“Look.”
He pointed at something that’d fallen on the cobblestones in front of the door with the tip of his boot. At first, Rock thought it was a button, but the light revealed it to be a small bloodstain.
“…Oh no…”
Rock was at a loss for words.
The bloodstains had already dried and become discolored, proving they weren’t from today or the day before.
“Break down the door now,” Ebel requested.
Phoebe nodded and twisted the doorknob as hard as he could. The hovel’s door was no match for a battle-hardened mercenary, and it came off its hinges with a creak that sounded like a death cry. The three of them rushed inside through the gap.
But, contrary to what they were expecting, the inside was clean.
Nothing, not even a drop of blood, littered the floor. It looked like someone had swept up the place.
The room’s furnishings consisted of a simple bed, a workbench with fragments of charcoal on it, a desk, and several cupboards. Despite being locked up for some time, it didn’t smell of dust or mold and even seemed to be filled with a familiar, sweet scent.
“No one’s here.”
Rock gasped after looking around the hovel.
Where did Krister get off to after leaving a trail of blood? Of course, there was no guarantee that was his blood, but still…
“I wonder if he was kidnapped or fled in the night…” Phoebe raised an eyebrow.
“Probably the former.”
“What makes you say that?” Phoebe asked Rock.
Rock slowly walked up to the workbench. “This.”
She picked up a piece of charcoal left there. The tip was cut to make it easier to draw marks like the charcoal pencil Rock had at the shop.
“Is that a charcoal pencil?” Ebel asked, coming over with the lantern.
“Yes, it is. It’s a sewing tool used to mark fabrics,” Rock answered, then continued with confidence, “No tailor would run without their sewing tools.”
She knew as someone of the same trade that tailors couldn’t earn the price of bread without their tools. Krister probably couldn’t do business without the tools he’d grown accustomed to.
“I see…” Phoebe groaned, his expression darkening.
A kidnapping worsened the situation significantly compared to him fleeing on his own. Krister’s life might be in danger as they spoke.
“But I don’t see any other tools.” Ebel grimaced as he closely examined the workbench. “Did he purposely not bring it because you can get charcoal anywhere? Or did someone leave it, not knowing it was a sewing tool…?”
As Ebel said, there weren’t any other sewing tools around aside from the charcoal. Pincushions, measuring tape, scissors, needle threaders, punch needles, and the like were expected at a tailor’s workbench, and Krister also sold fabric and buttons. None of those items could be found anywhere.
“Maybe he put his other tools away. Let’s check,” Rock suggested, prompting everyone to search the house.
The three of them combed the room, relying on the light from their lantern. But they couldn’t find any other tools, scraps of fabric, buttons, or clothes for sale in the market.
All they found was a shriveled apple and moldy old bread in the cupboard and books shoved messily under the desk. Dust had fallen into his water jug, and it was easy to see the stagnant water hadn’t been used for a long time.
“I’m surprised that bastard could read.”
Phoebe crouched and pulled the pile of books out from under the desk. A thin layer of dust had collected on top of them, but Phoebe dusted them off and checked the contents of each volume.
“There are books on Southern history, climate, culture, and even their old lullabies…”
“I wonder if he collected them for Nisha,” Rock said cheerfully.
Phoebe seemed unsure of how to react. He glanced at his daughter’s face and smiled.
“Maybe so.”
Phoebe flipped through a book and frowned at the sentence recorded on the endpaper.
“This is a rental. It’ll cost him a fortune if he doesn’t return it soon.”
Books were valuable in the imperial capital because every volume was written by hand and took time and effort to create. Commoners couldn’t afford them, which was why book rental shops were established around the capital. Rock wasn’t the reading type, but she knew Phoebe often visited those shops.
“I wonder if they’re all rentals. Should we return them for him?” Rock asked.
“Don’t even try. You’ll end up paying for them.”
Rock and Phoebe checked every book, and it turned out most of them were rentals. Then something else slipped out from between one book’s covers onto the ground.
“…What’s this?” Ebel picked it up, raised the lantern, and looked at the cover. “‘Sales Ledger’… It looks like it’s his account book.”
It was a simple notebook with its pages tied together with string—clearly different from a normal book.
“This falls in your wheelhouse, Roxy.”
Rock excitedly opened the ledger Ebel handed her.
Contrary to his work ethic, Krister seemed to be diligent when it came to bookkeeping. He’d recorded his sales and necessary expenses in detail, and from that, Rock could tell he was making a decent profit as a tailor. Judging by customer numbers alone, he had far more traffic than Floria Clothes Shop, making Rock a little jealous.
But that was trivial now.
The big job in question was mentioned about a month ago, just around when Nisha stopped seeing Krister. He’d received an order for thirty blue robes with wool satin faille fabric and a special request for a unique embroidery, but he didn’t detail what kind of embroidery.
And although he didn’t write down the customer’s name, they were definitely a big spender.
“He received full pay the same day he accepted the order.” Rock explained what she’d learned from the ledger to Phoebe and Ebel. “And it was ten times market price. This goes beyond just a generous or lavish spender.”
Krister likely overcharged his customers, so he must’ve been ecstatic they were willing to pay this much.
And if that wasn’t juicy enough, he received the same amount of money once every few days in the name of expenses. Rock had no way of telling if Krister or the customer suggested the extra payments, but either way, it meant his customer was wealthy enough to afford it.
“It’s not your average slightly rich man we’re dealing with here. Must be a wealthy merchant or some nob…” Phoebe paid Ebel a sideways glance.