Hide, Audit Department Chief - 3
Banquets are always so tiring.
"Greetings to Your Grace, the Demon Duke!"
I hadn't even set foot inside the mansion yet and already I felt drained.
When had it started? Crowded places had grown strangely unpleasant, and whenever someone trembled before me I found myself wondering whether I should have come at all.
It was the same now. Looking at the guards stiffening into rigid salutes, I felt both exhaustion and pity at once.
If it weren't for my little one, I never would have come.
But what choice did I have? For his sake, I could overcome a trivial inconvenience like this.
"Just a moment, please! We'll open it right away!"
I watched the guards hurriedly working the front gate, then lifted my head without thinking. A familiar current of mana had brushed against my senses.
Far off, on the balcony facing the front of the mansion, stood a man and a woman.
My little one.
It was him. I could never mistake his mana.
I sharpened my vision with magic to be certain—yes, it was him. He had noticed me as well; a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
Coming was worth it after all.
A smile rose unbidden. To see him the moment I arrived at the banquet—almost as if he had been waiting for me.
The satisfaction swelling in my chest cooled a little when I looked at the figure beside him.
Lady Margeta.
The woman clinging to his side. Another woman standing next to my little one, not me.
I had expected it. I already knew how close he and Lady Margeta were.
...Even so, it grated.
"No need to open it. I'll go in myself—stand aside."
I spoke shortly to the guards still fussing with the gate and teleported.
I had known what I would find and steeled myself for it, yet knowing and seeing were different things. The sight of him with another woman sent an unfamiliar emotion surging up, rendering my resolve meaningless.
No—I knew perfectly well what it was. Jealousy. How shameful, to feel jealous of a child so much younger than myself.
It doesn't matter.
Shame was fine. Jealousy was fine. They only proved how deep my love for him ran.
"My little one."
The distance between us vanished in an instant.
Same as ever.
I almost laughed at his clothes. Even at a gathering like this he wore that plain uniform. It was so very like him.
The young lady beside him wore a red dress.
They don't match.
Black and red—far too awkward. If he was dressed in black, he ought to be wrapped in warm white instead.
"To see you the moment I arrive—how fortunate."
That brilliant red only made her stand out alone; it did not suit him at all.
"Were you waiting for me, by any chance?"
Black went with white. That was the proper way.
"Heh. If you were, I would be delighted."
Just like me.
The moment someone seized me from behind, pure instinct made me flinch. I knew it was the Demon Duke, yet I still startled for no good reason.
Magic really is convenient.
Every time I watched people teleport so effortlessly, the urge to reclass as a magic swordsman flared up. Of course magic was a matter of talent, and teleportation sat rather high on the list of advanced spells, so it would be difficult.
Anyway, I answered the Demon Duke lightly, since she had spoken first.
"I stepped out for some air, and Your Grace happened to arrive."
"Is that so?"
A faint smile touched her lips; her ears were pricked skyward. Seeing those ears that always revealed the truth, she must have been in a good mood.
Strange. The Demon Duke hated crowds so much she barely attended even the New Year's Audience. Voluntarily coming to a banquet was rare enough; looking this pleased was rarer still.
"The wind is cold—shall we go inside? The Duke of Victory has been waiting for Your Grace as well."
Leaving a guest standing on a balcony was impolite, so I guided her in.
I was a guest myself, of course, but even among guests there was hierarchy. Spotting a duke while simply passing by meant one was obliged to play attendant on the spot.
"Yes. I've kept the host waiting too long."
She gave a small nod at my words and began to walk.
The Duke of Victory really had been waiting a long while. This was no ordinary guest; the Demon Duke was a rarity second only to the Wise Duke. The news that such a rarity would attend a banquet held for his daughter had clearly delighted him.
Yet the guest who had promised to come never arrived, leaving him thoroughly puzzled. The Demon Duke was not the sort to play pranks about such things, so he had simply decided she would appear when the time was right and let it go.
"Hmm."
Just as we were about to re-enter the banquet hall, a sound of faint displeasure reached my ears.
"Your Grace?"
I turned at the unexpected noise. The Demon Duke's gaze was directed downward.
More precisely, toward the hands Margeta and I still held clasped together.
"You two seem quite close."
After a brief silence she spoke in a low voice.
She was still smiling, yet I could tell her mood had shifted from a moment ago.
The note of displeasure in her tone, the ears that had drooped a fraction—if anyone could look at that and claim nothing had changed, that would be the stranger thing.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
While I was still searching for an appropriate response, Margeta—who had kept silent until now—answered in my place.
She smiled brightly, as if truly grateful. Except the earlier nuance had not sounded like genuine praise at all.
"Let us go in."
"Ah—yes."
Wearing an unreadable smile at Margeta's words, the Demon Duke strode ahead into the banquet hall.
