Chapter 59 : Better than standing still
The interview with Natalia was to be conducted by Rembrandt.
Guillaume reported the conversation between Alejandro and Natalia at the hideout.
Guillaume himself judged it to be nonsense, but still he reported all the contents of their conversation there to Rembrandt.
Natalia’s murder of Beatrice before the so-called “rebirth” and what happened then, as well as the reasons that led to the regression.
Guillaume and Rembrandt decided to have Leopold present to record the statements made during the interview.
However, he is present through a special glass that has been crafted.
Natalia cannot see Leopold.
Until now, he had not told him about the regression or the actions Leopold took at that time.
However, Rembrandt thought that Leopold would be okay with telling him about the regression.
He also decided that it would probably be necessary for him and Natalia, who had also learned about the regression, to talk about it in the future.
As for the Reyes Chamber of Commerce, everything was taken over by his father, Noyce.
Rembrandt’s action against McKay, who had been receiving a substantial monthly stipend from Alejandro, was deemed reasonable by Noyce.
And McKay was again notified that he would be given the position of acting president in name only and a salary equal to that of a regular employee, plus an additional allowance based on his workload.
Even if he had tried to pretend that he had no knowledge of Alejandro’s activities, McKay was siphoning off half of his profits.
It was too much to pass off as irrelevant.
It was a very typical idea of Strydom that this father and son would think that it would be more useful for the Marquise to have him work for them than to put him in jail.
Rembrandt was thus relieved of some of his chores, and while working at the royal palace, he monitored Alejandro, who had not yet regained consciousness, and interviewed Natalia.
“…Alejandro turned back time?”
Rembrandt, unusually forgetting to hide his emotions, uttered a startled and obvious statement.
In the silence that followed, only the sound of a pen’s nib scratching the paper echoed faintly in the room.
Guillaume, who had been faithful to his duties, concentrated only on his writing and never expressed any doubts or objections.
Leopold, on the other hand, stood silently behind the special glass, overwhelmed by what he had heard for the first time since his arrival.
After a moment of silence, Natalia finally spoke up.
“…Alejandro said that he needed a medium to do so.
The magician dug up Beatrice’s grave…”
A moment later, the air in the room became even more tense.
Natalia kept her mouth shut in mid-sentence.
Guillaume’s writing hand stopped.
Leopold, still unable to wrap his head around it, just stared petrified at those exchanges through the glass.
Rembrandt rubbed his temples, then he exhaled slowly, and muttered in a flat voice, “I see.”
“Hence the regression.”
“What…what was that all about, Rembrandt?”
“What was what?”
“I was thinking about what Natalia said earlier about Alejandro turning back the time or something like that.
Why were you listening to that nonsense?”
I mean, I took Beatrice to be my wife, I promised to take Natalia as my second wife when she died, and then Natalia stabbed Beatrice to death.
And what’s more, what’s with the turning back time? Why did you take that story seriously all the way through? It’s very unlike you, especially with that smart brain of yours.”
After the first interrogation, on the way to the carriage, Leopold chewed Rembrandt, as if he didn’t understand.
Leopold stood there with his mouth hanging open throughout the entire interrogation, forgetting to sit in his chair, even though he was in such high spirits at that moment.
He was that upset.
Rembrandt pretended to be thinking, putting his hand on his chin with a blank expression.
“No wonder you say it’s ridiculous.
It’s hard to believe under normal circumstances, isn’t it?”
“Right? Knowing that, why?”
But I already knew about it from another person who told me about the same ridiculous story.
Well, the only thing I couldn’t figure out was why the regression happened, but the rest of it was a new story to me.”
Rembrandt, who had also stopped, turned to Leopold, who was walking a little behind him.
“Who do you think it was?”
“From who? From what?”
“I mean, that stupid story.
Who do you think I knew about the regression?”
He tilted his head as if to say, “Think about it,” and waited for an answer.
“I don’t…I don’t understand.”
“You don’t? Have you forgotten why I decided to help you?”
Leopold was puzzled and thought silently for a while, then looked up with a start.
“I told you before.
I told you before that there is a man named Alejandro who wants to destroy your house.
I have decided to help you even though the Marquise of Strydom has nothing to do with it.”
Cutting off his words, Rembrandt shrugs.
“It’s because Trice asked me to.”
Leopold’s body trembled.
It was a ridiculous story, a mere nonsense, a rambling tale of delusion, those words that he had thought to be nothing more than that.
That story that could have been taken as a slander that seriously defamed him.
“You don’t really think…I’m going to have a white marriage, that kind of thing, to Beatrice…?”
“If you had been the same person you were then, instead of the person you are now…if you had taken everything that was said to you and everything that was done to you at face value…”
When Beatrice first told me the story, I wanted to knock Leopoldo over the side of his head.
But that was you then, not you now. That’s what Rembrandt muttered in his mind.
If you are capable of changing little by little, this can be another stepping stone for you to climb up.
No, I want you to go up.
Move forward instead of standing still.
“…that’s what you did then, Leopold.”
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