Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 237

In Calvessa, Vesperia, at Maple Valley Villa.

Outside the south-facing room, sunlight slanted down, casting golden patches that danced across the balcony floor before filtering through the glass windows onto the indoor plants and sofa.

The evergreen plants remained vibrant and full of life despite the weather.

The soft white sofa was dotted with floral embroidery, its plush filling so soft that you'd sink right in the moment you sat down.

Scarlett's favorite was the single armchair from this set.

She'd been sitting in that very chair during her phone call earlier.

Now, her hand dropped to trace the embroidery on the sofa, an uneasy feeling stirring in her chest. The hand holding the receiver hadn't moved, unconsciously tightening its grip as her sense of wrongness grew stronger.

Though Scarlett hadn't seen Michael in ten years, she could tell from their previous meetings that his personality hadn't changed much.

So why had he said those things during today's call?

Scarlett couldn't make sense of it. In a daze, she set down the receiver just as Libbie's voice drifted from outside the door.

"Ms. Seymour, the chestnut soup is ready. Would you like it now?"

The room was spacious but not ridiculously large, furnished with various items yet still offering a clear view of the doorway.

"I'll be right there."

She called out, leaving the receiver on its cradle as she shuffled toward the door in her slippers.

The dining room was sunken.

As Scarlett descended the steps, Libbie was setting the chestnut soup on the table. Seeing her arrive, she called out again, "Ms. Seymour, come quickly, eat it while it's hot."

People occasionally passed by—Marco's men, and some of Finn's people too.

They bustled about, busy moving in the newly purchased necessities.

Scarlett sat at the dining table, cradling a steaming bowl in both hands. The bowl contained chestnut soup with pumpkin. To avoid upsetting her stomach, Libbie had specially slow-cooked it for hours, then used a hand blender to create a smooth, creamy texture almost identical to the Western cream soups served in restaurants.

She lifted a small spoonful to her mouth, still able to feel the fine, grainy texture. Scarlett guessed that Libbie had chosen this soup because she knew about her recent craving for chestnuts.

The soft texture of the chestnuts, combined with the sweet fragrance of pumpkin, with what seemed like a touch of light cream mixed in, filled the soup with a warm, comforting essence. Soon, she had finished every drop of the small bowl.

Lately, Scarlett had been eating mostly liquid or semi-liquid foods, and her appetite had grown smaller. Because of this, Libbie would check on her every little while, asking if her stomach felt uncomfortable or if she was hungry.

She rarely went hungry—even though she couldn't eat much regular food, Scarlett never lacked snacks. Yogurt, applesauce, strawberry jam, or soft cream rolls that melted in your mouth were all her usual go-to treats.

Not long after finishing the chestnut soup, Scarlett settled onto the window seat in the sitting room, quietly reading a hardcover novel.

Reading had become almost a habit for her recently, but perhaps because of Michael's phone call today, she couldn't concentrate.

She hadn't turned a page in ten minutes.

The window seat was quite hard, cushioned with two layers of soft padding, with pillows and stuffed animals thoughtfully placed against the backrest.

After sitting for a while, Scarlett lay down, pulling the throw blanket over herself. She flipped through the book for a bit, yawned, but couldn't focus on reading. Her mind kept dwelling on Michael's unusual behavior.

She rolled over, fumbling for her phone to call Michael back, but after several attempts, his phone kept showing as powered off.

Now her uneasiness intensified even more.

Scarlett gripped her phone, frantically wondering what could have happened back home, then hurriedly called Chris.

This call was also difficult to get through.

It rang for nearly a minute with no answer.

Just one second before it would automatically disconnect, the call finally went through.

The voice on the other end sounded extremely tired and breathless, with noisy background sounds—roaring race cars and coaches cheering.

"What's up?"

Scarlett listened to the sounds on his end, guessing he must still be training, and couldn't help but pause. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Chris answered immediately, then seemed to walk toward a rest area as the noise gradually faded, leaving only his heavy breathing. "You calling me is an honor—how could that be interrupting?"

Already used to Chris's smart mouth, Scarlett quietly rolled her eyes. "Cut it out. Didn't you say you were going to compete? Why are you still training?"

Chris's voice stuttered for a moment, but quickly returned to normal—it sounded like a signal glitch.

Scarlett didn't pay it any mind.

"Couldn't beat Dennis." He chuckled. "That kid's been improving a lot lately."

It had been a while since Scarlett heard news about Dennis from Chris, and she couldn't help but smile, with no time to analyze whether that earlier pause was intentional or due to signal issues.

"Really? Then you better step it up too—you're his senior after all."

"Of course I'm stepping it up." Chris muttered, the sound of opening a locker coming through, then asked, "Out of the hospital? Where'd you move this time?"

Though they rarely met in person, they still exchanged messages daily, chatting about life's little annoyances and joking around.

So Chris was quite familiar with Scarlett's movements.

Scarlett tried to recall, but ultimately gave up. "It's some Vesperian name I can't read, but it should be something like valley? I saw some valley-like spelling in there."

Having expected this kind of answer, Chris laughed.

"I'm telling you, if you're planning to study in Vesperia, shouldn't you learn some Vesperian?"

For Chris, who regularly competed internationally, mastering multiple languages was basic. He found it hard to understand someone like Scarlett, who didn't want to learn more after mastering one foreign language.

Scarlett pressed her lips together, instantly thinking of Michael.

She swayed back and forth, pondering for a moment before asking, "Speaking of which, have you heard any news lately?"

"What news?" Chris frowned, asking instinctively.

Hearing his genuine confusion, Scarlett felt incredulous and pressed further, "You really don't know?"

"What would I know? I just got back yesterday." Chris snorted impatiently. "Didn't I tell you? I've been training with the team in Thalassia recently."

Hearing this, Scarlett suddenly remembered that it was indeed the case.

She made a couple of acknowledging sounds and quickly apologized, "Sorry, I've been sleeping too much these past few days. My brain feels like it's stuck in thick cotton candy—completely foggy."

"It's fine." Chris knew she'd just had surgery and wasn't about to lecture her, but he was still curious. "But why are you asking? Did something happen back home?"

Scarlett wasn't sure either.

She bit her lower lip lightly, answering hesitantly, "I'm not clear on it either. Michael called me earlier."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I felt like he was acting a bit strange..." Scarlett didn't hide anything, directly repeating her conversation with Michael.