The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 81

“Should I try asking Mr. Wyson? He’s a veteran in this field, so he might be able to introduce you to someone who can treat you.”

 

“It’ll probably be hard to find anyone.”

 

Though Shailoh had only sensed it, just like the name ‘psychogenic aphasia’ suggested, her symptoms clearly didn’t originate from anything physical but from her mind. If that was the case, there was only one way to fix it. Do what Caleb wanted, then get away from him completely.

 

“To do that…”

 

All at once, the image of the two naked bodies tangled together in that brothel flashed through her mind, and her stomach heaved. Shailoh’s face went white in an instant, and Doris, startled, began rubbing her back as if soothing a baby.

 

“My goodness, are you alright? You didn’t choke or anything, did you?”

 

“…No.”

 

If only it had been something that simple. Shailoh let out a hollow little laugh and covered her face with both hands for a moment, as if she were washing it.

 

“First, I need to see Mr. Wyson. I’ll tell him honestly about my situation and ask him to cancel the performance, or postpone it indefinitely, or else find a new female singer.”

 

“He’ll never agree to that last one.”

 

“You never know.”

 

Wyson’s obsession with her as a playwright stemmed from the tone of her voice, which so closely resembled her mother’s. But would he acknowledge her if she had lost that voice?

 

“Mr. Wyson just like you for being you, Milady. Your voice isn’t everything.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Milady…”

 

Who was she supposed to trust, and who was she supposed to doubt? Even the mast she had trusted most, relied on most, and loved as her only one had used and deceived her.

 

“Have you read the script I was going to perform this time, Doris?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“If you were that woman, Doris, the one who’s used and abandoned by the man she loves, how would you feel?”

 

“You think I’d just let that slide? I’d have to get revenge on that hateful man.”

 

“Revenge, huh.”

 

Shailoh couldn’t even imagine Caleb falling into ruin or being imprisoned.

 

“What if the man were of very high status and extremely wealthy?”

 

Doris gave a bright little laugh and waved it off. “Oh, that wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

 

“So what kind of revenge are you talking about?”

 

“Finding new love right away. And becoming blatantly happy in front of him.”

 

“You might become happy… but would that really be revenge?”

 

“Milady. There’s no such thing as a completely one-sided love in this world. Even if it was all an act at first, there’s got to be at least a shred of genuine feeling in that man, too.”

 

“A shred… of genuine feeling.”

 

“Yes. So if it were me, I’d find new love while that shred of genuine feeling was still there. So that he could never forget me for the rest of his life.”

 

* * *

She went to Wyson’s office without any expectations, but he wasn’t there. The one who greeted Shailoh was his secretary, who worked outside his private office.

 

“Welcome, Miss Griche. Did you have an appointment?”

 

“No. I was just passing by and thought I’d stop in.”

 

“I see. Mr. Wyson said he’d be back a little after five. He’s at the theater checking the stage equipment.”

 

“I see…”

 

While she exchanged a few words with the secretary, Shailoh slowly looked around the office, feeling as if the whole world had turned upside down. It was completely different from before, when he’d tramped around in a single short coat, looking shabby with his former glory far behind him. Thanks to one of his plays becoming a huge hit not long ago, Wyson was now a successful playwright with a proper office and even a secretary.

 

“It’s just a little before five now. If it’s not an inconvenience, may I wait inside?”

 

“Of course. If it’s you, Miss Griche, Mr. Wyson won’t mind at all.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Smiling back at the warm kindness, Shailoh took hold of the door handle to his private office and turned it. Wyson’s office, to put it nicely, looked like a writer’s study. To be honest, it was a mess. Papers and books lay scattered everywhere without rhyme or reason, some even rolling on the floor, and the walls were hung here and there with posters from the theaters whose plays he’d written, displayed like proud medals. As she took them in one by one with genuine pleasure, a poster suddenly caught her eye, startling her.

 

<The Imitating Jay>. It was the script she had turned down some time ago. Back then, Wyson had been struggling for money, so she’d assumed, of course, he would have sold it, but there it was, fully realized in artwork and hanging on the wall.

 

“This is… definitely me.”

