Chapter 6.2

“The date is three days from now. The location is the gambling den.”

Cyril still couldn’t decide his stance on this “rebellion.” Normally, his opinion wouldn’t have mattered at all, but the exceedingly suspicious circumstances of the Knights made him hesitate in fulfilling his duties.  

The administrative officer handed him another small note. Its contents were the same as last time: the date and location.  

The basement of the building across from the Rose Flower Shop. Deploy one person.  

The accompanying map marked a spot somewhere in the city that hardly seemed like it would house a gambling den, leaving Cyril momentarily puzzled. Noticing his hesitation, the administrative officer clicked his tongue.  

“Don’t tell me, Sir Cyril—you’ve never been to an underground gambling den?”  

“… I’m sorry.”  

“Well, that’s just like you. Consider this a chance to take a look around. It’s not exactly legal, but it’s not entirely illegal either. I had quite a bit of fun there in my younger days.”  

An underground gambling den. Emerich, the administrative officer, was one of the rare members of the Knights who had never wielded a sword, so he must have been on the betting side. Cyril Frey’s aversion to gambling stemmed not only from his upright personality but also from his family’s long history of managing the royal treasury.  

‘Betting money and spilling others’ blood—isn’t that no different from the war Duke Ingram is planning?’ 

Suppressing his furrowed brow, Cyril carefully examined the map on the note again. Across from the marked location was the “Rose Flower Shop,” just as the message said. He was baffled that they would use something as trivial as a flower shop as a landmark… 

Wait, was there even a flower shop in that spot? 

Cyril tilted his head repeatedly as he tucked the note into his coat. To avoid getting lost three days later, he planned to scout the area in advance. Incidentally, he also needed flowers. While the Odillon estate’s garden bloomed year-round with an abundance of flowers that even a child could gather into a bouquet, it wasn’t appropriate to pluck flowers from Danielle’s garden and present them to her.  

Since the masquerade ball—a night he wanted to forget but couldn’t—Cyril’s first course of action had been to visit every social event he had neglected. Even amidst the uncertainty of the treason investigation and his own indecision, he diligently attended tea parties and salons.  

His sudden change of heart drew considerable attention from gossipmongers, who dubbed him “the most eligible bachelor in the capital.” This, despite his engagement being secured at the age of ten.  

Cyril leaned heavily on his hypothesis that the woman in the white mask was a member of a high-ranking noble family. She had striking black hair and green eyes. Of course, green eyes were as common in the capital as Cyril’s own blonde hair, and black hair was more common than red. The hair could easily have been a dark wig suitable for nighttime escapades.  

Still, with even this small clue, he couldn’t afford to do nothing. Starting from the summer festival, he wandered the bustling capital’s social scene, observing noblewomen with black hair. And, as expected, Danielle Odillon—his fiancée, who also had black hair and green eyes—never accompanied him to any of these gatherings.  

Cyril was a diligent man, one who adhered to etiquette and propriety… and, lastly, a man who was afraid. To every tea party, salon, and ball he attended, he sent his fiancée an invitation along with a single flower. Accompanying it was a polite letter asking her to join him if she had the time.  

The errand boy who delivered these letters thought the beautiful young lady was rather cruel, while the young master seemed pitiable. He privately wondered if things wouldn’t be resolved more quickly if Cyril visited her in person and perhaps even got slapped. Danielle, with half-lidded eyes, would read the invitation and letter side by side, then stack them neatly atop the pile of previously received invitations without giving them a second thought. The boy, left with no choice, would return to Cyril and deliver the same response each time: ‘The young lady is busy.’ He couldn’t bring himself to mention that Danielle sometimes stared at roses for a long time, murmuring, ‘Flowers can’t even be eaten…’

Since the annual meeting between the Royal Knights and the Royal Investigation Bureau, the two had not seen each other. It was the longest time they had gone without meeting since their engagement. Neither of them knew the exact reason. Perhaps it was lingering resentment from an argument, being too busy, or something weighing on their minds. When that weight was finally pushed aside by another, Cyril made up his mind.

He selected an invitation to a prestigious musical social gathering and headed to the “Rose Flower Shop”. This time, instead of a single flower, he planned to bring an entire bouquet and deliver it in person, timed perfectly to meet her at home.

Thanks to his timing, Danielle was indeed at the mansion. Unfortunately, due to his poor timing, there was already another guest present.

The gatekeeper, seeing Cyril holding not flowers but a bag of confections, hesitated briefly before informing the young lady of her fiancé’s visit. Permission to enter was granted with surprising ease. Cyril straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath before stepping toward Danielle’s private parlor. It wasn’t as though he was there to give a formal report… but from the side, he might have looked a little pitiful.

The buttery aroma wafting from the bag in his arms tickled his nose. The fact that it wasn’t the scent of roses had frustrated him several times on his way there. But standing in front of the parlor door, there was no turning back. With stiff steps, he entered the wide-open doorway.

In front of him was Danielle, with the same face as always—the same as when they had gone out to get her masquerade ball gown fitted, and the same as when they had last argued and parted ways. On either side of her were two guests who had graciously allowed Cyril’s visit. Both were unfamiliar faces.

Danielle stood up and approached Cyril. Instead of holding his hand or embracing him, she merely snatched the bag of confections from his arms and greeted him briefly.

“It’s been a while.”  

“Y-yes.”  

“Did you stop by the Rose Flower Shop? I just finished the ones I bought earlier. Perfect timing. Come and meet our guests. These are the children of Duke Ingram. They’ve come to the capital with their father.”  

The guests, seated around a modest and friendly tea table adorned with biscuits, madeleines, and Danielle’s favorite pale green teacups and teapot, rose from their seats.  

