So he didn’t fall in love at first sight…?

While Raylin hesitated, unable to come to a conclusion, the conversation naturally moved on to Roir’s absence and the future of the project.

After exchanging a few more words, the discussion reached a temporary pause.

As they took a brief break, each holding their teacups, Raylin spoke up.

“Lady Everett?”

“Yes?”

Julia, seemingly nervous, startled and widened her eyes like a rabbit at Raylin’s call.

“Your cup is empty. Does the tea suit your taste? If you have a preference, I can have it prepared for you.”

“Oh, this tea happens to be my favorite. Thank you for asking.”

When her sharp eyes curved into a crescent shape, the entire atmosphere seemed to brighten.

At the same moment, Theron’s gaze became firmly fixed on Julia, and a deep “flutter” surfaced beside him.

Raylin, who had been unsure just moments ago, inwardly cheered.

This is it! A winning stock!

It felt as if a stock she had thought would never go public had not only been listed but was soaring through the roof.

Would it be strange to celebrate someone else’s romance this much? Perhaps. But Raylin genuinely wanted to bless their future.

A man who had finally escaped the grasp of a paranoid lunatic who had killed everyone around him out of delusion, and a woman who had been unjustly executed due to the altered roles in a ruined novel.

She sincerely wished for the two of them to walk only on flower-strewn paths this time.

Normally, she would never meddle in someone else’s romance, but Raylin couldn’t resist adding a word.

“Oh my, this tea happens to be the Duke’s favorite as well. I had it prepared especially for him, and to think that it suits your taste as well—what a delightful coincidence.”

Even their preferred tea leaves were the same. If this wasn’t fate, what was?

While Raylin was celebrating with an internal fanfare, on the outside, she smiled gracefully like the noble lady of a duke’s family.

Julia nodded with a dazed expression, and beside her, a faint but unmistakable “joy” appeared.

As for Theron, though his face remained expressionless, the air around him brightened so visibly that one hardly needed to read his emotions.

Indeed, he was the male lead. When in love, he… well, he certainly showed it. Quite blatantly, in fact.

Feeling both satisfied and slightly amused, Raylin took a moment to examine Julia more closely.

Their meeting had occurred at an entirely unexpected time and place, but unlike when she had first encountered Catherine, this was completely different.

Back then, she had felt nothing but shock and horror.

Now, however, she felt only a slight twinge of guilt and overwhelming joy.

Clink.

Raylin deliberately set her teacup down with an audible click, then looked toward Theron with an even gentler smile than before.

“Well then. Shall we finally hear the real reason for your visit?”

“I appreciate your willingness to entertain my request, despite the discourtesy.”

For someone expressing gratitude, however, his face was set in an unyielding grimace.

But Raylin knew better.

That expression was undeniable proof that Theron Lucart truly felt sorry.

“Honestly, why is he the one looking angrier? The person who should be mad right now is me. Don’t you think?”

That was a complaint Catherine often made after arguing with Theron before the regression.

“Well, he is a duke. If he says words of apology, the burden of responsibility he must bear becomes excessively large…”

“Nobles, huh. If they’re sorry, they should just say so. Why make things so complicated?”

Yet she, too, had thoroughly enjoyed the privileges of her own “status” and had never once uttered an apology.

One day, Raylin asked her,

“You said that if someone is sorry, they should just apologize. But why didn’t you ever say sorry?”

It was clear to anyone that Catherine had been at fault, yet instead of apologizing, she lashed out. Raylin couldn’t help but ask.

“You said nobles shouldn’t say such things, remember? Besides, I wasn’t the only one at fault. That lady also—”

The way she looked at Raylin, as if asking what kind of nonsense she was spouting, left her speechless, and she let the matter slide.

In the end, Catherine had simply never been sorry for anything.

If she had ever felt such normal emotions, she wouldn’t have been a crazy lunatic who went around killing people on a whim.

Raylin, momentarily lost in thought, was pulled back to reality by Theron’s voice.

“Are you aware of the string of disappearances concentrated in the harbor territory and nearby villages?”

“Disappearances?”

It was Julia, not Theron, who answered Raylin’s puzzled inquiry.

“Yes. This isn’t just the usual talk about a few people vanishing each day. Ah, but… the missing individuals are commoners, not nobles.”

Julia had been worried that she might receive a dismissive response like, “What do commoners matter?”—but her expression soon brightened.

“If several people are disappearing daily, then this is truly a grave issue. And yet, there hasn’t been a single report on it.”

