Masquerade (3)
The Count walked ahead with his hands clasped behind his back.
He's advertising quite brazenly, isn't he.
Granted, the Count had listed 'Fox' on the participant roster for the publicity effect as well. He simply hadn't expected her to flaunt her identity as a noble daughter of Lowell quite this openly.
Everyone was whispering and pretending not to notice — but most of the guests had already realized that a genuine daughter of the Grand Duchy of Lowell was in attendance at the party.
More attention, then.
The daughter of a Grand Duke herself, attending their little gathering.
Ordinarily, an establishment like this would have balked at that kind of scrutiny.
But the preparations are flawless.
He had already arranged every loophole needed to ensure the party would be legally spotless. Even if an investigation descended on them this very moment, he could smooth it all over as nothing more than an ordinary invitation-only affair.
There was no chance the Lowell name would become poison here. If anything, being known as a party under the Grand Duke's protection would only fuel the publicity.
He stole a sidelong glance at the 'Fox' trailing behind him. She, too, could hardly be unaware of any of this.
Could this, perhaps, be a gesture of goodwill toward us?
At first, he couldn't read her intentions at all.
Even after the Count had approached and revealed himself as the party's host, the 'Fox' hadn't so much as flinched.
As if she had been waiting for their contact all along, she asked nothing and simply fell in step behind him.
Perhaps it's her unspoken way of saying she'll join hands with us.
The Count carefully broached the subject.
"Well, I trust you know everything worth knowing about the Green Snake's introduction."
"I do."
The Green Snake, Lycaon. Head of a violent syndicate called Sicario.
The Count had been wary of him at first too, but a brief observation of the man's conduct had erased every doubt.
An idiot who knows nothing but booze and women.
It was obvious he'd approached the girl without a single thought in his head, and simply gotten spectacularly lucky afterward.
The Count guessed that the 'Fox' had likewise been reeled in by the degenerate Lycaon without much ceremony.
Before long, the Count and the 'Fox' left the main hall and stepped into the annex.
The 'Lion' pounces on the 'Deer'.
The 'Wolf' drives the 'Buffalo herd' before it.
Predators drew their prey — one, or several at once — into their individual dens. At the firmly shut doors stood the 'Frog' and the 'Toad' on guard.
The Count stole a glance at the 'Fox's expression.
"For privacy's sake, every room is equipped with soundproofing."
"I see."
As if none of the scenery registered with her at all, the 'Fox' simply kept following at the Count's heels.
One of us, then.
Watching her detachment, the Count delayed his wariness by a step.
"There are also guests who wish to 'sample' their purchased goods on the spot, as it were."
"Indeed."
Without warning, the 'Fox's footsteps stopped. The Count checked behind him, then followed her gaze and turned his head.
Three 'Hounds' had cornered a single 'Rabbit'.
"Thomas, are you sure Eric actually brought back the real thing?"
"That's what we're about to find out, isn't it?"
"Eep—"
The Count rifled quickly through his memory.
Academy students, are they.
Sons of worthless nouveau-riche families. Still, they had enough money to warrant being handed an invitation.
Come to think of it, she's an Academy student too, isn't she.
The aura she carried made him forget it, but the 'Fox' was an Academy student as well — a first-year, freshly enrolled this very year.
"Do you, by any chance, know them?"
"No."
The 'Fox' shook her head. As if they weren't worth even the pretense of acquaintance, she stepped past without a flicker of attachment.
Different caliber entirely.
Not a moment's hesitation. He could feel the mettle befitting a daughter of the Grand Ducal house.
At last, the Count and the 'Fox' reached the end of the corridor.
"Here we are."
"Yes."
The Count pushed open the door to an opulently decorated parlor. They each settled naturally into facing sofas.
A brief silence. The Count spoke first.
"That raccoon — shall we have it packaged as merchandise for you?"
"No need."
So there's no need to process it.
At the 'Fox's refusal, the Count pressed a finger to one ear for a moment, activating his magic tool.
— Halt the packaging. Release her.
Having issued the brief order, he turned his attention back to the 'Fox'.
"First, I simply must ask — what brings Your Ladyship to grace our party with her attendance?"
At the Count's question, the 'Fox' showed a flicker of contemplation. Before long, she gave a small nod.
"I've taken a bit of an interest in your line of work."
"Oh ho."
The Count's mind raced, searching for the reason the 'Fox' would have an interest in this place.
Carlo House.
The answer wasn't far at all. It was the solution he'd had in mind from the very beginning.
The colossal casino in the North. That gambling den belonged to House Lowell.
"And we do have a few 'gifts' to pass along to that side of yours, as it happens."
"How delightful. Now I truly do look forward to it."
The 'gifts' the 'Fox' intended to hand over to the Count's side —
Debtors, surely.
The puzzle pieces clicked into place one by one in the Count's head.
As House Lowell's profits grew, so did the ranks of debtors drowning in enormous sums. Ordinarily, those who fell into debt were simply shipped off to the mana stone mines — and that was the end of it.
But.
What if those debtors were offered up as 'merchandise' at the Count's party?
Wouldn't that allow them to extract profit far more efficiently?
The Count himself, meanwhile, would no longer need to pour money into digging up the 'merchandise's' pasts. He could simply sit back and sell off the debtors the 'Fox' supplied.
Expansion of the business.
The Count's lips curled up toward his ears.
"How do you envision the specific plan proceeding?"
"Do I need to explain it?"
A trace of displeasure crossed the Fox's face. The Count hastily shook his head.
