Masquerade (2)
Look, even if I do know what I'm doing.
Trays, glasses, instruments, even the masks themselves. Dozens of magical artifacts sitting right in front of her made her mind go momentarily blank.
I'm probably not going to cause any real disaster, but.
Whether a malfunction stayed a mere glitch or escalated into a full-blown explosion depended entirely on how complex the artifact was. She couldn't always draw the line perfectly herself, but anything with a complicated structure — a microwave or a kiosk with multiple functions — was guaranteed to blow. Relatively simple artifacts just broke down.
Things at this level wouldn't go so far as to explode.
Even so, experience had taught her enough that she instinctively shut the door.
Maybe I'll have a look around.
It felt awkward to walk straight back into the party hall, so for the moment she called to mind the mansion floor plan she'd pried out of Lycaon, then turned on her heel and went prowling through the mansion's interior.
"Shall I show you to the main hall?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
"Ah, Miss, perhaps you'd care to have a conversation with me—"
"No."
She did cross paths with other animal masks as she wandered the corridors, but she fobbed them off with the excuse that she simply wanted a quiet look around the house.
Nobody tried to stop her. They carried themselves with the brazen confidence of people who had absolutely nothing to hide.
Well, I doubt they'd pull anything out in the open.
Truthfully, she wasn't the least bit curious about how the human trafficking actually worked.
Let's check the places he mentioned.
She also paid a visit to the spots Lycaon had been chattering about the whole time she'd been studying the floor plan. His carefully noted secret spots — a corner of the garden, a locked room, a concealed study, places like that.
"What trash."
Every single location Lycaon had mentioned had a camera-type magical device installed.
What on earth is the point of telling me about your own hidden cameras?
Yeah, I have no idea, but it can't possibly be for anything good. Let's replace every one of Lycaon's teeth with implants while we're at it.
Anyway. These spots needed to be usable.
It would be a problem if they recorded footage like this.
Pop—
So she went around diligently stroking everything in sight. The artifacts her hand touched spewed black smoke and met their end.
Time to head back, I suppose.
When she finally finished her tour and stepped into the party hall, she drew less attention than she had when she'd first opened the doors.
Of course, less didn't mean none.
"Could it be you hail from the North, by any chance?"
"Please maintain a little more social distance."
The rat mask on her right shoved its head in without warning, so she immediately retreated a full five paces.
"F-forgive me. It's just that I'm from the North as well, so I was delighted to—"
"You're not."
"Ah — you're not. Haha."
Where had this sudden business about the North even come from? When she shook her head, the rat mask withdrew in a half-crouched scramble.
"Do you, perhaps, enjoy card games?"
"Not in the slightest."
Now a pig mask was closing in from the left.
"I'm planning to start a business with this, you see, and I hoped to ask for your counsel—"
"Don't."
"I... see."
What did his card games or his business ventures have to do with her?
"Um, pardon me—"
"Ugh."
Now a bear mask that had crept up behind her spoke.
"Miss, does your f... does your father know that you are here?"
Why would he ask that? She considered for a moment, then answered without much thought.
"Who knows."
Ordinarily, something that had climbed high enough to reach a minister's ears meant the situation had already become seriously troublesome.
"I pray he never finds out."
"...Understood."
The man who'd nodded slipped away without a sound. And even after that—
"There's a cosmetic line I'd simply love to introduce to you—"
"What might your hobbies be, if I may ask...?"
"I have a matter of grave importance to discuss—"
Faced with the endless onslaught of animal masks, one corner of her mouth began to twitch.
To anyone watching, she looked every inch the youngest daughter of Grand Duke Lowell.
Her attire, her composure in cutting off the nobles' barrage of questions without a hint of fluster, even her faint streak of eccentricity — every aspect of her bearing was undermining the very point of wearing a mask.
Why would the Grand Duke's treasured daughter come to a place like this?
Could that young lady be a buyer?
I heard this was the Green Serpent's rendezvous — is she that bastard's lover?
Come off it. No way the Grand Duke's daughter would date that sleazeball... though, could she?
A woman who, merely by standing against the wall, had become the natural center of the party. Siwoo observed the "White Fox" with even greater care.
I still can't be certain it's Charlotte.
If it were Charlotte —
She could plausibly attend a party out of sheer curiosity. But she would never expose herself so openly. If anything, she would have concealed her identity thoroughly precisely so she could move freely.
It felt almost as if the woman were deliberately steering everyone toward mistaking her for Charlotte.
An impersonator, then?
Someone who'd studied the guest list and come all this way to brazenly play the part of Charlotte. As bold an impostor as that. But something about that conclusion didn't quite sit right.
A cobalt blue that stirred some strange sense of déjà vu.
Just as Siwoo's deliberation was deepening by the moment, the "White Fox" abruptly turned her head toward him.
She looked at Siwoo and tilted her head slowly to one side. Then, after a moment, she gave a small nod.
A signal?
"Excuse me — there's someone I'd like to speak with."
The "White Fox" shook off the people around her and headed for the terrace. Every masked gaze in the room swung to Siwoo.
Crushed under the weight of that sudden attention, Siwoo affected a cough and made his way to the terrace.