‘The children of Duke Ingram?’ 

Sir Cyril knew that the man had one son and one daughter. The man standing on the left, of medium height with a slightly stern impression, greeted him and extended his hand for a handshake. Meanwhile, the young woman sitting across from her brother at the tea table…

“Hello, Sir Cyril. I’ve heard about you from Lady Odillon. I’m glad to finally meet you today.”

A young woman with long, wavy black hair tied halfway up raised her deep green eyes and greeted Cyril.

***

To speak of Cyril’s purpose, he was able to attend the social music gathering. However, it was not in the way Cyril had envisioned.

After Cyril was welcomed in, both Katarin and Lawrence joined the tea party. Danielle, commenting that the conversation would run long with so many people, arranged a full dinner in the mansion’s dining room. Cyril, feeling slightly bewildered, found himself slicing chicken while noticing that the pastries he had brought from the “Rose Flower Shop” were relegated to dessert after the meal.

Neither Katarin Martel nor Lawrence Weiss were people Cyril found particularly uncomfortable. However, the atmosphere at this gathering… It felt as though he had awkwardly inserted himself into a Royal Investigation Bureau dinner party. The presence of Director Ingram’s children only heightened this feeling. While Danielle seemed to insist that this was merely formal socializing, Cyril perceived it as a somewhat inappropriate form of hospitality.

Still, the meal was decent, and Lawrence’s wit lightened the mood considerably. As Cyril ate food that tasted as familiar as if it had come from his own home, he learned that Felix Ingram, the heir to the Ingram family, had recently returned to his estate after pausing his studies at the Mage Tower.

“I didn’t expect to return in less than three months. While I don’t plan to resume my degree program just yet, the Mage Tower has kindly allowed me to continue studying in my spare time.”

The slightly intimidating first impression Felix gave was typical of most mages. However, at twenty-seven, Felix turned out to be unexpectedly affable. As he exchanged lighthearted jokes about their father, Director Ingram, with Lawrence, his younger sister, Annemarie Ingram, was chattering away between Danielle and Katarin. The topic of conversation? The kind of trivial gossip common among young women in high society.

“…So, there’s a rumor that the ghost of Countess Lovron, who was executed during the late-late-late Emperor’s reign, haunts that place.”

“Oh, I’ve only heard the story about the late-late-late Emperor himself appearing there after being beheaded for treason.”

“Is there no rumor that the Countess’s lover was actually the Emperor?”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t heard such tales. But…”

When Katarin added something in response to Annemarie’s question, Danielle clapped her hands together and laughed brightly. Laughed brightly? Cyril realized it was the first time he had seen Danielle so openly cater to a woman’s mood. The Danielle he knew had always been the idol of women in the capital… Come to think of it, he was like a knight in their eyes. As for the real knight, Sir Cyril, he found himself sipping water in frustration, his mouth bitter for no apparent reason.

The topic of the social music gathering came up alongside Cyril’s pastries during the meal. The event, which involved inviting a renowned musician and having cultured participants share the stage, was universally well-received. However, Cyril had no say in determining who would attend or how.

Danielle insisted that it was her duty to ensure the children of the new Director were smoothly introduced to social activities. Cyril couldn’t help but think that this was less about socializing and more about inappropriate overtime work… Nonetheless, he agreed up to that point. After all, if he were a member of the Knights, such duties would be gladly undertaken. However, he had never heard of investigators placing such importance on these obligations.

Perhaps because of this—or despite it—he found himself irritated when Danielle suggested bringing Felix Ingram to the gathering while passing Annemarie off to him.

‘I could escort such esteemed guests myself, couldn’t I? Right?’

Danielle said this while taking a madeleine from the bag Cyril had brought and biting into it. It wasn’t a plea for understanding, but a statement: ‘Right?’ Cyril, feeling uneasy, nodded reluctantly instead of responding. Danielle didn’t bat an eye.

Caught in the inexplicable tension between the betrothed, the Ingram siblings smiled awkwardly on either side of her. Annemarie, who seemed more sociable than her brother, took the initiative, smiling brightly as she extended her hand.

“Well then, I’ll be in your care, Sir Cyril. Your reputation as the finest gentleman in the capital precedes you, even in provincial social circles. Borrowing someone like you from Miss Odillon leaves me worried about my inadequacies.”

“…Not at all. The honor is mine, Miss Ingram.”

The finest gentleman in the capital? Cyril shook Annemarie’s hand, feeling utterly insignificant. She blinked her green eyes and smiled gracefully. Cyril found himself staring blankly into those eyes.

Ah.

A noblewoman with black hair and green eyes. Someone under the orders of high-ranking nobles. Connected to the Mage Tower. Newly arrived in the capital amidst strange incidents.

“Sir Cyril?”

The tea was cooling. Before the silence stretched too long, Annemarie smiled again. Cyril quickly examined her once more.

Though not as tall as Danielle or Sophie, she was relatively tall. Her expression was gentle, but her skin was more sun-kissed than even Danielle’s, who worked as an investigator. People from the southern regions were known for their agility, and both noble and commoner girls alike were often taught how to handle weapons. 

Could it be? Could it possibly be…?

In that moment, Cyril momentarily forgot his resentment toward Danielle.

Seizing the sudden opportunity, Cyril bowed politely. Danielle’s expression, seated beside the young lady, became peculiar. He avoided her gaze and turned back to Annemarie. The prickling sensation in Cyril’s chest mingled with his newfound discovery, leaving him with a complex mix of emotions.

“Danielle and I will take full responsibility for escorting you both. Your life in the capital will be comfortable, I assure you. From now on, always.”