CHAPTER 10
The moon had risen much higher in the heavens than when we had originally set foot on this estate.
I saw it now in the middle of a square window; it shone brightly into the room. Still condemned to immobility, I hazily imagined a Japanese flag with the aid of my useless brain.
An old, iron door creaked. I saw the toes of a woman approaching me. She was barefoot; that's why I hadn't noticed her at first.
"Captain Crusoe?"
Her voice was sweetly flirtatious. Her toenails, meticulously cared for, shone with the color of cherry blossoms. Flynn's beauty was utterly flawless.
"I want to apologize," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed I was laid out on.
Her hip length platinum blond hair only curled at the tips. It mixed with the shine of the moonlight and glistened like a silver stream bed.
"Forgive me that I must keep you locked up here. But you yourself are at fault in this situation. It's very impolite not to drink with the host at a meal. Your lips did not even touch the rim of your glass. And then that insolent man came!"
When Flynn spoke of Maxine, a curious hatred lay in her voice.
"I could get really angry over that guy! If he wasn't the henchman of the king, I would never have let him through the gates of my estate. He actually dared to assault my beloved servants -- with those dirty hands, stained with so much blood!"
She wasted no words on the fact that she herself hadn't made any attempt to rescue the maid. Had she perhaps already forgotten that?
"Don't misunderstand me, I've got nothing against you. It was just necessary to bring you under my power. I absolutely need a person in whose veins the blood of the Wincotts flows. I want you to do something for me. You are going to manipulate the stubborn and extremely tenacious 'key' to the box."
Manipulate a key? Me? And why the hell was I still supposed to be a member of the Wincott family? Flynn would surely not have believed this nonsense if I'd been introduced to her without sunglasses.
I imagined her face when she realized her mistake. Her pretty face would be contorted with blackest anger. This thought brightened my gloomy mood a little.
"Here, drink this," she said.
In my dreams, Gunter and Conrad were doing well. Only I stood alone in a faraway place. A song was coming from the box in my hand. But when I held my breath and pricked my ears, it was only the cry of the wind.
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