So they didn’t come here for the trade ship matter after all. That was merely secondary. This was the real reason.

Raylin met Julia’s steady, bright gaze, staring at her directly.

“You’ve sought the duke’s help because you haven’t been able to find any trace or clues regarding the missing people.”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t find a solution either. However, that region is one that Greuga has invested in for a long time. I thought I could receive assistance, and that’s why I’ve taken the liberty of making this discourteous request.”

Theron added his explanation, and Raylin lightly waved a hand.

“This kind of discourtesy is more than welcome. The people of the territory have gone missing; you must have been deeply concerned. Greuga will do everything in its power to find them.”

Her voice wasn’t particularly loud or forceful, yet for some reason, it carried a firm and unshakable trust.

It was because she had spoken with nothing but sincerity.

Julia smiled as brightly as ever and bowed her head deeply.

“Thank you!”

“Oh my, I should be the one thanking you instead. It’s rare to meet a noble who fulfills their duty so well.”

“Oh, I’m not that grand of a…”

Before the embarrassed and blushing Julia could finish her sentence—

Knock, knock.

With a knock at the door, a maid’s voice came from outside.

“Excuse me, my lady. It’s almost time for you to leave.”

Hearing that, Theron asked,

“You have an appointment today?”

His expression hardened, much like when he first arrived. Raylin smiled gently at him and made a suggestion.

“Yes. But, Duke, and Lady Everett—would you both like to accompany me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Huh? Me as well?”

Theron and Julia reacted similarly to Raylin’s sudden words.

And as they listened to her next statement, they became even more flustered.

“Yes. We are going to meet the Crown Prince.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Theron’s expression stiffened for an entirely different reason than before, while Julia turned completely pale.

But Raylin, unfazed, simply stood up and spoke calmly.

“As the Duke said, there are no leads whatsoever to solve this case, right? The Crown Prince will definitely know something.”

No one knew where her confidence came from, but her unwavering conviction was enough to captivate them.

Led by Raylin, Theron and Julia left the Duke’s mansion together.

***

Around the time the three left the Greuga Duke’s mansion, Aiger was rubbing his throbbing temples, having just closed an experiment log he didn’t even want to look at.

“…This will be usable, won’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Phew. At least that’s some relief—no, calling this a relief would bring divine punishment.”

Shaking his head, his aide pushed the experiment log—stained with who-knows-what—aside with the tip of his pen.

“To think they recorded such detailed information about the people they abducted… These fools.”

One of his subordinates grimaced, prompting the advisor to click his tongue.

“They’re not fools. It’s necessary for the experiment to progress properly. Materials for the experiment… or whatever they call it.”

“What?”

The subordinate tilted his head in confusion, and the aide answered briefly.

“Would you continue using something if it wasn’t useful for the work?”

“Ah… That’s what you mean.”

The subordinate grimaced in disgust, finally understanding. The aide turned to Aiger and spoke.

“The experiment dates and methods have all been meticulously recorded. If we use them alongside the name register, it should serve as solid evidence. However…”

He trailed off, his expression souring as if he had swallowed something unbearably bitter.

Before the advisor could say it, Aiger spoke first.

“You mean to say that in order to secure undeniable proof, we will also need the corpses of those who were sacrificed for the experiment.”

Aiger let out a deep sigh, pressing his temples as he closed the experiment log he could hardly bear to look at.

“I really hate to say this as well. Ethically and morally, we should return the bodies to their families after properly handling them. That’s the right thing to do, of course. But if all we have are these scraps of paper, the emperor will just deny everything outright. He’ll claim we fabricated it.”

Aiger could not refute the advisor’s words.

Even if they had the bodies, the emperor was the kind of man who would shamelessly feign ignorance.

However, Aiger could not easily issue an order to preserve the corpses and hide them from the emperor’s eyes.

His cold logic told him that doing so would allow them to save more people in the long run. But at the same time, it was like being presented with an unsolvable dilemma.

Would he choose the sacrifice of the few for the sake of the many?

Hiding the bodies, waiting until they could compile the experiment logs, the list of names, and all other evidence to ensure the emperor could never escape responsibility—that would be for the greater good.

But was it truly right to ignore the few who would spend their days shedding endless tears, not even knowing whether their beloved family members were dead or alive?

Though he hesitated to give permission, the aide, as if reading Aiger’s internal struggle, did not press the issue further.

The silence between Aiger, lost in thought, and his aide, who was carefully selecting a secure location and trustworthy people to safeguard the evidence, stretched on.

Then—