The storm at sea had passed, and the sun dried the muddy roads in Southshore that had been soaked for many days. Fishermen were drying their nets and repairing sails. A row of passenger ships were docked on the coast.
Jorgen climbed onto the deck of the largest ship and came to the entrance of the ordinary cabins, where he met Shelley.
"Oh," she said, "you're here."
"I should have come to see you off. Hennessy told me you and David would be leaving on this ship."
"This place is inconvenient. Let's go up to the deck."
When she said "inconvenient", she looked at Jorgen's right leg. The corridors at the entrance to the ordinary cabins were too narrow, and there were many people coming and going. It was indeed inconvenient for Jorgen, who was now walking with a crutch.
Going up the stairs, Shelley reached out to support Jorgen. Jorgen wanted to say "It's okay, I can do it" but did not say it.
They returned to the deck and leaned against the railing, looking at the crowd on the dock.
Shelley spoke first: "Will your leg be okay?"
"It will take some time to recover, but it will be fine. Besides, this crutch is borrowed. I have to return it sooner or later."
"That's good."
"I heard you and David are going to Stormwind City."
"Did Hennessy tell you that too?"
"Yes. So your brother is a man who can handle trouble but also unintentionally causes trouble."
Shelley smiled and exhaled calmly, facing Jorgen. "We plan to open a small tavern there. And get married."
Jorgen nodded.
"Sounds good."
"Jorgen, I..."
"Really good. When will your tavern open? Now I have to stay here to help Hennessy with some things. If I go back to Stormwind City by then, I might be your first customer."
"Don't be like that, you're making me feel embarrassed."
"I'm not complaining or maybe I am, I don't know myself. Okay, I take back what I just said."
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't understand myself."
On the last night of the decisive battle, it was David who cleaned up the mess. Ignoring Hennessy's dissuasion, he said to him, "I don't care what's behind this, I just want to find my future wife," and followed Jorgen and Dean's hoofprints and found them. He was an accidental expert at tracking trails, as a traveling merchant he often had to find potential customers in remote places.
He also found the horses released by Jorgen and Dean. After rescuing Shelley and Dalia, he had them ride back to Southshore to get help. He bandaged the unconscious Jorgen simply, lit a fire to guard against wolves, and waited until the rescuers arrived.
"But I understand one thing," Jorgen said. "This time I can't keep you. Just like four years ago, only the other way around."
"Jorgen, I'm sorry...but you're not the you you used to be. You've been through a lot that I can't imagine. But I'm still an ordinary country girl."
"You mean we're not of the same world anymore."
"No, I just really can't bear those things with you. I just want a peaceful life, something like a home...I can't explain it clearly either."
"I understand," Jorgen said. But you don't have to go through terrible things with me. Don't you understand that I would protect you at all costs?
"I have to go back to my cabin. David will be worried." After a moment of silence, Shelley said.
"Okay. I have to go see someone too."
"Sorry I hit you last time."
Shelley kissed Jorgen on the cheek. Jorgen did not look into her eyes.
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
Shelley turned and left. When she went down the stairs and disappeared into the corridor of the cabins, Jorgen looked at her back. Still that navy blue skirt. The sea breeze blew her long hair to one side, revealing a purplish-red mark on the back of her neck. That was the mark left after being tied to the rack. Seeing this wound made Jorgen's heart tighten.
This was left because of me.
This is not farewell, because Jorgen will soon return to Stormwind City and will see her again. But by then things will be different. She will no longer be the country girl Shelley Mareb, but Mrs. Shelley Langston.
Jorgen took a deep breath. He felt invisible walls closing in on him from all sides, gradually isolating him from this world. He exhaled slowly, imagining that his breath was pushing these walls away to keep him from being cut off from the real world before him.
He had to calm down quickly. Because the ship was about to set sail, but he still had one thing to do.
He went down the stairs on the other side of the deck into the first-class cabins. The corridors here were much more spacious than the ordinary cabins. At the door of one of the cabins, he saw Dalia. Her face was still haggard. Earlier that morning, Jorgen had told her that Dean had left Stormwind City with three babies.
"I know you'd come to see me off."
"Yeah, come see."
Dalia gestured for Jorgen to sit in the cabin, but Jorgen waved his hand and said, "Little Mardias is in there, isn't he? Then I won't disturb you. I'll be leaving soon."
"You and Shelley..."
"I just came from her. We said what needed to be said, don't worry."
"...I understand. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
There was another moment of silence. But Jorgen understood that this silence was completely different from the one with Shelley just now. Dalia raised her right hand and covered her eyes with her palm, suddenly bursting into tears.
"I still can't believe it. I just saw him..."
"Some things are beyond our control."
"I really wish I had just gone with him that day..."
"Don't be silly. We all did our best, Dalia."
"That's not what I meant, Jorgen. You saved my life, avenged him... I really don't know how to thank you."
