Everyone in the audience chamber turned around at once.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking utterly disbelieving and laughing. When Mireille saw Egon standing there with a crutch, her face drained completely of color.

“Y-you—how…!”

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Lady Mireille.”

Egon sneered openly. With Brandt’s help, he made his way unsteadily towards the center of the chamber. As he attempted to kneel before the Emperor, a hand was raised to stop him.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Egon bowed his head in gratitude for the Emperor’s consideration, then spoke with his head lowered.

“I, Egon Bergman of the Gruber Ducal Knights, stand before Your Majesty. May Eisenbart’s radiant light ever shine upon you.”

“I accept Egon Bergman as a key witness in the matter presently under deliberation. If you have anything to add regarding Lady Mireille’s testimony, you may speak.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Egon answered respectfully and raised his head.

He did not speak at once. Instead, he fixed his gaze squarely on Lady Mireille. He watched her bite her nails nervously and curved his lips into a crooked smile.

“You claim that I extorted exorbitant profits through moneylending?”

“The promissory note is right there, isn’t it? You pressured Count Lindenrosen with an outrageous interest rate and even tried to abduct Her Highness the Crown Princess and His Highness the Imperial Grandson. If you were blinded by greed and stained a knight’s honor, you ought to be ashamed!”

“If I stained a knight’s honor, then it was because I was following your orders.”

His brown eyes burned as they locked onto Mireille.

If not for his injured leg, it looked as though he might have seized her by the collar on the spot.

“She said she’d return obediently to the duchy if I did exactly as I was told. So I did something vile. I shouldn’t have.”

“What did I ever order you to do?”

Mireille scoffed, as though the idea were absurd. She pushed Kalina aside and snatched the promissory note out of her hands.

“Look at this!That’s your signature! You did it!”

She shouted triumphantly, her eyes blazing.

With her disheveled hair and streaks of mascara running down her face from crying, she no longer looked like a noble lady. She looked like a madwoman roaming the streets and grabbing at strangers while ranting nonsense.

“You did all of this! I was just trying to clean up after you! Admit it!”

Even when the promissory note was shoved right up to his face, Egon did not waver. He studied it calmly, then twisted his lips into a crooked smile.

“…Pfft.”

The sound of his laughter grew louder. His shoulders shook as he laughed openly at Mireille. Mireille felt deeply humiliated, although he didn’t know why. His face flushed red.

“Don’t laugh! Be quiet!”

“Hahaha—ha!”

“I said stop laughing!”

“You know one thing and not the other. What is it that has you so smug?”

After laughing for a while, Egon finally spoke, his voice still laced with mirth. His cryptic words sent a ripple of unease through the chamber.

Then he leaned in and whispered something to Brandt, who was supporting him. As the two knights exchanged words in hushed tones, Mireille’s complexion darkened.

“Excuse me for a moment, my lady.”

Brandt stepped towards Mireille and spoke flatly. He took the promissory note from her and passed it to Egon.

Egon inclined his head to Brandt in thanks, then raised the document.

“I acted as Lady Mireille’s hands and feet, on her orders. This is the proof.”

“Lies! How could that possibly be proof?”

Mireille shrieked in disbelief. Egon lifted one corner of his mouth.

“This paper is premium contract stock, produced exclusively in the Grand Duchy of Gruber. It does not burn, dissolve in water or tear. You insisted that this operation had to succeed, ordering me to write Count Lindenrosen’s promissory note on this very paper.”

“So that’s where you were going with this.”

Mireille let out a short laugh as she listened. Folding her arms, she sneered.

“So what if it’s Gruber paper? What of it? You’re from the duchy too. Anyone can buy that kind of paper!”

“That’s why I said you only know one thing.”

Once he had finished speaking, Brandt took the promissory note and walked over to the fireplace.

As he held the bottom left corner of the paper close to the flames, a pattern slowly emerged where there had been nothing before.

‘What is that…?’

Seraphina studied the design intently.

At that moment, Damian—standing beside her—let out a quiet breath of astonishment.

“…It’s over.”

In response to Damian’s quiet words, Seraphina looked back at the crest. The pattern had now become unmistakably clear: it was a shield bearing a halved fig and a vanilla pod.

It was the personal emblem of Lady Mireille von Aurilien of the Grand Duchy of Gruber.

“…!”

When the crest appeared, murmurs rippled through the chamber. Mireille collapsed to the floor, screaming shrilly.

“No! No!”

“This was paper you personally provided, Lady Mireille. Have you already forgotten?”

“It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me, Your Majesty!”

The Emperor did not respond to Mireille’s pleas. Watching his reaction closely, Seraphina quietly followed his gaze.

He was looking sidelong at the Empress.

Suspicion filled his eyes as he regarded his wife.

The Empress stood frozen to the spot, one hand pressed over her mouth in silent shock. She was not surprised by Mireille’s crimes, but fearful. It was clear that she was worried she might be judged next, too.

“Your Majesty the Empress! Please—say something!”

In response to Mireille’s desperate plea, the Empress’s face hardened. She lowered her hand and addressed her in a cold, composed tone.

“Lady Mireille. If you have committed wrongdoing, then repent and accept your punishment.”

“How can you do this to me?!”

Mireille screamed, her voice thick with resentment.

Seraphina pressed her lips together and shifted her gaze between the Empress and Mireille.

In truth, Mireille had reason to feel wronged.

She had not been the only one at fault.

It was the Empress who had set everything in motion by drawing Mireille in, filling her head with false hopes and deliberately stoking her jealousy.

And that was not all.

The Empress had committed no less grave evils than Mireille had.

Only hers were more subtle. Insidious. Calculated.

She had hurled cruel words at Seraphina without hesitation — words that diminished her, eroded her spirit, and relentlessly gnawed at her mind.

She had manipulated both Fabiola and Mireille, thereby isolating Seraphina within the palace’s social circles.

When she was angry, she forced Seraphina into submission with her dominant pheromones. Her seizing the newborn Lucas on a whim and declaring that she would raise him herself was the icing on the cake.

Direct physical violence was not a prerequisite for committing a crime.

In some ways, the Empress’s crimes were the worst of all.

She had always made sure she had an escape route.

‘I can’t let her walk away like this.’

Seraphina clenched her fists as she looked at the Empress. Then she turned her gaze back to Mireille.

Seeing the woman burn with hatred and betrayal towards the Empress, Seraphina smiled gently.

‘I’ll need your help, my lady.’

Mireille had always tormented Seraphina.

Whether she wanted it or not, however, Mireille was going to help her.

They had the same enemy.