14.
Four days had passed since I last saw Connie.
That was enough time for the gossip—which had briefly stifled under the weight of Count Renkels’ name—to flare back into a bonfire.
“So shameless. If it were me, I would have handed in my resignation and crawled back to my hometown ages ago.”
“Exactly. I don’t know how she has the audacity to show her face here every single day.”
*If they think I’m the only one they can target, they must believe I have no teeth to bite back.*
“Hey, just because she was close to Connie doesn’t mean she committed a crime with her.”
Even that attempt at a defense only served to cement Connie’s status as a criminal.
*If one uses the teleportation circle from the capital, isn’t Duke Camelot’s estate a week’s round trip?*
I felt the verdict was due any moment now. I forced myself to hold on, just a little longer.
*A week, at most.*
I bit my lower lip, my hands balled into white-knuckled fists.
I could forgive those swept up in public opinion out of pure ignorance. But the ones leading the rumor mill, dripping with a malice that seemed to have been waiting for this exact moment? I had no intention of letting them go.
*Especially you three, you gossiping magpies.*
The moment this is all over, I’m putting on brass knuckles and letting my fists do the talking.
*If your front teeth disappear, perhaps you’ll learn to watch your mouths on your own.*
I sharpened the blade of revenge in my heart. Very, very sharply.
Fortunately, the wait was short.
A week later, rumors rippled through the halls: a large number of nobles under Duke Camelot had been hauled away.
The next day, Connie was released.
She returned to a chorus of hollow comfort, praised for having suffered through a “false charge.” As the truth trickled out, whispers leaked that Connie’s detention had merely been a smokescreen by those higher up.
As soon as that news hit, those three magpies would turn tail and vanish the moment they caught my eye. Even the sycophants who had been clinging to Donovan were now fawning over me, as if Connie and I were the new ropes to hold onto.
*Donovan was practically traded to the gallows in exchange for the innocent Connie.*
Since Donovan was a small fry, he was merely rotting in the Imperial Palace’s temporary detention center. But if Duke Camelot were found guilty, his lackey’s lackey would be finished.
*It won’t be a vacation-like stint for him, as it was for Connie.*
Let him enjoy the present while it lasts. After the trial, he’d likely be sent to a mine for forced labor.
*The probability of the Duke being found guilty is near one hundred percent. The only question is which labor camp he’ll be assigned to.*
While the Emperor was busy rounding up the lowest-ranking subordinates, it seemed the Duke had tried to save himself by cutting off his own tail. Still, he could not avoid the blade entirely.
*He’s already preparing to confess to minimize his sentence.*
Word was that he would soon be stripped of several profitable estates under the guise of confiscating criminal proceeds, and he’d have to pay a fine heavy enough to bring his house to its knees. Tax evasion, bribery, and the creation of slush funds were all so intricately linked that Duke Camelot’s influence had been halved in an instant.
*The Duke should be grateful he’s keeping his head.*
The Emperor’s purge didn’t end there. Rumors circulated as fact that he had summoned the Duke to the grand conference hall to execute him personally, only to be stopped by pro-Emperor nobles citing the house’s past merits.
It meant that one of only three dukes in the Empire had nearly lost his life without even a trial. Because of that, the entire Imperial Palace—not just the Ministry Of Finance, where a high-ranking manager had already been sacked—was like walking on thin ice.
*I’m finally realizing just how cruel the Emperor’s hands can be.*
They said the Emperor was reliable if you were on his side, but bone-chilling if you stood against him. They were right.
*And right now, I’d say I’m comfortably on his side.*
Thanks to that, only Connie and I walked with our heads held high.
“Long live His Imperial Majesty.”
Connie opened the money pouch she had received as compensation for her detention for the one-hundred-and-twenty-first time, singing the Emperor’s praises.
“Are you really that happy?”
“Yes. I could look at it forever.”
Connie shook the pouch, closing her eyes to savor the rhythmic, metallic clinking. She claimed it was the best thing for her mental stability.
