Chapter 140
Chapter 140
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 140
Chapter Title: The Maze Trap
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It was one of those days with unusually fine weather. The garden, bathed in brilliant sunlight, featured a sprawling maze of shrubs grown taller than a person's height.
On one side stood a domed glass greenhouse, while on the other, a fountain adorned with a statue of a praying angel sprayed water that reflected the light in dazzling arcs.
Sculptures and artworks placed here and there filled out the splendor framed by the greenhouse and fountain without excess, drawing admiration from all who beheld it.
Yet the garden's owner, the Twelfth Prince Shahard, sat with deep dark circles under his eyes, incessantly gnawing at his thumbnail and rolling his eyeballs.
"How's the security?"
"It's airtight."
His entire life had become twisted at some point, though he didn't know when or by whom.
Shahard had been robbed of his very self, left in the ruins of utter destruction.
He recalled his past, scrambling desperately to scrape together even a handful of light by pretending to live a foolish, lowly existence.
Someone had compared life to an egg. He'd thought that breaking through the shell, that wall surrounding him, would shatter the narrow world and let him open his eyes to a new one.
But what had confined him wasn't a shell that would let him be reborn—it was a prison someone had clamped over him. He'd toiled to break out, cracking his beak and claws in ignorance, while his captor must have laughed at him.
So it didn't matter if the opponent was a devil.
Overwhelming stress sent pain radiating through his heart, and as Shahard gasped for breath, his aide familiarly handed him water and medicine.
He shoved them into his mouth and drank the water with trembling hands, then wiped his lips with his sleeve. His sunken amber eyes gleamed darkly.
If he had the qualifications, no matter what he had to do. No matter the price.
"How's the maze center set up?"
"No one will get anywhere near it by chance."
A space with no paths. A space sealed by magical barriers.
Preparations were complete. Now it was time to weigh the rest of his life as payment.
"Send out the invitations."
"Without restrictions?"
As the heart pain subsided, a headache seemed to set in, and Shahard grimaced at one eye before slowly opening his mouth.
"The list we secured from the last wine tasting. Send them to those people."
It felt like an ice pick stabbing into his brain. Each droplet from the fountain, scattering the light, pierced him like thorns in his eyes, but Shahard laughed.
* * *
"Oh, come on. Ha. Really."
I let out a hollow laugh.
"I heard tomorrow night is the nighttime garden party, young master."
"I know."
This was just ridiculous.
According to the info I'd heard, invitations had gone out to everyone who attended that wine tasting.
So why me?
Why only me?
If they were going to exclude people, why not a few more? It felt like they'd decided that of all those attendees, the scoundrel Adelrian was absolutely the last one.
I didn't hide my irritation, shaking my leg and grinding my teeth.
Adelrian exclusion? That made no sense.
On top of that, Kane still hadn't returned, grating on my nerves.
Just in case, I'd sent Zero—a guy who could probably survive even death—to scout the outskirts of the capital, but he hadn't detected Kane's mana at all. Either he'd gone much farther, or something else was at play.
'No way the protagonist...'
He probably hadn't run into anything too distressing to recall.
Before my thoughts spiraled, a floating sensation eroded my anxiety first, dulling it.
This was the world Kane had protected at great cost, after all. If it had any shame, it wouldn't turn him into some random flatfish out of nowhere.
Even if this place was a perfect reality with no protagonist perks—no protections like I imagined—and he could meet a truly pathetic end despite seeming like the lead.
'It’s Kane.'
Because it was Kane.
I stopped dwelling on the fading anxiety and opened my mouth with a promptly bored expression.
"Could we sneak into the prince's private mansion without an invitation and reach the center of the maze garden undetected?"
An invitation was a key. A place where imperial blood and noble lineages gathered—who knew if terrorists might strike.
It was a key that let you pierce countless wards and shield spells with head held high.
The difference between entering first and then heading into the maze versus sneaking in from outside was night and day.
"To be honest, I could manage alone, but with you, Lord Adelrian, it's tough. If Senior Kane were here, maybe... I'm sorry."
At my question, Zero lowered his eyes slightly. Luna and Leaf petted the now-wrinkled-looking big dog of a man from both sides as he sat in his chair, cooing at how cute he was.
Well, even with Zero's mana delay trait, its rank wasn't top-tier, and its function—adapting to, reversing, or nullifying magical phenomena to some extent—had limits.
Sneaking in without a trace while carrying me would be hard.
Kane, with his perfect trait combining mana mastery and dispel prowess, could've handled me no problem.
"Then we'll have to get an invitation after all."
"Yes. Once inside the mansion, I should be able to help you, Lord Adelrian."
"Luna and I will keep looking into Kane."
I nodded once, then turned to Rachel, who sat with her lips pursed, looking sullen for some reason.
"Why the long face?"
"I have to stay home bored again."
