“Strange things… are happening at the mansion.”

Verit, who had changed. Verit’s maid, who’d been replaced at some point.

The sudden attempted poisoning. The Marquis’s condition, worsening like mad from some point onward.

You could call it misfortune, but could all of this really happen simultaneously by coincidence?

“The reason I want to meet Evolaine is because there’s something I want to ask her.”

The emotion he felt the moment he first met Evolaine at the banquet was ‘bewilderment.’

If his father had been a woman and younger, wouldn’t she have looked like that?

They resembled each other in so many ways.

Face and movements. Even their expressionlessness.

Yet compared to that, he and Verit had never once been told they resembled the Marquis.

With both father and mother present, how had no one ever said he resembled his father?

The strange thing was that even he thought so.

The Marquis and his son were far too different.

The Marquisate of La Voletta had inherited talent for swordsmanship through generations.

Though chosen by Kelic, even Evolaine, who’d never held a sword, joined the Lacrel Knights in just a few weeks.

But what about him?

He had no talent for swordsmanship whatsoever.

His body was frail, and even if he filled in his stamina through effort, he lacked even the basic sense for swordsmanship, so training showed no proper results.

In another family, you could simply think he had absolutely no talent for the sword.

But not the Marquisate of La Voletta.

They’d learned swordsmanship through generations, produced Kelic heirs each era, and all family members left excellent achievements as knights regardless of gender.

‘There must be a reason.’

“…”

Astrian observed the changes in Hesion’s expression.

When people lie, subtle tells inevitably show on their faces.

Though Hesion didn’t mention details about what he wanted to ask Evolaine, his face showed the content was negative for him.

‘This family is just as complicated.’

The imperial family was the imperial family, but even to him, this generation’s Marquisate of La Voletta seemed incredibly tangled.

“I’ll tell you next time when the moment’s right. Since you trusted me and told me your reason, I should reciprocate.”

“…Thank you, Your Highness.”

Even at the words that he wouldn’t tell him right away, Hesion made no particular objection.

‘Such a transparent person with a good heart.’

But revealing your inner thoughts was never an advantage in noble society.

Being transparent meant your inner self could be read.

Hadn’t even the Empress mastered reading people’s inner thoughts to manipulate their psychology?

‘He’ll be fortunate if he’s not just used.’

He wondered how he’d managed to endure well until now.

Since the Marquis fell ill, the Marquisate’s internal affairs had long been under the Marchioness’s jurisdiction.

Honestly, given the Marchioness’s tendencies, managing the family was difficult.

She was impulsive and far too easily swayed.

Yet the Marquisate of La Voletta remained solid despite the Marquis not handling things for so long.

‘It would be surprising if the Young Marquis was involved.’

His participation in family affairs would mean he had political sense.

Though that was purely hypothetical, of course.

‘The Marquisate is a family where the direct and branch lines are close. Even if the direct line wavers, the branch lines won’t just stand by.’

Since it wasn’t a family that would easily crumble just because the head fell, the possible branches were far too varied.

“More importantly, how can we get the Marquis’s permission? We need to enter that room to get what we want.”

“First, Father needs to wake up. Even with permission, he needs to be present to open it.”

“Isn’t there a key or something?”

“No, the head of house must be present to enter.”

“That’s troublesome.”

Without a key or tool to unlock that room, there was no other method.

‘How do we wake the sleeping Marquis?’

Calling it sleep—in reality, he had so little strength in his body he couldn’t even stay awake.

What Astrian knew was only that the Marquis was weakening because the next Kelic had appeared.

But a question arose here.

‘Is it really right that the next Kelic heir appearing makes him weak like he’s dying?’

Even when he’d searched imperial history out of curiosity, there were no similar records.

Cases like the Marquis of La Voletta’s were unprecedented.

‘It must be related to Evolaine.’

Since that child was this generation’s Kelic heir.

“When does the Marquis wake?”

“He used to wake about once every ten days, but now even that seems difficult.”

“Still, we can’t give up. When the Marquis wakes, contact me immediately with the orb I gave you. Day, night, or dawn—doesn’t matter.”

“Understood.”

“…Next time, let’s meet together with the Marquis.”

‘I’ll know if I ask directly.’

There would be at least some clue about the unknown inner workings.

Nothing completely sinks without a trace.

* * *

On this particularly sunny day, a special guest arrived.

“Welcome, Verit.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Your Highness.”

