeste stood, her hand tightening on the hilt of her cane-sword.

Celeste (whispering): "Looks like I'm getting closer."

Celeste slowly stepped inside the watchtower, her boots clicking lightly against the polished wooden floor. Her eyes scanned the unexpectedly pristine interior—fresh furniture, a stack of firewood, even embroidered curtains fluttering in the wind.

"So this was never about running blindly into danger…" she thought. "It was all planned down to the last nail."

As she ascended the narrow staircase, soft murmurs could be heard. Then, a creak of the top floor door gave her away.

The boy—slightly younger than Celeste had guessed—jumped up with a wooden bat, standing protectively in front of the girl. The missing lady Evelyn stood behind him, equally tense, holding a fireplace poker like a sword.

Boy: "Don't move! Who are you?!"

Evelyn: "How did you find this place?! Did my parents send you?!"

Celeste raised both hands calmly. "No need to panic. I'm not here to drag anyone back by the collar."

The boy's grip didn't ease. "Answer the question!"

Celeste exhaled softly. "My name is Emma Walker. I'm a detective. Your family hired me to investigate Evelyn's disappearance. That's all."

Evelyn's eyes widened just a little, her poker lowering a fraction. "You're… the one they hired?"

Celeste gave a faint nod. "Yes. And believe me, if I were here with ill intentions, I wouldn't have knocked."

Boy (still tense): "Then what do you want?"

Celeste: "The truth. Why you ran. Why you left nothing but a trail of fear and unanswered questions."

Evelyn looked between the boy and Celeste, then slowly set the poker down. "Because I wasn't free. Because they wanted to marry me off to someone I didn't love. Because I'm tired of being a pawn in noble politics."

Boy: "We built this place ourselves. It took us months. No one was supposed to find it."

Celeste (gently): "And no one would have… if you hadn't underestimated how much your parents wanted to save face. I pieced it together through your music tutor and the estate staff. But I'm not here to ruin your life."

Evelyn stared. "Then… what will you do?"

Celeste gave a half-smile. "That depends. Are you planning to live here in hiding forever?"

They fell into silence.

Celeste (softly): "Then let me help you figure out how to make your freedom official—without turning you into fugitives."

Celeste stepped further into the watchtower's upper room, her voice steady but soft. "Listen carefully, Evelyn. I know your reasons. And they're valid. But there's something you might not fully understand."

Evelyn looked wary, but curious. "What do you mean?"

Celeste folded her arms, her violet eyes calm and clear. "Your debutante ball. It's more than just a ceremony to parade you in front of suitors. It's also the moment you legally become an adult in noble society. Once that happens, you'll be able to make your own choices—whether to marry someone of your choosing, or… to formally remove yourself from your house."

Elias's expression darkened. "You mean she'd be stripped of her status."

Celeste nodded slightly. "Yes. She would lose her noble title, her inheritance, her claim to the Hargrave name. But she would be free. That is one option."

Evelyn glanced at Elias, then back at Celeste. "And the other?"

Celeste's voice softened. "To speak to your parents. Face them. Tell them the truth. That you refuse to marry out of politics. Marriage should be a bond of love, not a business transaction. You have more power than you think—but running away will only make them believe you're being manipulated."

Elias looked conflicted. Evelyn stayed silent.

Celeste stepped back toward the door. "I won't force you. But I do suggest… if you truly want peace, then face this with your head held high. You deserve that much."

Celeste turned to leave the watchtower, her footsteps light on the creaking wooden stairs, Evelyn suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Evelyn: "Wait… I'll go with you."

Celeste paused, slowly turning to face her.

Evelyn (softly, almost pleading): "But please—don't mention Elias. He's only been helping me. If they find out he was involved, they'll fire him… maybe worse. They'll hurt him. Please, promise me."

Elias looked like he wanted to argue, but one look at Evelyn's eyes silenced him.

Celeste studied the two for a moment, then smiled gently, almost playfully.

Celeste: "I told you—I'll let you choose your own path. Don't worry. I promised to bring you home safely, and I promise I won't tell a soul about Elias. Your secret's safe with me."

Relief washed over Evelyn's face. Elias gave a quiet nod of gratitude.

Celeste (light-heartedly): "But next time you run away, at least leave a note. Makes my job easier."

They all shared a quiet chuckle—just enough to ease the tension—as the wind rustled through the old watchtower's windows.

And eventually, the case was closed.

Evelyn returned to the Hargrave estate, her steps hesitant at first—but when her family saw her, everything changed. Her mother burst into tears, rushing to embrace her, while her father—stern and proud—softened in a way no one had seen in years. Her younger brother nearly tackled her in joy, unable to hide his relief.

Lord Hargrave: "You've grown stronger… and wiser. We were wrong to try to control your future. From now on, we'll never force you into anything you don't want."

Evelyn's eyes shimmered with emotion, her voice soft. "Thank you, Father… Mother."

There was no mention of the watchtower. No mention of Elias.

Speaking of whom…

Back at the estate, Elias continued his work as the quiet stable hand. He tended the horses, polished the tack, and swept the stable floors—just as he always had. No one suspected a thing.

No one… except me—and the old groundskeeper who gave me just a small nod the day I left.

He won't say anything. Neither will I.

Some truths are better left tucked away, like letters in a drawer—safe, silent, and untouched by judgment.

Celeste (narrating):

Case closed. Peace restored. A warm bath, a hot cup of tea, and maybe—just maybe—a week without getting shot at.

Or so I thought.

The office door swung open the next morning with its usual drama. I didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The sound of polished boots and that ever-so-confident stride gave it away instantly.

Celeste:

"What the h—what the actual &#%! are you doing here again, Cedric?! I just returned yesterday!"

She nearly knocked over her teacup in shock.

Cedric (grinning like it's a casual morning chat):

"Morning to you too, Miss Walker. Thought I'd drop by with a new case."

Celeste (rubbing her temples):

"You have got to be &#%! kidding me. Do you ever sleep? Or do you just hover near my office like a lost puppy with paperwork?"

Cedric (shrugging):

"Justice doesn't sleep."

Celeste (gritting her teeth):

"Well I do. Or at least I try to. Now spill it—what's this about before I toss you back into the street and feed your badge to the stray cats."

Cedric (placing a sealed envelope on her desk):

"...This one's different. No noise, no ransom. Just a letter and a missing—"

Celeste (reading, frowning):

"'You've stolen from the forgotten. Now she belongs to the silence.' What the—"

She looks up at Cedric.

Celeste (tone suddenly serious):

"Tell me this isn't another noble house—"

Cedric (avoiding her gaze):

"...It's worse. It's from—"

—

To be continued in Case Three.