When the sound of Hesion leaving faded, Verit lay back down on the bed.

Unlike during the day, her motivation had hit rock bottom, and her face wore an eerily blank expression.

Like a stone statue.

‘Why is she reacting like that?’

For a daughter who’d witnessed her mother nearly die, the reaction was remarkably dry.

Except for when the Marchioness coughed up blood and collapsed—when Verit urgently called for the butler and servants—she’d just stayed holed up in her room.

At first, Haina thought she was shocked and consumed by grief.

But Verit, who’d locked her door, acted like she was simply spending a boring day.

She lay blankly on the bed, read books when bored, and sat by the window watching the sunset.

It was impossible to believe she was in shock.

“…Miss, please eat something.”

“I’m fine. I’ll eat with Mother when she wakes up.”

Unable to watch any longer, Haina offered food to test her, but Verit refused the meal.

As a maid, Haina couldn’t force her to eat, so she eventually pretended to give up and withdrew the food.

‘Who attempted the poisoning?’

Watching Verit lie on the bed again, letting time pass, Haina fell into thought.

Since she—the Empress’s eyes—had entered, if another spy was hiding, they’d likely notice.

But the target was too ambiguous for a simple warning or message.

‘It makes no sense to touch the Marchioness to check the Empress.’

The Empress viewed the Marchioness as a chess piece from the start.

Whether she lived or died, if she had no use, the Empress would discard her without mercy.

Then who attempted the poisoning?

Haina’s gaze naturally turned to the bed.

Verit was blinking slowly, looking tired.

Like she’d fall asleep any moment.

Haina began calculating rapidly.

Verit, spending an excessively ordinary day after her mother passed a life-threatening crisis.

Hesion, who’d entered the palace early in the morning but rushed back after receiving word.

Moreover, Hesion had contacted nearly every temple he knew, tried to bring every famous physician, and didn’t leave the door until the Marchioness’s treatment ended.

The two contrasted too sharply.

‘Did Verit do it?’

Then why?

Wasn’t she the one who’d been so excited just this afternoon about meeting the Marchioness?

Or was that behavior a smokescreen?

Following one thought after another, Haina finally reached a conclusion, and her lips curved up.

Either way, the truth of this incident didn’t matter to her.

Her mission was to monitor the Marchioness, not protect her.

But the harvest was good.

Crucially, this incident had revealed new facts about Verit La Voletta.

Not wavering even when danger befell her family meant she wouldn’t easily fall to external factors.

Once made an ally, she wouldn’t betray easily.

“Miss, shall I draw the curtains?”

“Yes, please.”

Haina approached the window and grasped the curtains.

The bed reflected behind the clean window.

Verit had her eyes closed. With a very peaceful face.

“Good night, Haina.”

Her voice had no inflection. No sign of trembling.

“Sweet dreams, Miss.”

Swoosh—

As the curtains covered the window, darkness filled the room.

If Hesion was like light, this child was like darkness.

‘This will be interesting.’

She looked forward to what would happen next.

Publicly, the Marchioness’s attempted poisoning was known as simply being bedridden for a while.

After hearing a brief explanation from Haina, the Empress ordered Ashiel to visit the Marquisate of La Voletta.

“Your task is to invite Verit to tea time. Remember that.”

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ashiel’s opinion didn’t matter.

When the Empress commanded, she had to act.

That was Ashiel’s position and the extent of her power.

‘I need to make the Duchy of Radelica my ally as soon as possible.’

Becoming engaged to Cardel would bind them in a preliminary marriage relationship.

That would help build her pathetically weak faction, even a little.

“…Much better than doing nothing.”

She was a hundred, a thousand times better than the Second Imperial Consort who’d been in seclusion for so long, at least finding a way to survive.

At least, that’s what Ashiel thought.

* * *

A white carriage covered in golden decorations stopped in front of the Marquisate of La Voletta’s main gate.

“I greet the Flower of Vesasium. Thank you for coming, Your Highness.”

“Not at all, Young Marquis. Of course I should come when the Madam is ill.”

“Thank you for your consideration. I’ll escort you to the drawing room.”

Hesion and Ashiel moved to the drawing room and began conversing.

“Is she feeling better now? I was so shocked to hear she suddenly collapsed…”

“She’s much better. They said it was simply overwork.”

“With so much work, it’s only natural she’d be exhausted.”

By ‘work,’ she meant the banquet. Catching Ashiel’s underlying meaning, Hesion swallowed his bitterness.

“By the way, is Verit very busy? I came partly because I wanted to see her after so long…”

Ashiel spread her fan and trailed off.

Indirectly revealing her displeasure, Hesion struggled to make excuses.

“Verit is… not feeling well right now. She caught a summer cold and told even me not to come to her room.”

“Oh my, she must be quite ill. What should we do…”

Closing her fan, Ashiel picked up a steaming teacup.