"I just did what I had to do."
Jorgen looked into Dalia's eyes. Now there is one thing waiting for me to do.
Dalia wiped away her tears. Her silk sleeves had turned from pink to brown from the tears. She said, "Jorgen, there's one question you have to answer me. I tried to ask you before, but you always avoided it...where did you bury him? I just want to be able to see him someday. You couldn't be afraid I'd tell the old man, could you? Impossible. The old man doesn't deserve to know these things."
"I know you won't tell anyone, but before I tell you, I have a question to ask you. Dalia, you must answer me honestly."
"Whatever the question is, heavens, ask away."
Jorgen felt something stuck in his throat, and the wound in his right leg began to ache slightly. It was a simple question, but it took him too long to open his mouth.
"Dalia," he said. "Did you kill Foudaire and Ryan?"
Jorgen could feel Dalia stop breathing for a moment, and she seemed to glance casually at the wall and then back to him.
"What are you talking about?" Dalia said. "I don't understand, you're confusing me..."
Jorgen shook his head, biting the inside of his lip.
"You're lying to me, Dalia. I said you had to answer honestly. But you didn't."
"What...? I'm really confused, Jorgen. What exactly..."
"I nearly died for all this and now I just want the truth. The truth cannot be denied."
"Jalo killed them both, we all know that, I don't know why you're upset..."
"Enough!"
Jorgen suddenly punched the wall. He knew Dalia was really scared, because her body jerked and she burst into tears again. But such tears were now useless to Jorgen.
He said:
"If you don't know, let me tell you. I never got any evidence that Jalo killed Foudaire and Ryan, neither direct nor indirect. I didn't even confirm his motive, but willingly believed that he killed your two followers to lure Dean out. Dalia, I swear I really wish things were just that simple. But all the facts tell me I can't be satisfied with that conclusion.
"Why did Jalo choose to kill Foudaire and Ryan one after the other instead of killing them both overnight? Or why didn't he go after Elin? It wouldn't have been difficult for him anyway. The killer must have chosen the targets for some reason.
"I noticed the letters Foudaire sent to Dean every three months. Even if Foudaire was a cautious man who didn't want the contents of the letters leaked, the wax seals were too thick. And when I opened the envelopes, I found paper scraps embedded in the wax. I began to suspect that these envelopes had been opened before being sent from Stormwind City.
"Foudaire and Ryan's deaths had two consistent places. First, they were both dressed in some formal clothes, indicating that they were not killed in their sleep. From the beginning, I suspected that they were both going to meet someone in the middle of the night before being killed.
"But most critical was the fatal wound. Hennessy's autopsy report showed that two cuts were made in the same place on their necks to kill them, not one, and traces of a paralyzing poison were also found. Hearing this, I became suspicious. After hearing Elin's description of the attack on himself and encountering Jalo, I was finally convinced that it was not Jalo who killed them. He was proud of his one-blow killing technique and would never use poison or make two cuts in a vital area.
"Finally, when Foudaire and Ryan died, we had already arranged guards around the Red Salmon Inn, but in the end found no trace of the intruder. We initially attributed this to Jalo's superior skills, but if his infiltration skills were really that formidable, why did he later need to instigate the wounded to cause chaos and kidnap you? The most direct answer is that the killer was not him, but someone already in the house. Do you want to hear my speculation on the whole thing?"
"Dalia, don't say any more..."
Dalia's voice was very weak, but Jorgen's voice kept rising. He could barely control himself.
"I'll say it anyway, since you refuse to admit it. First, you had already read every letter from Foudaire before it was mailed, knowing that he had been in contact with Dean all along. Since Dean never replied, even Foudaire didn't know Dean's exact whereabouts, and it was useless for you to ask directly. So you waited for a chance to go to Southshore until Ryan appeared.
"Ryan promised you could see Dean, but I have every reason to believe he wanted to gain something from it, such as selling your information to the Syndicate. You knew he was lying to you, but you pretended to believe it and went to Southshore. You immediately thought: to get Dean's attention by killing Foudaire was the best way. After all, the old man would find here sooner or later, and you didn't have unlimited time to wait in Southshore.
"At night, you went to Foudaire's room. He hastily dressed to see the hostess, but you cut his throat. Knowing you were not confident to kill him with one blow, you smeared a paralyzing poison on the knife. You took his life with the second cut.
"Foudaire's death made Ryan nervous. Knowing of his connection with the Syndicate, you killed him in the same way to avoid trouble.
"Most importantly, killing them both had an important meaning for you. Four years ago, your two servants were killed, and then Dean entered your life. You hoped this process would repeat itself - two servants died, you were kidnapped, I met him, we rescued you together - only with a different outcome. This time he left your life forever. If I'm wrong anywhere, please convince me, Dalia. I don't want it this way either, but facts are facts. The only thing I can't figure out is why you would do such a cruel thing. Heavens, what were you thinking? To see Dean you cut two throats of innocent people?"
