Episode VI: Disappearance

"He didn't come back with Karsein?"

Isabella greeted Arina as she returned from outside, her voice thick with worry.

"He said he was making up for the training that got postponed at the training grounds."

"There's so much I need to say to him. You couldn't bring him back?"

"That seems beyond even me, Mother. Whether it's because of the trial or not, he's absolutely seething."

"...I see."

Isabella let out a long, bitter sigh.

As for the matter of not allowing Flora in, that would have to wait until Karsein's mood had settled.

When the time came, he would return on his own — until then, there was nothing to do but wait and ask.

"Speaking of which, where is Claire?"

"She's furious. She went off saying she'd push for harsher sentences for the ones who tormented Karsein."

"That's Claire for you."

"But, Arina."

Isabella called to her in a low voice.

"You too... you heard nothing at all?"

"..."

Arina fell silent.

Hearing anything was beyond her — she had struggled just to follow the contents of the trial itself.

Emma's commission to drive Karsein out of the duchy. Theo Ramstair, the man who had accepted it, and the false charges he'd pinned on him. The stabbing of Radiel in Chapelle Forest that had erupted from it all. The ban on Karsein entering the training grounds, and Emma's embezzlement. And behind all of it, Karsein's sullied reputation, dragged out as context at every turn.

Try as she might to keep up, she simply couldn't.

The existence of this massive shadow hidden beneath the silence was a shock beyond all description.

"Of course you didn't... I'm sorry for asking pointlessly."

Afterward, Isabella reached the same conclusion Arina had — they would give Karsein time.

Of course, the servants of the ducal estate will all need to be replaced.

They had a list already, but there would surely be more to find.

If they used the very method Claire had witnessed, they could weed out the servants who had taken bribes from Emma to torment Karsein.

The knights were the same.

Those who had acted with Theo Ramstair at the water station had all been arrested, but a fair number of knights still remained.

Not a single trace of Emma could be allowed to linger in the ducal house. And those good souls who had tried to clear Karsein's name would need to be singled out and rewarded.

There's so much to do, in so many ways.

Arina moved to her study, picked up her pen, and began her investigation.

With a soft scratch, Arina's pen, which had been gliding across the page, came to a stop.

Darkness had fallen at some point. The sun had fully set, and an unusually bright full moon was casting its brilliant glow.

Arina set her pen down for a moment.

"...Has this much time really passed?"

While the purge to scrub the ducal house clean had rolled on and on, she'd lost all track of the hours. Staring at the clock, she murmured:

"It should be about time to call for him."

It was well past the time Karsein would have finished making up his postponed training at the grounds.

He would have things to discuss with the family when he returned to the estate, and like Claire, she intended to press the imperial household with a formal petition to raise the sentences, digging further into the details of the case.

And above all, she had to untangle the knot between him and Flora.

Arina pushed in her chair and rose, shrugging on her coat and preparing to head out.

That was when it happened.

"Lady Arina, are you perhaps in here?"

A maid's urgent voice rang out. Opening the door revealed a new maid, visibly frantic. It was the one newly assigned to Flora.

"What is it?"

"Well, you see..."

The words that spilled from the maid's lips sent Arina rushing into motion herself.

"C-Could I help with that? I know our housekeeper better than anyone, after all."

The youngest said it with a sullen look on her face, as if she were doing him some great favor.

This, from the girl who'd been caught skimming his allowance bit by bit, and had come running to him the moment the housekeeper was found out.

Never mind that the housekeeper had only been able to pull off her thieving in the first place because of her.

"You don't want this blowing up any bigger either, do you, Kim Minhyuk? If you just let the housekeeper off easy, I won't─"

Shut your mouth, you little brat.

That was, presumably, what he'd said as he cut her off.

But that thoughtless little runt had immediately run crying to their mother about being cursed at, and the eldest — the very day his allowance was being siphoned away — had scolded him instead.

God, he hated it.

No matter what he said, that house never once listened to a word from him.