"I had no intention of causing offense. Naturally, Your Ladyship must already have every arrangement prepared."
"Yes."
The Count ran a quick mental ledger.
In the end, his side lost nothing. Since they'd boarded the same boat anyway, the 'Fox' had one foot sunk in the mire just as surely as he did.
He had only to tighten the noose slowly, exactly as he always had. The Count gave the 'Fox' a leisurely once-over and smacked his lips.
"I find myself looking forward to it already."
"So do I."
With the conversation concluded, the two of them rose from their seats.
"Well, really — with such a splendid proposal on the table, I can hardly let the occasion pass without offering a 'gift' of my own."
At the Count's double clap, a procession of guards herded a parade of assorted animal masks into the room.
"I didn't know your particular tastes, so I've prepared as wide a variety as possible to start. What do you think?"
"Hmm."
Contrary to the Count's expectations, the 'Fox's' reaction was lukewarm.
The type who sees merchandise as nothing but merchandise?
As the Count studied her, he suddenly noticed that the 'Fox's' gaze was fixed somewhere else entirely.
Among the displayed goods — perched atop one small child's shoulders sat a genuine 'Beast'.
Beast?
An unidentifiable, elongated 'Beast', about the size of a fist.
Did we ever bring something like that in?
Just as the question bloomed in the Count's mind, the 'Fox' spoke.
"Let's head back to the party."
"Pardon?"
When the Count shot her a puzzled look, the 'Fox' tapped her own mask twice with her index finger.
"The party isn't over yet."
"W-well, that's true, but… well, if Your Ladyship is more interested in that side of things—"
It had certainly looked as though she'd fled to the terrace because she couldn't stand the crowds.
So that wasn't it, then?
Small unresolved questions remained, but the moment his eyes met the 'Beast's', the Count — quite unlike his usual self — harbored not a single shred of suspicion.
And so the Count made his way back toward the main hall, the 'Fox' at his side.
Shortly after parting ways with Alpinia, soldiers had materialized out of nowhere, slapped accusations on him about carrying dangerous items or some such nonsense, and seized Siwoo.
"The inspection ends here, sir."
Then, just as abruptly, their attitude flipped — they released him and shoved him along by the shoulders, as if to say go on, go see for yourself.
What on earth are they after?
Siwoo was bewildered.
It wasn't as if he hadn't braced himself. This was a place under Sicario's protection, and the odds of running into Alpinia had been extremely high.
Which was precisely why he'd kept such a careful watch. And yet.
Why did she pose as Charlotte?
He had never imagined for a moment that their meeting would unfold like this.
Did she notice my surveillance and lure me out?
Siwoo soon shook his head.
There was no sign she'd recognized me — not for an encounter staged that way.
If Alpinia had truly recognized Siwoo, she would never simply have let him walk.
Either way, that wasn't Charlotte.
One of the reasons Siwoo had joined this masquerade had just evaporated.
Well, the recruitment itself isn't off the table yet.
There would probably be another opportunity next time, he reasoned. Siwoo decided to make one final check of his magic tools before heading home.
And then—
"Huh?"
He discovered that every single camera-type magic tool he'd installed had been destroyed.
The mana circuits had been wrecked from inside the devices themselves. This was Alpinia's handiwork.
How?
It was a plan known to Siwoo and Siwoo alone. He'd been fairly confident it would go undetected, too.
These were the places described in GMS as secret spots.
Rooms provided by the organizers cost a considerable fee, after all. These were the nooks where the thrifty conducted their trysts instead — spaces that could also prove this mansion was a place where people were bought and sold with money.
Alpinia wouldn't have spared them so much as a glance. Lycaon would be too busy preparing his operation. Blanka, Grom, all the others as well.
For a crew like Sicario, who brushed everything off with a shrug—
She found every last one of them and smashed them?
One or two of them getting discovered, maybe. But all of them destroyed like this was entirely outside his predictions.
Should I go back and verify it even now?
Siwoo paused for a moment and turned his gaze toward the ballroom.
Even if Siwoo himself returned to the ballroom, could he stop Alpinia? Could he derail her plan?
Did Siwoo possess the strength, here and now, to manage it?
No.
Alpinia was someone even Status Window — the only magic Siwoo had — didn't work on.
Siwoo froze in place for a moment, glaring at the ballroom's firmly sealed doors.
Then he turned his back and slipped swiftly out of the mansion.
The party had slipped into its twilight hours before anyone noticed it. Slow, melodic strains drifted through the air — the hour when the masks, one by one, began meeting each other's eyes.
Clack.
Without warning, darkness swallowed the ballroom.
"What's happening?"
"A blackout?"
"Please wait just a moment. We're looking into it right aw—"
A murmuring crowd. Flustered servants. The commotion was brief.
Before long, the slumbering chandeliers blazed back to life.
I'll have to replace the entire facilities staff.
Just as the Count grumbled to himself—
"Huh?"
Someone let out an exclamation made purely of question marks.
The crowd's gaze converged on a single point.
The center of the ballroom.
An uninvited guest. Someone who had not been among the party's attendees.
It was a woman in the immaculate garb of a nun. She wore no veil. She wore no mask either.
Instead, red hair rippled through the air. It might have been a serpent.
A red snake. The 'Beast'.
So that's what it was — a snake, all along.
As if waking from sleep, as if unsealing, the woman's eyes drifted open.
Black depths. An abyss.
The eyes of a venomous snake.
"Peace be upon you all."
In the very next instant, the woman's abdomen split open in an enormous maw.