The Social Gathering (3)
The sharp click of heels echoed through the room. Emilia had been pacing back and forth anxiously for some time now.
It was all because of the ciphertext she had just decoded—a secret message consisting of seven words.
Schluss. Agent personal information seized. Danger. Flee.
Agent clearly referred to Intelligence Bureau operatives. It meant Schluss had obtained documents containing the personal details of Bureau agents.
She couldn’t understand the circumstances that had led to this, but if it was true—
“We’re fucked.”
Completely and utterly fucked.
The agents’ personal files would obviously include her own. Schluss would have no trouble seeing through her identity. The Bureau must have issued the evacuation order after weighing that exact risk.
But there was one problem. The ciphertext had arrived yesterday. She had been so busy lately that she only managed to decode it after a full day had passed.
“Then doesn’t that mean I’ve already been exposed…?”
More than a day had gone by since Schluss seized the documents. The odds were high that she had already been found out.
Yet Schluss had shown no sign of noticing, let alone any intention of throwing her out.
There was only one explanation.
He was pretending not to know.
“But why?”
No answer came to mind. What possible reason could there be to stay silent after discovering that the maid living under his roof was an enemy spy?
“I have no idea why, but…”
Emilia picked up the ciphertext as though she had reached a decision. With a snap of her fingers, the paper burst into flames and vanished without a trace.
“I can’t run away.”
She had made up her mind. If Schluss had no intention of casting her out, she had no intention of walking away on her own. If he was going to pretend ignorance, she would simply pretend she hadn’t noticed either.
Let’s see who lasts longer.
Only now did Emilia realize that their uncomfortable cohabitation had truly begun.
Click. Click. Click…
The clear, resonant sound of heels rang through the assembly hall. The nobles, who had been chatting noisily, all turned their eyes toward the entrance at once.
Schluss Heinkel.
The uninvited guest—a commoner—had arrived.
“Organizer! What is the meaning of this? How can a commoner—”
“He was invited by the Flechettes.”
“……”
The staff member’s quiet reply froze the nobles in place. Flechette. Since one of the three great families had formally extended the invitation, no one could raise an objection. The only ones who could possibly protest were the other two great families—Wittgenstein and Lichtenburg.
Wittgenstein… for some reason was absent.
That left only Lichtenburg.
The nobles turned expectant gazes toward Countess Irene von der Lichtenburg.
“Countess Representative of Lichtenburg. A commoner has entered the hall… haha…”
“Is there some problem? The Saintess herself personally invited him.”
“Ah…”
Countess Irene replied with biting sarcasm as she stared straight ahead—toward the place where the Flechette Saintess, Iris, sat with elegant poise. Iris answered with an eye smile so artificial it bordered on theatrical.
That woman really gets on my nerves no matter what…
Truly, she could never understand what thoughts ran through that saintess’s head. When she went out to heal the sick she seemed like a genuinely benevolent saint, yet at official functions she resembled a black-hearted politician. She was the very person who had restored the somewhat faltering Flechettes to their unshakable position among the three great families.
To the countess, that young girl was far more difficult to handle than even the sly elders of Flechette. Every word she spoke seemed to carry the weight of foresight…
As expected of a saintess acknowledged by the Holy See.
The countess let out a deep sigh and abruptly turned her head.
“It really has been a long time since you last appeared in public, Lady Yulia.”
“…It is. This is our first meeting. You resemble the countess representative—how truly beautiful you are.”
“Ah… yes…”
The nobles had surrounded Yulia. Because she so rarely ventured outside, her occasional appearances always caused this kind of commotion. She possessed neither remarkable talent nor succession rights. Yet even at her young age, her exquisite beauty was more than enough to capture their interest. Marriage proposals arrived regularly from dukes and counts alike.
The countess had considered sending her off to marry before her illness worsened, but Yulia had firmly rejected every offer. Having given birth to a frail child and feeling she had never cared for her as well as she had for Erika, the countess always carried a burden of guilt and could not bring herself to force the issue.
“Yulia seems quite flustered.”
“Haha. Oh dear. Our apologies. We’ll take our leave now.”
As the nobles withdrew, Countess Irene took her daughter’s hand. It was so small it was hard to believe it belonged to an eleven-year-old.
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Mm. No, Mother is the one who’s grateful that Yulia came out like this.”
Yulia normally refused to leave the house unless the event was absolutely necessary, acting as though she did not exist. The countess harbored a faint hope that today might mark the beginning of her daughter venturing out more often, but it was futile.
Yulia had come today for one reason only—to meet a single person.
The very person the countess despised more than anyone.
“Ah…”
That person was walking straight toward them, brushing aside nobles who tried to speak with him.