 

The scene depicted on the poster showed her dressed as a jay, plucking out all of her own feathers. It was ridiculous, somewhat pitiful, yet at the same time strangely refreshing. Just as she found herself absorbed in the unfamiliar emotion the poster evoked, a voice from somewhere distracted her.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

“…”

 

Startled, Shailoh whipped her head around. On a couch covered haphazardly with a blanket, a man was rubbing his sleepy eyes and pushing himself upright.

 

“That one’s my favorite.”

 

Shailoh froze and edged back, watching him warily. The unexpected intruder was a tall, skinny young man. His severely curly hair resembled a gray rat’s, and he wore a coat that was a little better than rags.

 

Security in this building was strict. There was no way he was a vagrant. Even so, her spine went rigid on its own. Shailoh’s head bumped lightly against the wall as she backed up, and she stammered out. “W-Who are you? Are you acquainted with Mr. Wyson?”

 

“Close and then some. And you are…?”

 

Breaking off mid-sentence, the man let out a long yawn like a well-fed cat, then stood, stretching. Sensing danger, Shailoh braced herself, ready to yank open the door and bolt if it came to that.

 

Still kneading the stiffness from his neck as if he hadn’t fully woken up, the man suddenly seemed to recognize her and parted his lips. “Huh? You are…”

 

“D-Don’t come any closer!”

 

“Miss Griche, I forgot to mention someone to you just now…”

 

Just then, the door flew open, and the secretary she’d met earlier stepped in between them. All three of them froze at once.

 

“So this gentleman is…” Sensing the awkward atmosphere, the secretary forced a smile and belatedly introduced him. “Mr. Nox, Mr. Wyson’s younger cousin. He teaches singers.”

 

“He teaches singers?”

 

Unless he was some kind of crazed scholar, his face didn’t look the part at all. While the astonished Shailoh blinked, the door burst open once more.

 

“What’s this, you two have already met.”

 

It was Wyson.

 

* * *

“I was just about to introduce you, so this works out well. Ron probably already told you, but this is my cousin, Nox. Nox, this is Miss Sasha Griche.” Sitting between Shailoh and Nox as though drawing a boundary, Wyson introduced them in turn.

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

“Ah… yes.”

 

She wanted to say the same, but after how she’d just reacted, she couldn’t bring herself to. Shailoh gave an awkward smile and slowly sipped the fragrant black tea. She hadn’t even finished a single mouthful before it went down the wrong way, and she nearly sprayed it everywhere.

 

“Let me get straight to the point. You’ll be taking lessons from Nox from the time being, Miss Griche.”

 

“Cough… pardon?”

 

“Nox may look like this, but when it comes to singing, he really knows his stuff. He’s got a great ear and a great voice. He’s good at teaching, too.”

 

“That’s not really my—” With the person in question sitting right there, it felt rude to turn him down, so Shailoh cut herself off mid-sentence.

 

Nox watched her in silence with an unreadable look, then abruptly asked, “So your voice suddenly stopped coming out?”

 

“…Yes.”

 

Though it had only been shared among those involved in the performance to prevent rumors, in this circle, the news was already spreading wildly. That Sasha Griche had lost her voice.

 

If it were a slump, she could overcome it. If her skills had declined, she could work herself to the bone until she bled. But not being able to produce a voice at all was a completely different problem.

 

“Even the doctors say it’s just some kind of problem of the mind,” Wyson said heavily, letting out a low sigh.

 

“I actually came to talk to you about that,” Shailoh said. “I think you’ll have to cancel the performance or postpone it indefinitely. Or else… find a new singer.”

 

“I don’t like any of those options. Is there really no way to fix this?”

 

Shailoh had a pretty good idea what the cause might be, but she couldn’t say it out loud. Instead, she hedged. “Well… since it came on all of a sudden, maybe one day it’ll just suddenly come back.”

 

Nox, who had been watching, cut in and poured cold water on the idea. “Just wait around and see? By the time you’re done waiting, it’ll already be too late. Even if you finally manage to sing again, what if you forget how to sing altogether?”

 

“Forget?”

 

“I’m saying it can happen. Like if you don’t play the piano for a long time, your fingers stiffen up.”

 

“…”

 

Her vague unease sharpened into a sense of crisis. That must not happen. Not because of the name, wealth, and honor she had built as a singer. But because of this tone of voice was the only thing her mother had left her. It was with this voice that she met Wyson, and thanks to Wyson, she even found her half-brother. Therefore, Shailoh could never let it go.