My Husband Never Dies - Chapter 79

“If he’s that important, I’d better be damn careful. Tell me everything you can about the man I’m supposed to meet.”

— Understood. We’ve spent the last six months gathering information on the Duke of Brumfield’s routines, movements, and how often he leaves the estate. Nothing particularly unusual has turned up, but I’ll cross-check everything one more time before sending it over. Contact me once you arrive in Brumfield.

That was the end of the call. As she set the receiver back in its cradle, Evelia found herself thinking of the name once more.

Brumfield.

It caught strangely in her throat. She had never heard it before. And yet, it somehow felt familiar.

Evelia frowned for a brief moment before forcing herself to dismiss the strange sense of déjà vu. When exhaustion and boredom piled up long enough, the mind had a habit of playing tricks like that.

She was already planning her next steps as she climbed the stairs. Verify the forged identity. Map out the travel route. Acquire the necessary equipment. After six months of idleness, she’d have to sharpen the skills that had begun to rust.

Evelia Lockwood was going back to work. For now, that alone was enough.

* * *

Grayhaven, the northern port city of Lakeland, lay two steamship transfers and two full days away from Pallici.

The moment Evelia stepped onto the deck, her nose wrinkled on instinct. Coal smoke.

Black plumes billowed endlessly from the steel mills and textile factories surrounding the harbor, weighing down the air beneath a perpetual haze.

She’d never imagined she’d miss the salty sea breeze of Pallici Island.

‘Miss it, my *ss. You’ve gone soft.’

Silently berating herself, Evelia stepped onto Lakeland soil.

At the immigration checkpoint, she presented her forged identification.

“Miss Belle Lock? Purpose of your visit?”

“Tourism.”

The inspector scanned through the documents. Evelia kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, her expression perfectly composed. Despite the calm exterior, her heart beat just a little faster. An almost irrational worry crept into her mind — that a Union Police officer might suddenly appear from nowhere and tackle her to the ground.

Then again, for a mercenary, this level of tension was perfectly normal. The real problem would have been feeling none at all.

“If you remain in the country for more than two days, you are required to report to the local administrative office.”

“Yes, I understand.”

The inspector studied both the identification and Evelia herself with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze before lifting his stamp.

Thunk!

The entry stamp landed with a heavy thud. Accepting her documents, Evelia tucked a lock of her dark brown, fully dyed hair behind her ear and walked calmly past the checkpoint.

The journey from Grayhaven to Brumfield took five hours by steam railway.

Evelia took a seat in third class. There was no reason to ride first class. Keeping a low profile was always her top priority.

The third-class carriage was cramped and noisy. The factory worker seated across from her coughed without pause.

Either the dust had only just begun to ruin his lungs or the disease was already well advanced.

Evelia had never been interested in other people’s business. She turned her attention to the window instead.

The scenery changed the moment the train left Grayhaven behind. Factory smokestacks gradually disappeared into the distance, giving way to rolling hills and stretches of evergreen forest. The farther north they traveled, the lower the sky seemed to sink, the heavier the clouds became.

The world outside had turned gray, as though rain were on its way. Mist filled the valleys between the distant mountains. Northern Lakeland felt like an entirely different country from Grayhaven.

Without factories, the air should have been clean, free of coal smoke. Instead, it was somehow hazier. Heavier. She could tell with a single breath. The air was damp and the sunlight thin. It seemed as though rainy weather was the norm in this region.

‘Don’t tell me I’ll have to stake someone out in the rain?’

Having grown up in the warm, sun-soaked south after being abandoned on Evelia Island, this was hardly an environment she welcomed. Before becoming a wandering mercenary, she’d spent sixteen years beneath clear skies and sweltering heat. She’d always hated gloomy places.

Delayed by the train, Evelia finally stepped off at Brumfield Station six hours later. She picked up her luggage and walked outside.

The station square was quiet. None of the restless bustle of a busy port city could be found here. A couple of horse-drawn carriages waited by the curb. Across the square, only a scattering of inn signs hung from old buildings. The place had the unsettling feel of a ghost town.

“…It feels colder here, too.”

Perhaps because there was hardly another soul in sight, Evelia found herself muttering aloud — a habit she normally never indulged.

From what she’d learned before boarding the train, the ducal estate where her target resided lay even farther north than Brumfield.