The moment he stepped out, the "White Fox," already waiting there, opened her mouth.
"You looked as though you had something you wanted to say to me."
First, I should—
Siwoo stood before the "White Fox," weighing his opening line, and closed his eyes briefly before opening them again.
He strode forward in long steps and planted himself in front of her.
Verification comes first.
Siwoo reached his hand toward the "White Fox" and chanted under his breath.
⟨ Status Window ⟩
God, I'd really like a break.
At this rate, she'd spend the entire day surrounded by animal masks, fielding nothing but questions.
She was hunting for someone suitably useful to exploit when she suddenly locked eyes with a raccoon mask that had been glaring at her with singular intensity.
Perfect. That one would make a fine pretext.
She held the raccoon mask's gaze a little longer, making sure every mask in the vicinity noticed, then favored it with a grand, deliberate nod before heading for the terrace.
Well, that should've gotten the message across.
I have something to discuss with that one, just the two of us, so don't anyone dare follow. Sure enough, the raccoon mask soon trailed after her, exactly as intended.
"You looked as though you had something you wanted to say to me."
In answer to her question, the raccoon mask gave no reply and simply thrust its hand straight at her head.
Whoa. Do I need to subdue this guy?
Her nerves snapped taut at the raccoon mask's sudden move.
All she'd wanted was to grab some random person and rest out on the terrace for a bit. Should she have picked someone who looked a little more meek?
Detonation was out of the question — the blast would carry all the way into the party hall. Security would tighten up, or the party might be called off altogether. And then the whole painstaking operation would collapse.
Well, whatever. Nothing to be done about it.
I did my best. So the instant it touches me, it goes boom.
She, too, was just raising her hand when—
[Unintelligible incantation — unknown language]
"?"
The raccoon mask's hand stopped mere inches short of her head.
"What the...?"
"What is it?"
She studied his reaction for a moment. Through the eyeholes of the mask, the raccoon's eyes were unmistakably shaken.
"The target... does not exist...?"
"?"
Her head tilted slightly.
So he'd cast some kind of magic on her. Well, magic she could deal with — no idea what its effect was supposed to be, though.
Something like brainwashing?
She waited for him to finish the sentence, and the raccoon mask awkwardly waved his hand off, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.
"My apologies for the suddenness. This is, ah, a spell of sorts for identifying a person I happen to be searching for."
"Is that so."
"It's just that you, er, resemble an acquaintance of mine rather closely."
"I see."
Fine, she'd let it go at that.
This is a human trafficking den, after all.
So maybe he was something like a wizard setting out to find family he'd lost in childhood. Whatever his circumstances were, they were none of her business.
"So, are you leaving now, then?"
"...I beg your pardon?"
"I said, you've confirmed I'm not your acquaintance — so aren't you leaving?"
She cast a sidelong glance through the terrace.
The thick curtains made it hard to see, but yes — if she simply walked back in like this, she'd inevitably get swarmed again.
"Th-that would be the thing to do, wouldn't it?"
"Stay a while."
The raccoon mask's body stiffened awkwardly the moment she seized his arm.
"I came out here to rest, you see."
"...Is that so?"
"It is."
She released his arm and leaned lightly against the terrace railing. Beyond the garden, the sky was black.
"So — what do you do for a living?"
"......"
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
It wasn't as though she truly cared.
Whatever this acquaintance was, it would be over come nightfall. Still, hauling the man all the way out here and then leaving him standing in silence felt a touch rude.
"I'm, — faculty. Academy staff."
"A professor, then?"
"...Something like that."
Oh — please don't let it be Eretz Academy.
"May I ask where?"
"Eretz."
"Oh dear."
Of all places, it had to be Eretz.
Well, I suppose I can throw in some advice.
"Consider it a rare twist of fate — I'll tell you something useful."
She rapped her index finger twice against her broken fox mask.
"Be careful your mask doesn't come off."
"Sorry?"
"Sooner or later, it will."
After all, running face-first into a coworker in a place like this would be more than a little awkward.
After that they traded small talk — whether faculty life was treating him well, how much there was to complain about in the student cafeteria menu — until the clouds drifted apart and moonlight briefly broke through.
"I do hope you manage to find your acquaintance."
The white fox smiled. Though the mask surely hid it, somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that it did.
Knock knock.
The sound of knocking broke the languid air.
"Who is it?"
"We hoped that, at your leisure, you might now honor our side with a conversation as well."
A crocodile mask was rudely pushing its way onto the terrace.
"I am the host of this evening's festivities — 'Count Crocodile,' at your service."
Siwoo remembered. The "amphibians and reptiles" here were the party's officials.
"Are you enjoying the party?"
"Well, it hasn't been bad."
"How very good to hear."
The host of the party. And this woman, the one the hosts themselves had come seeking—
"Well then, I'd say the real pleasure begins from here."
As the fox turned her body, for the briefest instant her breastbone was laid bare to Siwoo's eyes.
Caught in the parted gap of her gown — the center of her chest.
A long, vertical scar.
A surgical scar.
Alpinia?
Siwoo's eyes went wide.