...Was it the hands?
I turned the sudden change over in my mind, then glanced down at our joined hands.
Yes, that was probably the problem. Looked at a certain way, a pair of youngsters had been putting on a display of affection right in front of an elder. Calling it proper etiquette would have been a stretch.
I slipped up.
Had I grown too comfortable with the Demon Duke without realizing it? Calling her "Mother" so often must have made me treat her like my actual mother.
"Mar—"
"Let's go, Karl."
There was no way Margeta had missed what I had just noticed. I meant to ask about her reaction, but she pulled me along before I could finish the sentence.
Of course, her strength alone could never actually drag my body. That said...
Better keep my mouth shut.
The glimpse I caught of Margeta's face was rigid—exactly the expression of a veteran on the eve of battle.
She gripped my hand with a force incomparable to before. If it looked like a vow never to let go, was that only my imagination?
Right. I saw nothing. I heard nothing.
Instinct warned me that staying quiet was the wisest course.
The already lively banquet grew even more restless. The atmosphere was exactly what you would get if someone dropped Mentos into cola.
Nobles plunged into a game of reading the room at the appearance of such a rarity. But the only ones qualified to approach this rare Mentos were the two dukes of equal standing.
"How delightful to see you at the mansion. Thank you for gracing us with your presence."
"It has been some time, Demon Duke."
The moment the Demon Duke appeared from the balcony, the Duke of Victory hurried over. The Iron Blood Duke, who had been nearby, trailed after him as well.
So this is the hierarchy among dukes.
Watching the three of them gather, the thought arose unbidden.
Even now the two dukes greeting the Demon Duke bent their waists a fraction, straightened, almost bent again, then straightened once more in a bizarre little dance.
Can't be helped.
I understood. The Demon Duke was no ordinary duke. She had already reigned as a duke back when the grandfathers of the Duke of Victory and the Iron Blood Duke were still dukes themselves.
In other words, those two had first met her when they were not even heirs—mere grandsons. And that same duke was still a duke now? Treating her carelessly would have been pure madness.
"I am glad to see you as well. It is a relief that both of you appear in good health."
Which was why the Demon Duke answered with meticulous formality. Using her usual speech with the two of them here would have been an open admission that she sat at the absolute top of the age rankings.
...I carefully pretended not to notice how the dukes' waists dipped lower every time they heard her polite language.
"A sight one rarely gets to see. I suppose this is the true charm of a banquet."
I tossed a quiet joke toward Margeta, whose expression had been severe for some time. She seemed in a foul mood; I wanted to ease it even a little.
"……."
The problem was the complete lack of response.
"...Mar?"
I called her carefully, but again nothing. It seemed her ears, not just her mouth, had sealed shut.
I couldn't understand it. If she were angry with me I would at least apologize, yet the fact that she still refused to release my hand suggested that wasn't it.
Then why?
Someone who never acted like this suddenly behaving this way only made it more frightening.
No.
No, no, no—absolutely not.
He's mine.
My grip on Karl's hand tightened. Without meaning to, I bit my lip.
He's mine.
This couldn't be allowed. How could such a disaster simply drop out of the sky?
Tears of injustice threatened to well up, but I forced them down. I would never show weakness in front of an enemy.
I was first.
I repeated the words inwardly and steadied myself. Do not waver. I love Karl more than anyone, and the one Karl loves is me.
No matter that the other party was... a duke...
What do I do...
The moment I recalled her rank, the composure I had barely gathered began to tremble again.
I knew a duke's power well. Having lived as a member of a ducal house myself, how could I not? No one understood a duke's power better than those born to one.
Which was exactly why I knew this was a catastrophic disaster.
Why you?
A disaster I had never truly expected. I had entertained the faintest, most distant "what if," yet I never imagined it would become real.
Why do you like Karl?
But that "what if" had become reality.
I had realized it on the balcony. The look she gave him, the tone of her voice, the way she reached for him—and the look she had turned on me.
It was unmistakable. Emotions displayed that openly could not be mistaken.
Even now.
While exchanging greetings with the other dukes she kept sliding her gaze toward Karl. The affection in it was no illusion.
I bit my lip again. I had thought this would simply be a happy banquet. An opportunity to show the nobles our relationship.
If I had known it would turn out like this, I would rather never have co—
...No.
Don't think weak thoughts. This is for the better. I learned of an enemy I had never even suspected.
Yes—on the contrary, this is good. Now that I know who the enemy is, I have time to prepare.
I won't lose.
So what if she's a duke? Does marriage rest on rank alone?
I already have a promise with Karl. The moment the New Year's Audience ends, we go straight to Father.
I will not lose.
Yes. No need to be tense.
The Valenti always obtain what they desire. No matter that the opponent is a duke—I will never lose.