Chapter 9: The Chase

Simon stared at Lizzie in shock. She explained with a slightly troubled expression. Apparently, Dalton and his circle of close friends had a particularly nasty history with Clint. One of those friends had even reported Clint to the police once, leading to a full-blown investigation.

“Why did they do that?”

“I don’t know the specifics. It’s just something I overheard. Anyway, that’s why Lord Dalton absolutely loathes the man.”

“I knew he disliked him… but I didn’t realize it was that intense.”

Simon had always heard Dalton badmouthing Clint, but Dalton insulted everyone, so Simon hadn’t given it much thought.

So that’s what he meant by ‘annoying complications’!

It made sense. If Clint’s relationship with Uncle Dalton was that toxic, being seen with Dalton’s nephew would be a headache. Simon knew Clint wasn’t popular among the local elite, but hearing the gritty details made it feel far more real.

“Why is Clint hated so much in the first place?”

“Don’t ask me…” Lizzie replied, clearly reaching the limit of her gossip stores.

“Then it’s hopeless…”

As Simon spoke dejectedly, Lizzie slapped the mattress. “No! You can’t give up just because you got rejected once! Go back tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow too?”

“Yes! And this time, show him clearly that you are different from Lord Dalton.” She was as fired up as if it were her own romance.

“Will it work? He seemed really angry today.”

“Have courage! They say fortune favors the bold—or in this case, the bold obtains the handsome man!”

“No, I just want to be friends with Mr. Clint…”

“Repeat after me! Obtain the handsome man!”

She balled her fists and stared intensely at Simon.

“Obtain… the handsome man…!”

Caught up in her momentum, Simon balled his fists and repeated the mantra. Her sheer force of will had won him over. Only then did she nod in satisfaction. Strangely enough, saying it out loud actually made him feel a spark of renewed courage.

The next day, Simon returned to the agency. A single note hung on the door.

Closed today~

There wasn’t a sound coming from inside. Just in case, he turned the knob, but the door was locked tight.

The next day, and the day after that, the office remained closed. On the third day of facing a locked door, Simon rattled the handle and pressed the bell repeatedly. Still, no sign of life.

“He’s avoiding me, isn’t he?”

Closing shop the very day after his visit was too coincidental to be anything else. Simon glared at the note that seemed to be mocking him.

Closed today~

It hasn’t just been ‘today’!

After three consecutive days of wasted trips, Simon began to feel a slow simmer of irritation. So that’s how it’s going to be? Do you think I’ll just give up? I am meeting him today, one way or another!

Simon headed downstairs. To get to Clint’s office, one had to pass through the first-floor cafe. Surely the owner would know Clint’s whereabouts. He approached her. The owner looked surprised; she had seen Simon coming and going for days but this was the first time he had approached her directly.

“Can I help you?”

“Excuse me, ma’am. I was wondering if you might know where Mr. Clint went?”

“Well, um, I’m not sure if I should be giving out that kind of information.” The owner looked conflicted.

So she does know where he is.

If she didn’t know, she would have simply said so. Simon pondered how to loosen her tongue. He looked around the cafe and noticed it was completely empty—even though the cafe two doors down had been packed when his carriage passed by. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen a single customer here for the last few days.

“There aren’t many customers here,” Simon murmured absently.

“And your point is?” the owner snapped. It was rude to comment on someone’s lack of business.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it rudely!” Simon hurried to explain. “I just thought it was a shame. I smell such a wonderful aroma every time I pass by, so I figured you must use excellent tea leaves. I was wondering why there weren’t more people.”

As Simon explained himself earnestly, the owner’s expression softened. “You noticed? We really do use the finest tea leaves.”

“I thought so. And your pies look delicious, too.”

“They are. I make them with great care. But business is slow because… well, we’re the newcomers. Everyone just goes to the old cafe next door out of habit. If they just tried us once, they’d realize we’re much better.”

The owner sighed. It was clearly a sore spot. A sudden idea struck Simon. According to the books he’d read, to get something from someone, you have to find out what they need most. And what this owner needed was business.

“I agree. If only they would try it once… actually, I have an idea.”

“What kind of idea?” the owner asked, not expecting much but willing to grab at any straw.

“Give the pies away for free for just one day. The ones you have made here should be enough. Use them as ‘bait’ to draw people in.”

He had read that this was an effective tactic. The owner’s eyes sparkled. “Free pies for a day? That is a good idea!” But she quickly slumped. “But… the cost would be too high. Business is already bad; I can’t afford to lose a single cent.”