"...Don't say any more, Jorgen. I shouldn't have done that. Dean, I'm sorry...what have I done?"
Dalia leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down to sit on the ground, burying her face deeply in her arms. Her body shook uncontrollably. Jorgen could clearly see the two tear tracks extending on her arms.
Half a minute later, Dalia stood up. In a trembling voice she said to him, "Jorgen, when did you confirm...?"
"Before Dean and I set out to rescue you. By then I had just received the autopsy report, and everything was clear. Later when I saw Jalo's fighting style with my own eyes, I was once again certain of the conclusion about the killer's method of killing."
"Did you tell him then...?"
"Dean? No, I didn't. After all, the top priority at the time was to rescue you, and I didn't want anything else distracting him. If he had come back alive, I don't know what I would have done...but now, he will never know."
"...So I'm still his 'seashell girl' and not a murderer, am I?"
"You will always be his 'seashell girl', Dalia."
"Thank you, Jorgen, thank you..." Dalia wiped away her tears. "I'll tell you everything... I was the first of them."
"'Them'?"
"Dean must have told you that the old man specially selected young men and women and forced them to have children. I was the first of those women."
Jorgen frowned. He listened to Dalia's account with extremely conflicting feelings.
Dalia's family and the Shawl family were friends for generations. Later, due to wars and divisions, Dalia's family declined, and at this time the old man appeared and offered to support this family on the condition that Dalia be taken in as a foster daughter.
"He taught me many things. How to deceive, how to poison subtly, how to use others to achieve goals...I learned quickly. If I didn't, he would immediately stop supporting our family. Many times I wanted to run away..."
The old man believed Dalia would be Dean's perfect match and could bear him the finest heir. He engineered the kidnapping to allow Dalia and Dean to meet.
"Dean didn't know he was being deceived, and he would do his best to make me, the deceiver, happy. That made me really fall in love with him. I wasn't supposed to, the old man only asked me to seduce Dean and then have a son. But I didn't want that. I wanted to be his wife and be with him forever."
The old man was unhappy with how things turned out but couldn't openly thwart their wedding. With her excellent social skills, Dalia soon established herself in Stormwind City's aristocratic circles and began secretly opposing the old man.
"I had originally decided to confess everything to Dean after the child was born. But then he left. My whole life became a chaotic whirlpool...only little Mardias could calm me. But after finding out that I might see Dean through Foudaire, I found the terrible part of myself beginning to awaken. You were right, everything repeated itself four years ago, and I turned back into the deceitful, poison-skilled me before I truly fell in love with Dean..."
Suddenly Jorgen heard the blind old man's words in his mind. There is a way to free you. Release me, I am part of you, no matter how you hide it. I can bring back the you of the past. We are incurable people.
"Foudaire was not just loyal to me. He was jealous of Dean and didn't want me to see him again, so he kept silent about their correspondence; but also didn't want to provoke Dean into coming to see me directly, so he didn't dare cut off contact. As for Ryan...I once deceived him that if he could help me see Dean, I would do anything. I used similar reasons to deceive them into meeting me at night and then killed them."
Dalia's tear marks had dried. She looked more at ease.
"Jorgen, I feel much better...I don't have to suffer these secrets alone anymore."
"I'm glad you confessed."
"You have always been the best friend to me and Dean. The secrets we would not reveal to each other, we have told you. Why is that, Jorgen? You have the power to make people unknowingly bare their hearts...The ship is about to sail. Before we say goodbye, there is one last thing I want to hear you say."
"Go ahead."
"The night I attacked Foudaire, he saw what I did...I don't know what kind of man he will become. I really regret it. If he becomes like the old man, what should I do?"
"Don't worry, Dalia. He is your and Dean's blood, and he will surely grow up to be a good man, someone far removed from conspiracies and murders, living a peaceful life."
"Really?"
"Of course. I am very confident, and I have evidence. I always love to talk evidence." Jorgen said. "Remember that morning I came to your room to question little Mardias? That kid gave me a very firm refusal. At the time, I did have some bad associations, but later I understood: he just wanted to protect his mother. Who can say he's not a good boy?"
"Thank you..."
"Also, about what I said about Dean earlier..."
Dalia waved her hand.
"No need to tell me, after all, I didn't tell you the truth first. And when I want to see him, I know where to find him."
She rested her right hand over her heart.
Jorgen watched as the ship left the shores of Southshore. At that time it was dusk, and the sunset dyed the calm sea a warm orange. Jorgen just wanted to get back to the inn as soon as possible, eat something and then sleep. He had to sleep a dreamless sleep, so that all the pain and loss could not intrude into his mind with nightmares; otherwise, when the sun rose the next day, he feared he would be too exhausted to go on.