Julian did not speak for a moment after John's question. Instead, he studied him with the quiet patience of a physician examining a patient whose symptoms refused to fit neatly into any known illness.
John felt oddly uncomfortable under that gaze.
Finally, Julian sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair.
"John," he said, "are you absolutely certain you do not remember anything from the last day or two before you collapsed?"
John frowned slightly.
"I have already told you," he replied. "There are fragments… impressions, perhaps. But nothing clear. The voyage back from the coast is largely a blur, and the moments after I returned home are even worse."
He shook his head.
"When I try to recall them, it feels like reaching into fog."
Julian continued watching him carefully.
"Nothing at all?" he pressed. "No conversation? No memory of what you said to me yesterday evening?"
John thought for a moment before shaking his head again.
"No. Nothing."
Julian nodded slowly, as if confirming something to himself.
"In that case," he said quietly, "I suppose I should explain why I asked to speak with you privately."
John leaned slightly against the edge of the desk, folding his arms.
"I assumed you would."
Julian took a breath.
"Yesterday evening, I received an urgent message from Hawkins. He had sent a servant boy running to my residence with instructions that I was to come here immediately."
John nodded slightly.
"That part I understand."
Julian continued.
"Hawkins told me that you had arrived at the house in a terrible state. You were feverish, barely conscious, and bleeding through your bandages."
He paused briefly before adding,
"To be frank, when I first saw you, I did not believe you would survive the night."
John forced a small smile.
"Well, clearly your medical expertise underestimated me."
Julian did not return the humor.
"I am serious."
The doctor stepped closer, his voice lowering slightly.
"You were barely lucid when I arrived. The infection had already begun spreading, and your fever was dangerously high. I was preparing to do everything I could to stabilize you before sending for more assistance."
John listened quietly.
Julian continued.
"While I was examining the wound, you suddenly grabbed my arm."
John's brow furrowed slightly.
"I did?"
"Yes."
Julian nodded slowly.
"You seemed to recognize me. Your eyes opened briefly, and you pulled me closer as if you were trying to say something important."
John searched his mind again but found nothing.
"I cannot recall that."
"I suspected as much."
Julian sighed softly.
"The problem was that you were speaking so weakly that I could barely hear you. Your words were slurred and broken by the fever."
John leaned forward slightly.
"What did I say?"
Julian hesitated for a moment before answering.
"I could not understand most of it."
John's shoulders sagged slightly in disappointment.
"However," Julian added, raising a finger, "there was one word I was able to make out clearly."
John waited.
Julian met his eyes.
"Father."
The room fell quiet.
John felt a faint chill run down his spine.
"Father?" he repeated.
Julian nodded.
"You said the word several times. Each time you tried to speak, it sounded like you were trying to warn me about something."
John's mind began turning rapidly.
That meant the original John had likely been trying to say something before he died.
Something important.
But whatever it was had vanished with him.
"That was when my suspicions began," Julian continued.
John looked at him.
"Suspicions?"
Julian folded his arms.
"Yes. At the time, I assumed you were delirious from the fever. But the more I thought about it afterward, the more it bothered me."
He walked slowly toward the window, glancing out at the quiet garden.
"Later that night, after you had stabilized somewhat, I went to the hospital to speak with the coroner."
John straightened slightly.
"You went to investigate my father's death?"
Julian nodded.
"I wanted to confirm the details myself."
"And?"
Julian's expression darkened slightly.
"My inquiries were… strangely unproductive."
John raised an eyebrow.
"In what way?"
Julian turned back toward him.
"Every official record concerning your father's death appears to be restricted."
John blinked.
"Restricted?"
"Yes."
Julian nodded.
"The coroner's office was unwilling to release any documentation. When I attempted to speak with the attending physician, I was told that the matter had already been closed and that no further details could be provided."
"That sounds unusual."
"It is."
Julian's voice became firmer.
"In cases of sudden cardiac death, records are normally accessible—especially to someone like myself. Yet in this case, every avenue I attempted to pursue was quietly shut down."
John's expression grew thoughtful.
"Someone is blocking access to the information."
"That is my conclusion."
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
John rubbed his chin slowly.
"I must admit," he said, "that does not sound encouraging."
Julian gave him a serious look.
"You also mentioned earlier that your father was in good health."
John nodded.
"From what I know of him, yes. The memories I possess show no indication that he suffered from any heart condition."
He paused before adding,
"And even if he had… the timing is suspicious."
Julian tilted his head slightly.
"You think so as well?"
"Yes."
John walked slowly around the desk, glancing at the ledgers scattered across its surface.
"My father dies suddenly while working late at the headquarters of the British Equatorial Trading Company. Within days, access to the official records surrounding his death becomes restricted."
He stopped beside the chair.
"That is not the sort of coincidence I enjoy trusting."
Julian gave a quiet nod.
"My thoughts exactly."
For a moment neither of them spoke.
John felt a strange mixture of excitement and irritation stirring within him.
When he had first awakened in this body, he had assumed that fate had finally decided to give him a reward.
A second life.
A comfortable one at that.
A respectable family, a fine house in Kensington, and the wealth of a successful trading household.
He had imagined spending his new life enjoying the luxuries that had been denied to him before, maybe go dig up a pot of gold or two.
But now it seemed that the universe had other plans.
Instead of a peaceful life, he had been dropped directly into the middle of a mystery.
And to make matters worse, the key witness—the original John Halsworth—had conveniently taken several crucial memories with him to the grave.
John sighed quietly.
"So much for a peaceful retirement."
Julian blinked.
"Retirement?"
John waved the comment away.
"Never mind."
He leaned back against the desk again.
"Well, regardless of how inconvenient it may be, we cannot simply ignore this."
Julian nodded.
"I agree."
John looked at him seriously.
"Continue investigating. Speak with whoever you can, but do so carefully."
Julian frowned slightly.
"You believe someone may have deliberately caused your father's death?"
"I believe," John said slowly, "that if someone went to the trouble of hiding the records, then they likely have a reason for doing so."
He folded his arms.
"And if that is the case, then whoever is responsible may not appreciate us digging into the matter."
Julian nodded grimly.
"That thought had occurred to me."
"Then be cautious," John said.
Julian gave a small, reassuring smile.
"I will."
He picked up his doctor's bag.
"In the meantime, what do you intend to do?"
John glanced around the office.
Bookshelves filled with financial records surrounded him, and the large desk still held several open ledgers that his father had apparently been working on shortly before his death.
"If my father was dealing with something unusual before he died," John said thoughtfully, "there is a good chance the answer lies somewhere in his work."
He placed a hand on one of the ledgers.
"I will begin by examining his records."
Julian nodded approvingly.
"That seems reasonable."
He walked toward the door before pausing.
"And John?"
"Yes?"
Julian gave him a serious look.
"If your father's death truly was not natural… then we must prepare ourselves for what that might mean."
John smiled faintly.
"I am already preparing."
Julian gave him a short nod before opening the door and leaving the room.
The quiet click of the door closing echoed softly behind him.
John stood alone in the office.
For a few moments he remained still, listening to the distant sounds of the household beyond the walls.
Then he turned his attention to the desk.
The ledgers lay open before him, their pages filled with neat columns of numbers, shipping schedules, and trade entries.
He pulled the chair out slowly and sat down.
"If there is something strange going on," he murmured quietly, "then it must have left a trail somewhere."
He opened the nearest ledger and began turning the pages.
The investigation had begun.