And so he'd been forced to choke down and conceal the fact that the youngest was pulling stunts like that.

Even when his body gave out and he was carried to the emergency room.

"...Ha. Fuck. What kind of shitty dream is this now?"

The curse came out the moment he opened his eyes.

Why did those godawful old memories have to surface now?

Those women, tormenting him even in his dreams — the irritation kept bubbling up.

But somehow, even after shaking off the dream, the memories kept coming.

"After that..."

The housekeeper had faced a legal trial back then. Caught in the trap he'd set, she'd been forced to cough up not just everything she'd stolen but her entire salary as well, weeping and begging that she'd done wrong.

And even that groveling hadn't been directed at him.

Just like Emma, who had never once lowered herself to Karsein, she had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knelt only before the eldest sister and the stepmother.

To round out what happened after the whole affair — the housekeeper had, it turned out, been the older sister of a student at his school, and once the story spread through the school, she and her younger sister had both left the area entirely.

His high school was an elite institution, and the students were all sons and daughters of considerable families, so news of it hadn't been hard to come by.

The younger sister had effectively been forced to transfer schools, and the housekeeper — the older one — had apparently been scrambling, hard, to find work after the trial.

Though considering the little sister had been the type to strut up to the lunch line with rollers still in her bangs and shamelessly swipe food right off his tray... well, good riddance on both counts, honestly.

On the surface, it looked like a great deal had changed. But the one who'd truly changed the most was him.

"That's when I started working part-time, isn't it."

Writing off any allowance as money he'd never see, he'd begun stuffing every last coin the housekeeper used to steal from him into a single drawer.

Only after it was taken did it truly sink in — that money from those people was never his money.

It could be used for his escape someday, yes — but his mind had hardened firmly around the resolve to push away any "help" from them as much as possible.

Even if that first job had been brutal.

Even if, because he hadn't rested properly after coming back from the emergency room, he'd slept the whole day away.

Even if he'd had no time to breathe, day or night, juggling school on top of it all.

"Come to think of it, there was that time, not long after I started the job, when I collapsed right in front of the youngest."

Yes. That moment had definitely been strange.

The look on that little brat's face had been...

Arina.

This was no longer the time to be lost in old memories.

He didn't want to open the door.

So he answered without opening it.

"What is it."

"Has Flora come by here?"

"Why would she come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here?"

Absurd. Right about now she'd probably be scampering off to Isabella, wailing about how she'd been singled out and excluded, cursing him up one side and down the other.

Arina pressed on, rejecting his sarcasm outright.

"No. Flora has carried a deep guilt toward you ever since all of that. I told you, didn't I, even after the trial ended — that the youngest kept trying desperately to help you somehow. So the prevailing theory is that she went looking for you!"

"What nonsense are you..."

In that instant, the status window forced itself open.

"You're telling me she... she really did leave the estate to come find you...?"

The window floating between Arina's worried words...

made him doubt his own eyes.

'Fuck — what? What the hell is this?!'

A string of curses burst out inside him at the familiar window.

Episode VI concludes by definitively wrapping up Emma and Theo at the trial.

In some ways it was the easiest episode for him, and across the whole game, as long as you prepared properly, there were no major variables.

A window like this was never supposed to appear!

'I definitely finished it. I definitely heard the alarm chime back then...!'

...No. Wait.

'Did I... actually confirm that?'

He hadn't.

Exhausted, he'd simply chosen to burn through the family's affinity points and hole up at the training grounds.

What if, just like with Radiel, Episode VI had never actually been declared cleared?

"If you don't know either, then... where on earth is Flora...!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

As the question of Flora's whereabouts bloomed from Arina's lips —

He realized there was no more time to be lying around sleeping.

He flung the door open.

"Tell me everything. When, where, and what Flora was doing!"

He had absolutely no idea.

This development didn't exist. He'd never seen it, never heard of it, never played through it.

But if he just stood there gaping, he would die.

As much as he couldn't stand that little brat, right now, finding her was his only option.

"Lady Harnie!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Karsein?"