‘She must know I’m visiting. Not feeling well is clearly an excuse.’

Why lie?

Verit might not know, but Haina was the Empress’s hands and feet.

Through her, the Empress already knew the Marchioness had nearly been poisoned.

The Empress sent Ashiel to confirm the facts and gauge the Marquisate of La Voletta’s atmosphere.

And to invite Verit to tea time.

‘So is this a refusal?’

Knowing the Princess came to convey the Empress’s regards yet not showing her face could be taken as refusal.

But that would put Ashiel in quite a bind.

‘Should I call Haina? Or drag Verit out forcibly?’

Approaching forcibly could damage her own reputation instead.

Valuing courtesy was a virtue for royalty and nobility.

Then someone entered, opening the drawing room door.

“I greet the Flower of Vesasium. I apologize for coming down late, Your Highness. I wasn’t feeling well…, cough!”

At Verit’s brazen appearance, Ashiel’s eyebrow twitched.

“It’s fine, Verit. Thank you for coming when you’re not feeling well…”

Ashiel’s words didn’t finish.

Because of the maid attending behind Verit.

‘Why is Haina with Verit?’

Did the Empress order it? But if so, she would have mentioned it.

Did she act independently? But why?

She couldn’t read Haina’s move.

What purpose did she have in approaching Verit?

“…Your Highness?”

Her reverie was broken by Verit.

Looking at her questioningly, Ashiel collected herself.

‘She must have a reason for attaching herself. She’s someone who’ll handle things well.’

“I felt dizzy for a moment and was rude. Thank you for coming, Verit.”

“Thank you for understanding, Your Highness.”

Ashiel received Verit’s greeting while observing Hesion’s face.

‘They didn’t coordinate, it seems?’

Just as Ashiel had been flustered, so was Hesion.

His expression showed he couldn’t understand why Verit came out now.

“I heard you caught a bad cold, but are you okay now?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m much better now.”

‘Something seems different.’

What is it?

She’d felt dissonance since earlier. Since Verit appeared.

‘Hesion is the same. Did Verit change?’

She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but the atmosphere seemed different.

‘Well, as long as it doesn’t harm me, it doesn’t matter.’

Thinking of others in this world was a luxury.

Giving up one’s life was something only the well-fed did.

“I’m glad you’re better. I’d like to have tea time alone soon… Would you have time?”

“It would be an honor, Your Highness.”

“Then I’ll send an invitation soon.”

Ashiel said she should leave now, and conveyed that the Empress was very worried and wished for a speedy recovery.

“I’ll escort you to the carriage.”

“Thank you.”

As the Young Marquis and Ashiel rose together, Verit also stood.

“It was nice seeing you today, Verit. See you next time.”

“Travel safely, Your Highness.”

Leaving Verit behind, the Young Marquis and Ashiel exited the mansion again.

“It’s a shame we met so briefly. I hope we can talk longer next time.”

“I hope so too.”

Outside the main gate, the palace carriage was waiting.

As they approached, the coachman dismounted and opened the carriage door.

“Thank you for the escort, Young Marquis.”

“Not at all, Your Highness. It’s what a gentleman should do.”

“How courteous.”

After boarding the carriage, the moment Hesion released her hand, Ashiel slipped him a note while pretending to let go.

“We might have business to attend to soon as well.”

With those words, the carriage door closed.

Clop clop clop—

The carriage carrying Ashiel began rolling slowly.

Growing more distant until it completely disappeared from view, Hesion stood frozen in place like a faithful wife turned to stone.

“Young Master, let’s go inside. The wind is cold.”

“…Let’s.”

When the butler spoke, unable to watch any longer, Hesion entered the mansion like he was being chased.

The note he unfolded upon reaching his office contained a concise sentence.

[Three days from now, Fastro Street, Shop Number 5.]

Sender: Crown Prince. Messenger: Princess.

* * *

Clang!

The metallic scraping sound created by clashing swords filled the training grounds.

This sound was proof the knights were training hard and an element of the important process that would bring good results.

“Ten minute break! Rest and then we go again!”

The Lacrel Knights were famous for their brutal training intensity starting from knight squires.

The reason was that the Commander personally managed training from the knight squire level.

After Alisa resigned as Commander, Leopold took over, and training was getting harder day by day.

“Haa… I’m dying from exhaustion.”

A girl with roughly tied orange bob-cut hair lay sprawled on the training ground floor and let out a deep sigh.

“Get up, Caryl. Want to get points deducted again for dropping dirt in the dormitory?”

The orange bob-cut girl was Caryl. She was a friend Evolaine had recently made and a fellow knight squire in training.

“But I don’t have the strength to walk to that stone floor… Plus, even if I get there, the ground is hot.”

“That’s just summer. What can you do?”

“What a cold friend. Won’t you show some empathy for poor me?”

Caryl pretended to cry and demanded sympathy, but Evolaine’s blade-sharp attitude remained consistently unbending.