Yesterday, Reina, the Marquis’s daughter, came to the Duke’s estate again. Though she showed up uninvited, she still dined with the Duke’s household as the head’s longtime childhood friend.

Astaire recalled her appearance from yesterday. He went through each expression she showed him and every unconscious gesture, one by one.

Nothing particularly suspicious came to mind, but he still couldn’t let his guard down.

Her father was a veteran who’d spent decades in central politics. Reina, who inherited his blood, wouldn’t be much different. Rather, Astaire exercised caution precisely because he knew her and her father well.

“Your Grace’s suspicions were correct after all.”

Traitor.

Even hearing the report that the Melanian Marquis family—his longtime childhood friend’s house and current political ally—was the traitor within the First Prince’s support faction, Astaire showed no surprise.

After all, he was the one who’d first noticed something amiss and ordered his subordinates to investigate.

“Should I report this to His Highness the First Prince?”

“No. We don’t have solid evidence yet.”

But the Duke remained cautious and then cautious again. At his words to observe for now, the aide nodded as well.

“…I heard from the head butler that Reina Melanian visited yesterday. Is that not a problem?”

Germo asked after hesitating briefly. Naturally, he knew well that Reina, the Marquis’s daughter, was the Duke’s longtime childhood friend.

Despite suspecting the Melanian Marquis family all this time, Astaire hadn’t stopped interacting with Reina. No, he’d even deliberately arranged to become entangled with her professionally.

“You keep dangerous things closer.”

A calm answer returned. Puzzlement crossed the aide’s face. He found it hard to understand keeping close someone who might stab you in the back at any moment.

“Um, this is presumptuous of me to say.”

“What?”

“No matter how intimate and necessary the relationship, spending too much time with Melanian’s daughter might be uncomfortable from Her Grace’s perspective. If necessary, perhaps explaining the general situation to Her Grace…”

Seeing Astaire’s brow furrow, Germo quickly bowed his head.

“My apologies. I mentioned it out of concern that their relationship might sour.”

Astaire didn’t particularly rebuke him for overstepping. But the Duke’s stern expression and silence frightened the aide more.

Astaire muttered quietly while gazing out the window.

“Ignorance can serve as a shield.”

“…”

Germo kept his mouth shut, not knowing what to say.

After the Emperor severely injured himself in a riding accident several years ago and grew weak, the Empire reached a crossroads. Which of the Emperor’s two children would become the next Emperor was the hottest topic in current imperial politics.

Though the scales still tipped heavily toward the First Prince, who’d successfully won over most high-ranking nobles, as past history proved, no one could predict when the political landscape might shift.

If things went wrong, central politics meant being falsely accused of crimes you didn’t commit, getting pointed at, and buried overnight. Beyond just family ruin, heads could roll.

Therefore, regardless of which prince they supported, nobles had to walk a precarious tightrope daily, caught between two opposing forces.

Astaire sat in a position where he absolutely couldn’t show weakness even when struggling.

If by chance the tide completely reversed later…

“Better to lose one head than two.”

Though the words alone would send cold sweat down anyone’s spine, Astaire spoke with excessive indifference.

He wasn’t the type to visibly cherish those he kept as close aides. Rather, he squeezed people dry like wringing out rags while compensating them with massive rewards.

But even this endlessly strict and cold man wasn’t completely devoid of humanity.

Of course, Daphne was fated to fall with him if he went to hell.

That’s what selling your life to someone meant.

However, Astaire simply found that distasteful.

“Shouldn’t have bought it back then.”

“Pardon?”

Astaire raised the corners of his mouth, recalling a memory only he knew.

“Just regretting an impulse purchase from the past a bit now.”

The aide’s eyes widened. The Duke Seyfried he knew was a businessman and investor to his bones.

An impulse purchase from someone who tried to discern the very best among the finest gems?

Moreover, saying he regretted it?

“It’s nothing.”

The Duke straightened in his chair. A distinctly different gleam appeared in his eyes as he propped his chin on both hands.

Writhing in anxiety while staying still served no purpose.

If he had time to worry about the future, focusing on the present was best.

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Explain. I’ll judge after hearing everything.”

Germo’s face grew endlessly serious again. He handed Astaire a set of documents he’d separated from the pile.

“Intelligence came in that the Second Prince will return from the battlefield soon. It’s information from a reliable source.”

“So he’s coming back alive after all.”

Phaios di Blanterian Avont.

The political rival of the First Prince whom Astaire supported would return neither dead nor injured.

This was truly an unexpected variable.

“We should start preparing.”

They’d somehow succeeded in sending the relatively weak Second Prince to the battlefield—specifically to the fiercest frontline with the highest casualty rate.