Verit had accepted the invitation sent last time under the pretext of visiting the ailing Marchioness.

The message said she wanted tea time with simple refreshments, but the real purpose was different.

‘I need to transform Verit into a card.’

A ‘card’ meant the Empress’s card. She needed to become a piece the Empress could move.

Inviting Verit to tea time was the Empress’s plan from the start.

“I’ll come in the middle. But don’t let Verit know.”

“Is there a reason she specifically shouldn’t know?”

Wouldn’t Verit want to prepare herself mentally before seeing the Empress?

But the Empress sighed, seemingly disappointed by such a question.

“Why do you think they call it a surprise gift? Receiving it unknowingly makes the joy more dramatic, doesn’t it?”

“…I suppose.”

“You just need to do as I say. Don’t argue.”

Just the Empress’s card, nothing more, nothing less.

Ashiel felt unbearable humiliation but could only bite her lip.

Because she hadn’t solidified her position as a member of the imperial family.

Because her faction was weak. Because she had no maternal family.

All the lacking parts came back as faults and became Ashiel’s weaknesses.

“…I’ll keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”

“Whatever.”

A tone saying she didn’t care whether Ashiel kept it or not. What Ashiel hated most.

“Your Highness? Are you alright?”

Verit’s voice broke her reverie.

Ashiel quickly composed her expression and pulled herself together sharply.

Tension. An emotion absolutely necessary to survive in the imperial palace.

Never show an opening. Even if the other person was very close and beloved.

“Of course, Verit. I worried a lot because it rained yesterday, but fortunately the weather’s nice today, so I’m happy.”

“Me too.”

Verit wasn’t much different from when she’d visited the mansion.

The sense of dissonance still existed. What was surprising was that the image of Verit she’d known before remained.

That made the atmosphere strange, giving the feeling of seeing a pure young demon.

‘Is it Haina’s influence?’

But Haina wasn’t someone specialized in social skills.

She was naturally gifted and boasted tremendous skill in physical activities like assassination and martial arts, but socializing was different.

That was why the Empress didn’t send her outside.

She wasn’t a talent to use for social skills, nor was she outstanding in that area.

‘Though it’s not like she lacks social skills.’

Entering the Marquisate directly this time meant she had the ability to wedge herself into relationships between people.

Wasn’t the weapon of high society sharp language?

There was no reason to conclude Haina’s weapon had to be a sword.

“Is the Madam still unwell?”

“The physician said she’ll recover soon. I just hope she gets better quickly.”

“That’s fortunate then.”

With no resistance to poison, it made sense it would take long.

How often would a noble lady eat poison or receive training in her life?

Suddenly reminded of her own past, she felt bitter but didn’t show it.

Perhaps happy to see Ashiel after a long time, Verit gradually became more talkative, unlike her initial quietness.

“Brother seems soft-natured. Should I say he’s too good-hearted?”

“…In what way?”

“Normally too… It’s hard to pinpoint exactly, but anyway, he is.”

As Verit said, the Young Marquis being good-hearted was true. Ashiel agreed.

He was completely unsuited to high society, where people hid knives under their tongues and wore masks.

But he was the next head of house. Verit was his younger sister and a family member.

No matter how close to Ashiel, it wasn’t a topic to bring up in the imperial palace.

‘She’s not the Verit I knew.’

A pure, fragile child. A younger sister who evoked sympathy.

‘Was it all fabricated?’

Despite the sensitive topic, when Verit spoke, sincerity seeped through.

Conversely, recalling their previous conversations, she’d been like an emotionless doll.

The two were different enough to compare.

“Come to think of it, there was a maid I hadn’t seen before beside you when we met then.”

“Ah, she said she just joined. I changed maids because she seemed to have good judgment.”

She spoke like she was replacing an old item with a new one.

Even though maids were people too.

“Really? What do you like best about her?”

“Hmm… Should I say she picks out clothes that suit me well? She seems to have a sense for fashion.”

Verit had a complex about her appearance.

Reddish-brown and violet eyes. Distinct features, a face pretty enough to be told she’d become a beauty even at her young age.

But overall, the red tones were strong, making what clothes she wore quite important.

The previous maids couldn’t find colors that suited Verit, and Verit had been severely stressed about it.

‘Haina made a good move.’

That perceptive woman couldn’t have missed it.

To catch Verit’s eye when she dressed up, she must have found suitable colors at once.

Verit would have developed a favorable impression from that first step.