Sinclair didn’t answer, just smiled and looked ahead.

As the bell stopped ringing and everyone fell silent, plus with someone else sitting between them, Earl Wallace could no longer press Sinclair further.

‘What was that?’

The earl felt an ominous feeling from the smile she wore before turning her head.

It wasn’t just that he disliked the commoner woman’s seemingly mocking attitude. For a moment, what flashed in Sinclair’s eyes contained not only mockery but also faint pity.

Like that fleeting emotion one might feel toward an insect about to die…

Young priests began to enter. They came in step by step, holding small bells and ringing them rhythmically.

As the bell sounds somewhat masked the surrounding voices, the prince seated at the head position spoke to Baron Stanford sitting right beside him.

“Why are you so restless?”

“Someone I know has entered the cathedral.”

“Someone you know?”

“I shouldn’t call her a child. She’s a fine lady. I’ve known her since she was young…”

“My, you must be quite surprised.”

The prince said this and looked forward again.

“How is the situation?”

“We deliberately conducted cursory searches of suspicious individuals’ luggage. Judging by how they’re all concerned about their pockets, they seem to have hidden various things.”

At Baron Stanford’s words, the prince clicked his tongue.

“I could understand if they were Gilians, but to have Lenskians enter and disrupt our country like this.”

The prince’s muttering voice clearly revealed his displeasure.

He promptly closed his eyes and bowed his head with a stern expression.

Those watching from afar would think the prince and Baron Stanford were mourning the excellent soldier he had cherished.

***

‘That can’t be!’

The prince forced strength into his twitching lips.

He was closing his eyes and bowing his head now to hide the anger that might show itself involuntarily. And also to conceal his excitement.

He could overlook the anger, but it wasn’t appropriate to appear excited like someone expecting something at a funeral.

When the young priests began to sing, the prince raised his head.

In the distance near the altar, a black coffin decorated with flowers was visible.

People believed that Ryan Wilgrave, torn to pieces, lay inside. But the prince knew. That coffin was actually empty, filled with appropriately sized broken stones placed by the priests.

‘That this entire grand-scale funeral is all a lie.’

Who would know?

The prince recalled the day when the baron had secretly visited him recently.

At first, the prince had been elated with joy at having prevented Gilia’s surprise attack.

Everyone in command had embraced each other, and the prince had patted the officers’ shoulders with tears welling in his eyes.

He decided to bestow imperial honors on the soldiers returning from Gilia’s surprise attack areas. He resolved to award medals and great rewards to all soldiers who participated in the operation.

‘Including Colonel Ryan! That arrogant fellow who always refuses my rewards. This time he won’t escape my reward.’

While the prince was imagining one by one what to give Ryan, a telegram arrived not long after.

It was news that Ryan had died.

The prince immediately refused all communications and meetings, secluding himself in the palace.

It was he who had devised the plan to send Ryan to Gilia, and he who had personally obtained his consent.

Belated regret for sending him to what turned out to be a death trap overwhelmed the disaster.

While the entire palace was in gloom, Baron Stanford quietly visited him.

Though he had intended to turn him away too, he reluctantly received him because the baron said he wanted to talk about Ryan’s final situation.

After dismissing everyone else, alone with the baron in the reception room, Stanford carefully handed him a letter.

“What is this?”

“Please read it.”

“Enough. I’d rather hear about Ryan.”

“This is about Ryan, Your Highness.”

Wondering what it could be, the prince picked it up with an irritated expression.

A moment later, the prince’s eyes widened.

Baron Stanford put a finger to his lips, signaling him to be quiet.

The prince swallowed a groan and looked back and forth between the letter and the baron.

The contents of the letter were astonishing.

Ryan wasn’t dead. And he wanted a fake funeral.

He wanted as many people as possible on the funeral invitation list.

In other words, this funeral was an opportunity to gather and eliminate at once the forces trying to bring greater despair to Albion.

Afterward, they moved carefully to prepare.

First, all the key military personnel who had planned to attend this funeral until this morning were diverted elsewhere on their way.

They would join soldiers stationed throughout the capital and move together when the operation began.

Of course, some people attended despite the risk, as the enemy might become suspicious if everyone was absent.

The prince himself was the prime example of such a person.

Although Baron Stanford strongly objected to his attendance, saying it would be problematic no matter what, the prince stubbornly insisted on attending.

“Don’t underestimate me. Above all, we must round up those vermin this time! That’s most important! This is our last chance to end all wars!”

So the prince attended the funeral today.

He looked at the veiled ladies nearby.

Of course, except for a few who had to show their faces, all were female soldiers of similar build acting as stand-ins.

They deliberately chose women with permission to enter, so no one could recognize their faces from a distance.

Besides, who could easily recognize them when they pretended to suppress their sorrow and covered their faces with handkerchiefs all day?

As the young priests’ song ended, the high priest approached step by step.

The prince raised his head. At that moment, someone was hurriedly entering through the crowd from behind.

People frowned at this person disrupting the solemn atmosphere of mourning.

But he paid no attention and approached the prince. Then he handed the prince a folded piece of paper.

After receiving and briefly unfolding the paper, the prince looked up.

The prince’s gaze swept over several attendees in the distance.

They were all people who had their hands conspicuously in their pockets.

The moment one of them made eye contact with the prince.

It became something like a signal.

***

Eloise was sitting in a chair, blowing on her hands to warm them.

Seeing the young priests entering while crying, she knew the real ceremony had begun inside the cathedral.

‘They said he died in an explosion…’

The newspapers all told different stories about Ryan’s death.

Many papers said he died in an explosion, but some reported he was shot and fell, only then to be butchered by a Gilian soldier.

Other papers claimed he drowned while performing his mission.

Opinions on the cause of death varied, but one thing was consistent.

That his corpse was not in a condition to be shown to others.

Still… even a finger would have been enough.

She wanted to see something of him before everything was buried in the ground.

Her nose stung again and her throat tightened.

The ringing bells seemed to shout at her that he was being buried, distancing himself from this world.

Finally, Eloise took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

‘I should visit his grave after everyone leaves.’

With so many people waiting their turn, it might be late at night before her turn came, but whether it took a day, two days, or a month.

She thought she could wait as long as needed to say her final goodbye to him.

As Eloise was grieving, suddenly loud gunshots were heard from inside the cathedral.

Because the shots rang out amid silence, everyone could hear them.

But gunshots had no place at a funeral.

While everyone was confused, more sounds came from inside the cathedral.

Different from before, it was the sound of something heavy falling.

Someone inside the cathedral was continuously firing a gun.

“Guns! Guns!”

“Run away!”

“Protect the dignitaries!”

The area outside the cathedral instantly became chaotic with people fleeing in surprise and soldiers stationed throughout shouting.

Eloise also stood up in shock.

She picked up her bag to leave, but was knocked down by the surging crowd.

“Wait! Stop! Just go around!”

She shouted at the people trampling over her, but her cries didn’t reach those already gripped by fear.

Eloise covered her head with both arms.

People’s shoes struck her arms and legs.

As she curled up more to avoid the pain.

“Eloise!”

Someone called her name and immediately pulled her out of the crowd.

Eloise, who had been curled up, raised her head.

‘Who is it?’

The voice calling her was a very familiar one. But it was a voice that absolutely couldn’t be heard now…

Thinking she might be hearing things out of longing, she raised her head.

“Oh, d*mn! Are you alright?”

Eloise saw blue eyes looking at her.

And the next moment.

Slap!

Eloise’s hand flew mercilessly toward the other person.