Beside Horn, who was lying prone, there was a red velvet pouch, and what Jeanne saw was a piece of stiff cardboard about the size of a book.
The cardboard itself was nothing, what really made Jeanne's expression grow serious was the drawing on it.
On the cardboard, there was an engraved line illustration.
It looked like a feather‑pen sketch made only of lines, not yet colored.
Although the drawing looked rather abstract, Jeanne could still tell at a glance that it was a portrait.
Jeanne's knuckles whitened slightly as she pinched the card, and her back teeth started grinding together.
If she wasn't seeing things, this should be a portrait of Catherine.
So this good brother she'd been missing and fretting over all this time had actually been carrying Catherine's portrait around with him.
Jeanne's hair began to rise without any wind, and faint little currents of electricity flickered through the air.