This was his moment. Simon played his trump card. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll buy every single pie you have right now.”

The owner’s eyes wavered. It was a tempting offer. Though neither said it aloud, it was obvious the condition for this favor was Clint’s location. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Even knowing that, she was swayed.

“Why… why go to such lengths?”

“I don’t have much time.”

Simon didn’t want any more wasted trips. Today, he would meet Clint and settle things once and for all. Paying for a few pies was a small price for that. To Simon, time was far more precious than money. Without another word, he pulled out his checkbook, wrote in the amount for the pies, and paused his pen before the signature line. He looked at her, his eyes asking: What’s it going to be?

The owner struggled. Was it right to sell out a neighbor’s information for money? But the opportunity was too good to pass up. Besides, Clint hadn’t technically told her to keep it a secret, and it was information anyone could find out if they looked hard enough. Fine. I’ll say it!

“Mr. Clint mentioned he was heading to the Polion family’s charity party.”

“The Polion charity party. I see. Thank you for telling me.”

Simon signed the check with a flourish. The crisp sound of the pen was followed by the sharp rip of the paper. The owner took the check with trembling hands. Despite the significant amount, Simon turned away without a second thought. To the owner, he looked quite dashing in that moment. Thanks to him, she had a chance to promote her shop properly. She watched him leave, determined to make the most of this opportunity.

The Polion Charity Party was held at the Polion estate. While the official goal was to raise funds by selling artwork, like most such parties, the primary objective for the guests was socializing.

Simon’s carriage arrived at the gates. Since the party was already in full swing, his was the only carriage at the entrance.

“Your business here?” a guard asked.

“Simon Grayan. I’m here for the charity party.”

I think.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure. His former butler had handled all the invitations. He only guessed that as a member of the social circle, he must have received one.

What if I get blocked at the entrance?

He had considered going home to find the invite, but he doubted his old butler had kept it organized, and he didn’t want to lose Clint in the meantime. He waited anxiously until the guard checked the list and stepped aside.

“Thank you for coming. You may enter.”

His name was on the list. Luck was on his side. The carriage rolled slowly to the entrance of the mansion. Simon disembarked and waited in the lobby. When a servant announced his arrival, Mr. Polion came running out, his face clearly saying, ‘Why on earth is he here?’

“Mr. Grayan! I never dreamed you would attend! It’s a pleasure.”

“I heard you were doing good work and wanted to stop by. My apologies for the lateness,” Simon replied, masking his awkwardness. He was worried it would show, but after what Lizzie said about his poker face, he felt a bit more confident.

“Your presence is more than enough! Um… does Lord Dalton know you’re here?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Ah, I thought as much. He probably wouldn’t have let you come if he knew.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, nothing! Haha. I’ve kept you standing too long. Let me lead you to the party.”

Polion hurriedly ushered Simon inside. The question lingered in Simon’s mind, but he brushed it aside; Clint was the priority. Polion led him to a vast, beautifully landscaped garden behind the mansion. The lush greenery hummed with the vitality of early summer. Tents were set up around the perimeter—one side displayed art for sale, while the other offered light refreshments.

And there, standing amidst the crowd, was a young girl.

Beneath the ornate decorations of the tents, she looked somewhat overwhelmed. Simon found his gaze drawn to her for some reason.

“She’s from the orphanage,” Polion noted. “We invited her because she’s looking for a sponsor. You should talk to her if you’re interested; she’s quite a bright girl.”

Orphanages only provided mandatory support through primary education. Children who wished to continue their studies often attended these charity events to find sponsors. This girl seemed to be in that exact position.

“I see.”

“Well, please enjoy yourself. Let me know if you need anything.”

Polion bowed and left to greet other guests. Simon browsed the artwork and wrote a check for a reasonable amount, dropping it into the donation box. Even if he wasn’t particularly interested in the art, it felt wrong to attend a charity event and do nothing.

Now, where is Clint?

As he scanned the garden for Clint, his eyes kept drifting back to the girl. She was talking to a gentleman, but she looked so nervous and subdued that her true personality didn’t seem to be coming through. It was a bad strategy for a situation where she needed to pitch her potential. Predictably, the gentleman didn’t stay long. Seeing the girl’s visible disappointment tugged at Simon’s heart—an unusual reaction for someone as typically indifferent as him.

Something feels familiar about this…