*Is this gold coin therapy?*
I chuckled to myself. Her exaggerated display was half a tactic to flaunt her fortune to those who had insulted her.
*Though, half of it is clearly because she’s genuinely thrilled.*
Now, even those who used to look down on her for being an orphan were scrambling to get on her good side.
*Borrowing another’s authority is truly the best.*
I hadn’t enjoyed coming to work this much in a long time. I looked at Connie, my eyes curving into crescents. She shook the pouch until her arm grew stiff, then sat down as if a thought had just struck her.
“Oh, right. Ri-Na, what are you doing during the Foundation Festival?”
“Is it already time for that?”
Time had been flowing too quickly lately.
“They say this festival will be huge because it’s the first since His Majesty returned.”
Connie, ever the social butterfly, rattled off the schedule.
“They’re handing out food in the slums, and there’s a prayer service at the temple. Plus, fireworks and a masquerade ball. Especially the fireworks—the best in thirty years! There’s a superstition that if you watch them with someone you met at the masquerade, you’ll find true love. That’s why nobles are flooding in from the provinces.”
In this era, magic fueled the fireworks. For the last eight years, the country had been at war, and the displays were usually canceled due to a lack of mages. It seemed they were pulling out all the stops to lift the mood now that peace had arrived.
“I heard the fireworks weren’t much even during the victory celebration.”
“Right? But this time, over 300 mages are mobilized!”
Connie clenched her fists. “We can’t miss it. Want to watch them together?”
I had been feeling a pang of regret for missing the victory celebration fireworks.
“Sounds perfect! Let’s spend the last day of the festival together.”
“Okay.”
Connie and I whispered our plans while indulging in some “tax-lupin”—slacking off. Once we had finalized the logistics of playing, eating, and drinking, Connie hurried off to finish her work.
“I’m going to work hard from now on. Don’t stop me.”
I waved her off. Like her, I had to work without pause if I wanted to fully enjoy my holiday. The Ministry Of Finance was always swamped when large budgets were involved.
*If I hurry, I might be able to avoid coming in for two of the three festival days, right?*
The desire to play is what pushes humans to challenge their limits. But as I buried myself in paperwork, the festival began, and my optimistic plan crumbled; I was still commuting on the second day.
*I’ll finish everything by today.*
The only silver lining was that if I slogged through today, I wouldn’t have to return tomorrow. Immersed in work until evening, I headed out to the small garden behind the building with a cup of strongly brewed tea to chase away the drowsiness.
It was the second day of the festival, the night of the masquerade ball that most of the capital’s nobility attended. The Outer Palace felt abandoned and dark, making the lights of the distant detached palace shine with unusual clarity.
*It was at a festival masquerade ball just like this one that the Emperor and the Saintess met.*
I paced the path between the trees, my tea long since drained.
*Should I go inside for a refill?*
“Ms. Diaz.”
A black figure stepped out from the shadows of the trees. He was dressed in clothes so dark it was hard to tell if he was even human.
*What? An intruder?*
I recoiled, my pulse spiking at the sight of the white mask covering his face. My legs turned to lead; I couldn’t move.
“Wait.”
The intruder moved faster as I retreated.
*Is this how I die? As an extra who gets murdered after stumbling upon an assassin in the Imperial Palace?*
He reached out. Just as I opened my mouth to scream for the guards, a hand clamped over my lips.
“Shh, it’s me. Ms. Diaz.”
The figure hesitated before adding, “Everett Rohas.”
Only then did I recognize the voice. Everett sensed my body go limp in relief and slowly pulled his hand away.
With tears pricking my eyes, I scolded him in a sharp whisper.
“You scared me.”
“Sorry.”
“Forget it!”
I snapped, wiping away the tears that had welled up for no reason. Everett winced.
“I didn’t know you’d be so startled.”
He reached up to scratch his head, his fingers catching on the mask. “Ah. Is it this?”
Everett pulled off the white mask, revealing his face, and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. At that moment, the wind swept the thick clouds away from the moon.
The pale light poured down, washing over him like a spotlight.
“Is this better now?”