The countess’s expression crumpled in an instant.
“Head maid.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Take Yulia to one of the side rooms. She seems dizzy.”
“Mother. I’m fine—”
“Quickly.”
The maid wheeled the chair away and vanished from the hall in moments. As the man who was practically the true protagonist of this gathering—Schluss Heinkel—drew near, the countess could only sigh deeply.
She had sent the strongest Crow, yet somehow he had returned alive. It was infuriating, but that was all. What could a mere commoner possibly do to her? If he made a noisy complaint, she would simply remind him of the difference in status and send him packing.
With that thought, Countess Irene lifted her gaze.
“You look healthy, Countess. I’m glad to see it.”
“…?”
Schluss greeted her with a bright smile. At that moment, the countess felt a prickling sense of unease. A thin recognition-inhibiting barrier had been deployed around them. This man’s doing, no doubt.
“I have nothing to discuss with you. Therefore…”
“Countess. Turn around. You’ll regret it.”
“……”
The instant she turned her back, Schluss’s low voice reached her. How typical of an uneducated commoner—speaking so rudely in casual tone. And he called that a threat?
If Schluss wished, he could snap her neck and kill her. But she felt no fear. If he could do it, let him try.
“Go ahead and make me regret it, then.”
“What a shame. Your daughter really is quite lovely.”
“…!”
The countess whirled around. She knew full well she was falling for his provocation, yet she had no choice. If she ignored him and walked away now, it felt as though he truly would harm her daughter. Because he was a commoner with nothing to lose, it seemed entirely possible. She did not care if he harmed her, but the moment he mentioned her daughter she could not disregard it.
“…What do you want?”
“Want? I want nothing. I came only to deliver a warning.”
“A warning…”
“Countess. Listen carefully. I will not repeat myself.”
“……”
Schluss picked up a champagne flute from the table and smiled brightly. From outside the barrier it would look like nothing more than a friendly conversation.
Countess Irene tried not to show her tension as she accepted the glass he offered.
“I don’t mind that you tried to kill me. In fact, I’d prefer you keep trying. Thanks to you, I even had the chance to meet His Majesty the Emperor.”
“……”
“But I cannot tolerate it when the people around me are placed in danger. No one was hurt this time, but if even one person had died, one of your pretty daughters would have had to repay that life.”
“Stop rudely mentioning someone else’s daughter.”
Unable to contain her anger for a moment, the countess answered with a slight tremble of her shoulders. With her daughter’s life now held as collateral, the match was already decided, yet she could not reveal that. She needed to pretend she was not being blackmailed. She still had to act as though the upper hand remained hers.
“Ha. Rudeness?”
When Schluss grinned, a chill ran down her spine.
“You speak of manners. Very well. To your eyes, commoners must appear incredibly rude. But from where we stand, the ones who truly lack manners are you nobles.”
“What do you—”
“Among commoners, anyone who commits a crime and continues to act rudely ends up beaten to death. But nobles? No matter how outrageously a person with power behaves, they never face the same consequences. That is why you lose even the most basic courtesy. After failing to kill someone, you forget the proper attitude you should take when standing before that person.”
“……”
The countess barely kept her expression from twisting. In a way it was a fair point, so she felt no urge to refute it. Anything she said now would only sound like the barking of a noble who lacked even basic etiquette in front of him.
“I want nothing else from you, Countess. I simply ask that you observe basic courtesy. Is that so difficult?”
Schluss spoke with a smile. At that moment the faint ripple of mana vanished. The barrier had dissolved.
Countess Irene ground her teeth and glared at him.
“Now that I think of it, I have not yet heard the countess representative’s introduction.”
“…Pardon?”
“The introduction. Please provide it.”
Schluss looked down at her with cold eyes. Though phrased as a question, it was neither question, request, nor demand. It was coercion.
From that gaze the countess instantly understood what Schluss wanted. If she performed the greeting half-heartedly and had to redo it properly, she would only suffer greater humiliation. Better to do it correctly from the start.
Biting her lip in shame, Countess Irene grasped the hem of her skirt.
“I am Irene von der Lichtenburg, serving as countess representative.”
She stepped one leg back, bent the knee of the other, and offered the curtsy a woman gave only to someone of far greater dignity—a greeting the countess performed only when meeting royalty.
As expected, silence fell over the surroundings and every eye turned their way.
Feeling her face burn, the countess returned to a proper stance.
“Hm. That seems much more appropriate now.”
“……”
Schluss finally released the laughter he had been holding back and extended his glass. With trembling hands the countess raised hers to meet it.
A clear, ringing clink echoed, and Schluss drank the champagne at leisure.
The scene looked exactly like the signing of a humiliating treaty of surrender.