The first night with Jonathan Goldsmith's presence in the mansion passed in a suffocating silence. Clara lay on the large bed, the silver moonlight streaming through the window like an indifferent river. She couldn't sleep. Jonathan Goldsmith's image lingered in her mind, from the faint polite smile to the deep, inscrutable eyes. He wasn't the monster she had imagined, but that very politeness was more terrifying than open brutality.
She sifted through the scattered bits of information about Jonathan Goldsmiths she had read or overheard in the real world: a notorious magnate, a cold-blooded financier, a man behind shadowy deals... All of it painted a dark picture. But the man who sat opposite her tonight was completely different. He was like a painting drawn in two sharply contrasting colors. This contradiction left Clara feeling lost and confused.
The mission to kill him was still there. The system hadn't given a deadline, but it was the only path leading her back home. Now, this objective has become more complicated. Killing an enemy is not as difficult as killing someone who... treats you with strange politeness. Was this a trap? A psychological tactic by Jonathan Goldsmith? Did he know why she was here?
The next morning, the atmosphere in the Goldsmiths' mansion seemed to have returned to normal, but Clara still sensed a subtle difference. Some servants appeared more cautious, their steps softer when passing near Jonathan Goldsmith's private areas. His presence, though unseen, still enveloped the place.
Clara continued her familiar routine, but her observation was now sharper. She tried to learn about Jonathan Goldsmith's habits through the staff's actions. What time was his breakfast served? Where did he work? Did he frequently go out?
Butler Reid maintained absolute professionalism and discretion. When Clara coincidentally (or intentionally) walked near the area presumed to be Jonathan Goldsmith's study, Butler Reid would appear gently, reminding her in a calm tone: "Madam, this area... Mr. Jonathan Goldsmith prefers not to be disturbed." No further explanation, no overt displeasure, just a firm block.
Clara realized that getting information about Jonathan Goldsmith directly was impossible. She had to learn about him through what he revealed, through how those around him reacted to him, and through his interactions with her.
A few days later, Jonathan Goldsmith appeared again for dinner. This time, he didn't talk about the weather or architecture. He asked Clara about... books.
"The library here has all sorts of books," Jonathan Goldsmith said, his voice deep and pleasant to listen to. "What kind of books do you enjoy reading?"
Clara was slightly taken aback by the question. After a moment's hesitation, she answered cautiously, "I... like to read many types. History books, literature... and also books on economics." She deliberately added "economics," wanting to see his reaction.
Jonathan Goldsmith raised an eyebrow slightly, the corner of his lip curving into a mysterious smile. "Economics? That's interesting. Do you want to learn about business?"
"Just... reading to learn more," Clara replied, maintaining a humble demeanor. She didn't want him to know she was trying to understand his world, the way the Goldsmiths family operated.
He didn't ask more questions, but his gaze on her deepened slightly, as if evaluating, probing. He began talking about a few famous economics books in the library, analyzing them with sharp words, displaying a deep understanding and astonishing logic. He spoke about the market, business strategies, large corporations... Things that Anna in the real world could only read vaguely about in newspapers, now being analyzed in detail, vividly, right before her.
Clara listened intently, trying to remember his every word. Not because she was genuinely interested in economics, but because through the way he spoke, she sensed his superior intelligence, his sharpness, and also... the cold, calculating nature of a top businessman. Behind that polite exterior was a mind working constantly, focused only on profit and power.
"Those things... they seem complicated," Clara remarked after he paused, trying to appear slightly overwhelmed.
Jonathan Goldsmith smiled lightly. "Complicated to outsiders. Simple to insiders. This world is just a big chessboard, Clara. What matters is whether you choose to be a pawn or the player."
His words made Clara stop short. A big chessboard. Pawns. Players. What did he mean by this? Was he hinting at something? Did he sense that she wasn't simply a pawn in this marriage? His gaze remained calm, but Clara felt a jolt run down her spine. She couldn't read him. He was too unpredictable. On one hand, he was polite, intelligent, and spoke gently. On the other hand, in those words and eyes was the sharpness, the coldness of a manipulator, a seasoned player.
Dinner ended. Jonathan Goldsmith again politely said goodbye and withdrew. Clara remained seated, her confusion and tension growing. She had come to kill him, but was increasingly facing the complex layers of this man's facade.
Killing an obvious enemy is hard enough; killing an unclear enemy, who treats you with a politeness that makes you question everything... that is exponentially harder. The system's mission seemed not to have accounted for Jonathan Goldsmith's complexity.
Clara returned to her room, her steps heavy. She knew that to complete the mission, she didn't just need to find an opportunity to strike; she needed to decode Jonathan Goldsmith's. He was the key. The key to the truth about the Goldsmiths family, about the secrets he hid, and perhaps, about her path back home.
Time would not wait. She had to learn faster, be more cautious. She had to find a way to lift that veil of politeness, see through to Jonathan Goldsmith's true self. Before he could see through hers.
The silent war was growing increasingly tense.