Her fist itched, huh? That explained the grumpy look. Our brainless Rachel.
I thought about dispatching her to Paiyan's organization soon as I opened my mouth.
"Aren't you worried about Kane?"
"Why worry about him? Do you? What a random thing to fret over."
At my probing question, Rachel's eyes widened in return. Yeah, no one voiced worries about Kane outright.
"If he were in real danger, he'd have contacted you somehow."
"He took the siren with him," Rachel said, stretching as Luna chimed in.
"I and Kane both trust you, young master, so it must be fine. No contact means..."
"He still has his pride to uphold," Rachel finished.
―I concur with Rachel's analysis to an extent, Administrator.
My image needed work, but Kane's needed a full rebuild too, didn't it?
I pondered seriously, only to circle back to square one.
"We need that invitation."
With the garden party tomorrow night at Shahard's, I felt real urgency.
If I'd known sooner, I'd have gotten one through Paiyan.
But Paiyan was dispatched inside the academy right now, not out, so tomorrow night was pushing it.
'Well, no choice. That's what connections are for.'
I leaned back leisurely, pulling a mass-produced siren for external use from my subspace.
"Hey, Bervert."
Busy?
* * *
Even for a top-moneyed house on the continent, could they really develop something like this?
I'd looked into it late, wondering if they'd partnered big with the Mage Tower or Alchemy Tower—nope.
Bervert chewed his lower lip.
His plan to hire people to threaten himself, drawing Adelrian's aid, had terrible timing for some reason.
Adelrian's uncanny escapes had already derailed several schemes, wearing down his patience.
The Church had made a huge deal internally just from learning about the siren Adelrian gave him, fueling his rage even more.
'If that scoundrel hadn't meddled, I might've snagged Gadia and this too.'
No—probably even more likely. If he'd just swayed Gadia right, he could've booted that Adelrian who'd brought the siren to the capital.
With imperial family rights not fully settled in the capital, it was hard to acquire even now.
Bervert kept squishing the soft siren, lips pursed, when it suddenly quivered and let out a plaintive whine.
Startled, Bervert juggled the slime in the air like a circus act, then saw symbols appear on its forehead.
He'd used it a few times, but this communication artifact always tensed him up.
Bervert cleared his throat and gripped the slime.
[Hey, Bervert.]
"Ah, hello."
Gently, gently. Like an innocent lamb who knew nothing.
Unlike his slightly furrowed eyes, his voice flowed smoothly.
Their chats had continued sporadically since that day. Bervert clicked his tongue inwardly.
Judging purely by siren talks, Adelrian seemed perfectly normal.
No—better than that, actually decent.
Occasionally humorous, knowledgeable enough (depth unknown), even remembering and circling back on casual remarks Bervert had dropped, with real wit.
If he hadn't known beforehand what a scoundrel he was—and if Bervert had been an ordinary girl—he might've fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
Especially with that decent face.
"Oh... so Young Lord Adelrian can't make it to tomorrow's party?"
[Yeah. Kinda disappointing. A place like that, I could've... Ahem, never mind.]
Bervert sprawled on his bed, half-listening, but perked up at the oddly trailing words.
'I could've to you, I could've to you?'
Was this it? Finally time to reel him in?
A scoundrel like Adelrian—where else could he find someone as perfect as him, who saw past the scoundrel act?
So of course he'd play the good guy desperately in front of him.
Bervert smirked sourly. The idiot was hooked on him for sure.
Time to devote him—bones and all—to the Church and himself.
His money, his beautiful collections too.
After enduring revulsion to play the pure maiden, the payoff was near. Bervert's lips curved wide.
"...Without Young Lord Adelrian, tomorrow's garden party won't be as exciting."
[Still, it's hosted by the Twelfth Prince himself, so just attending helps.]
Shahard's parties were always popular, but tomorrow featured the grand debut of the renovated garden after major works—making every invitation gold.
'If I can get my hands on those people he keeps around...'
Bervert's mind whirred, calculations complete. He hesitated slightly before speaking.
"...If it's not too rude... could I send you an invitation, young lord?"
[You? Isn't that pushing it?]
"If I look around, someone might transfer one or two, so just checking—no big deal."
Of course, something unavoidable would happen. A sudden broken leg making movement impossible, forcing a transfer.
As long as it didn't heal perfectly in a day even with potions or clerics—simple.
[If it works out, sure, great for me.]
Adelrian sounded a bit sheepish, then seemed to pull the siren away; faint voices followed.
[Scout flower shops now! Jewelers too! Move, you idiots! Useless bunch!]
A normal person might miss it, but at that sharp, irritated whisper, Bervert twisted his lips in a sneer.
'Trash, as expected.'
[See you tomorrow then, Bervert... Got something to tell you. Got it?]
"I'm looking forward to it."
In every way.
Bervert whispered, eyes cold and sunken, lips curved in a round smile.