But what if the imperial grandson driven to the fierce battlefield didn’t obediently die?

What if, far from dying in battle, he turned the tide to victory and returned home in glory as a war hero?

If he gained the fervent support of the imperial citizens rather than high nobles, the Second Prince would no longer hold a position that could be ignored like before.

“I tried to find out as much as possible, but there still wasn’t much information on the Second Prince. There are rumors he attended the Imperial Academy, but we couldn’t find him on the graduate roster either.”

“That makes sense. He would’ve used a false name to disguise his identity and regularly dyed that distinctive imperial hair color to hide it.”

Germo quietly raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

As the Duke’s aide, he held full authority over the Seyfried ducal family’s internal intelligence department. Yet Astaire had already grasped information he was still searching for.

Inwardly impressed, Germo asked.

“Do you know the Second Prince well?”

“No. I don’t know him well.”

Astaire rose from his seat and moved to the window.

With a swoosh, the curtain swept aside in his hand. Dawn had already become morning.

The early morning sunlight was so dazzling it stung, making the aide standing facing the window squint and shield his eyes.

But Astaire didn’t avoid it. He didn’t bow his head even before the sun.

“But I know someone who knows the Second Prince well.”

* * *

Several more days passed.

Though the relationship between the Duke and Duchess Seyfried had subtle cracks, to others everything seemed peacefully fine.

If one had to point out a single change, the peculiarity was that Duchess Daphne Seyfried had become somewhat kinder to the estate’s servants than before.

Daphne had always treated servants reasonably well for a noble.

Though she didn’t treat everyone warmly regardless of status, not making unreasonable demands alone made her worthy of being called a good mistress to the servants.

Considering most nobles treated maids and servants like accessories or household furniture.

So even people unaware of the ducal couple’s circumstances noticed nothing amiss.

‘They must be getting along well these days.’

They might even think that.

Daphne targeted precisely that point.

The moment people felt reassured, they inevitably relaxed without realizing it. They became complacent without knowing they’d grown lax.

Daphne didn’t rush at all. She steadily prepared to stand on her own.

Even preparing for when she’d have to leave without Astaire’s knowledge, she deliberately treated the servants well to sway them.

The Grand Duchess should be contacting her soon.

“I wonder if the Grand Duchess arrived safely in the south.”

Daphne, who’d been looking at the colorful flowers blooming in the garden, spoke up. The teacup in her hand silently descended to the table.

Not a single drop of tea remained inside.

“We haven’t heard any news, but as they say, no news is good news. She must be resting well in the south.”

The head butler answered while pouring tea from the teapot.

The Empire’s bustling capital had many aspects that tired a middle-aged woman of considerable years. So Grand Duchess Seyfried spent most of her time at a villa in a southern resort city, recuperating.

“I have something to send the Grand Duchess in a letter.”

“I’ll prepare it right away.”

“Yes, please.”

Since the day she parted with the Grand Duchess at the estate’s main gate, Daphne had been waiting for news from her daily.

‘I’ll send a letter soon.’

Still, she didn’t think the Grand Duchess would break her promise.

Separate from their awkward relationship, she was a sensible person who understood propriety.

She was simply bound by the gradually crumbling noble society and class system, excessively measuring and constraining not only herself but others to match it.

She couldn’t expect the Grand Duchess’s temperament to change now. Just like long ago, no matter how hard she worked as a maid, there was no way to prevent the Countess’s hysteria.

The one in need must move first.

Daphne judged it better to send a letter to the Grand Duchess first rather than waiting for one.

“Once you write it, I’ll send it today.”

“Thank you.”

The head butler brought a fountain pen and stationery, then stepped back. He stood behind, quietly watching the Duchess write to the Grand Duchess.

The fountain pen moved smoothly in her hand without hesitation. The head butler suddenly wondered.

Was Her Grace close enough to the Grand Duchess to exchange letters?

Rather, the two of them…

“When she visited the estate a few days ago, we had unfinished business.”

Daphne spoke as though reading the head butler’s mind. The head butler, caught off guard, quietly flinched.

Seeing the Duchess’s expression looking unconcerned, treating it like nothing, he felt embarrassed for harboring needless suspicions.

The ducal couple’s relationship had once been troubled enough for divorce talk, but things had been quiet lately. Perhaps the debate over divorce was just a common conflict any couple might experience once. The head butler judged it so.

Having the master couple he served maintain a peaceful relationship was one of the head butler’s great joys.

“The estate’s dedicated postman visits every evening at sunset. Would it be alright to deliver it then?”

“Let’s do that.”

She sealed the finished letter neatly with sealing wax and handed the envelope to the head butler.

That’s when it happened.