"Have you by any chance seen a little blond girl who comes up to about my waist?"

"No, I haven't seen anyone like that..."

Damn it. Arina's orders had gone out across the ducal estate, and people were searching — they'd even asked him to stay a while longer while arrangements were made — but he doubted anything would be resolved within the time remaining.

The problem was that there wasn't a single clue.

The fact that not one person had laid eyes on Flora since she left the courtroom was what had him gripped by the throat.

"Oh, hold on a moment. If you mean Lady Flora... I think I might have seen her, just briefly..."

"...!"

"Where was it? I'm certain I saw her heading back from the courtroom..."

Harnie sank deep into thought.

He mustn't disturb her now. He waited, taking slow, deep breaths.

"Over there. She went down that road."

Harnie pointed in a direction with her finger.

That direction would be... the rear garden?

"To be precise, it wasn't right when we couldn't enter the courtroom. I had stepped away for a moment to look around the estate, and that's when I happened to spot her."

Which meant...

'What Harnie saw may well have been the last time anyone saw Flora.'

He had his only lead.

He immediately sprinted in that direction until his lungs burned.

Inside the rear garden. Along the flower-lined path — if there was any trace of Flora, he had to find it, whatever it was.

Where? Where was she?

Where the hell had something happened to her?!

"Wait! Let me come w-with you..."

"Harnie? Why did you follow me?"

"The moment I stepped in here, I noticed something. There's a faint scent."

"A scent?"

"I can't be certain, but this is the smell of a sedative. It's certain — the jewel on my dress is reacting to it."

"A sedative... don't tell me."

Harnie narrowed her eyes.

"Abduction. And quite possibly a very carefully planned one."

The prevailing theory was that Flora had been made to inhale a sedative by someone, collapsed, and been carried off.

Once Harnie confirmed the jewel was glowing, she explained the type of sedative.

"This sedative is typically applied to a handkerchief. Its effects are far too strong for the user to inhale it themselves, so it's designed for one-time use."

"So that means whoever did this couldn't have used it in large doses — they had no proper equipment. Is that the right way to read it?"

"Exactly. She would have struggled for at least a few seconds."

"Then there may be traces left here."

They immediately began combing the area around the rear garden with meticulous care.

And then.

They found it.

A clue left behind by the culprit.

"A scarf... that's hardly something young ladies would use."

"...No. It isn't."

He knew that as well as she did.

It wasn't a woman's — it was a man's. The kind of scarf typically worn by men who'd received it as a gift from young noblewomen.

Which meant he could narrow down the culprit.

The man hadn't been afraid.

He'd been lying in wait, biding his time for the perfect opportunity.

Swish.

'The blood... it wasn't splattered. It dripped down along his body.'

He had avoided the Brand of Perjury from the Orb of Judgment.

The transport to Tulea Mine wasn't scheduled for that day — it was the next.

Which meant the man believed he had nothing left to lose, and had set his plan in motion clinging to nothing but the hope of fulfilling one long-cherished desire.

Yes. It could be summed up in a single sentence.

The reason he had abducted Flora was —

...

...

Nothing more, nothing less — revenge. Against him.

Drip. Drip.

The sound of water. One drop at a time, falling from somewhere unseen.

Strangely, that dripping sound was so unpleasant it made her brow furrow of its own accord.

A faint metallic tang of blood crept into her nose as well, and though her eyelids felt heavy as lead, she had no choice but to force them open.

And so Flora's eyes opened.

And she — she could do nothing at all.

Both arms were bound tight to a hard wooden chair. A gag filled her mouth, and her legs, too, were firmly lashed down with rope.

Her pupils, wandering in the darkness, could only catch the approaching silhouette of a figure in the black.

A man's voice coiled around her ears, sending a chill down her spine.

"Awake at last, are we, my lady?"

"...!"

She didn't need to see to know.

She remembered, too, what had been done to her.

Theo Ramstair.

It was he — the man who had kidnapped her from the rear garden — who had spoken her name.