Bring the Evidence!
"My god, it's like an angel has descended."
"How can every movement be so graceful?"
"My second dance will be with Lady Esmael."
"Bullshit, the second dance is mine."
Her deep chestnut hair cascaded in shimmering waves. All the praise was directed at Jasmine Esmael. Her entrance had set the banquet hall ablaze, like the red of her lips.
Golden ratio at a glance.
Even from afar, her eyes, nose, and mouth were perfectly proportioned in a 1.618:1 ratio—no flaws in sight. He'd seen and crafted countless beauties over the years, but women of her caliber could be counted on one hand.
With Lady Esmael's arrival, the young lords swarmed around her like bees, their faces flushed beet red.
"Thank you for coming all this way, Lady Esmael."
"I'm grateful for the Duke's hospitality."
"This is my wife..."
Of course, people whispered her name, but she strode in with proud, haughty steps, exchanging words only with the Frederik Duke's family—ignoring the other nobles entirely. When introduced to Oscar, Jasmine flashed an enchanting smile and began chatting with him, while onlookers gazed at them with envy.
The protagonists really are on another level.
The hall was packed, yet every eye was on Oscar and Jasmine. Of course, the real star of the evening was someone else.
"Young Lord Logan Frederick of the Frederik Ducal House enters!"
And there was the true protagonist.
Can't beat a noble. Speak of the devil.
"L-Logan? How are you here...?"
"Shouldn't your first question be if I'm healthy, Mother?"
"O-Of course. I was just surprised, that's all."
"My son... Your complexion is so much better than before. Astonishing."
"The treatment is working."
Micro-expressions captured the scene: fury and shock on Grace and Oscar's faces, relief on Graham's.
"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Jasmine of House Esmael."
"Forgive my late greeting. Logan of House Frederik, my lady."
Curiosity lit Jasmine's features.
"Might I have the honor of the first dance?"
"Of course."
Jasmine delicately took Logan's offered hand, and their dance began to the strains of the opening melody.
"Too bad. This is popcorn-worthy."
"Pop-cown? Wha ish tha?"
"Fried corn with salt. Eat it all before you talk, kid! You're dropping it everywhere!"
Minor Gold, Res, and Walter munched on the banquet crepes, watching the spectacle with satisfaction—but the peaceful interlude didn't last.
"You bastard! How the hell is this happening?!"
Oscar, eyes wild, barreled toward him and shoved his face close.
"Young lord, why aren't you dancing?"
"Cut the crap! Why is Logan—who should be in the hospital—over there?!"
He growled low enough for only Minor to hear, but it wasn't intimidating. The duke was watching from afar.
"Huh? That's odd. I distinctly told the Duchess that the eldest young lord had gone to the hospital for treatment. Did you hear something different, second young lord?"
"K-Keep it down!"
"What is this commotion with guests present?"
Duke Frederik approached with his wife. It was a minor disturbance, but since his second son was causing it, it was bound to raise eyebrows. The duchess glared daggers at Minor from beside her husband, her eyes promising violence if he spoke out of turn.
"Father. It's..."
"What is the meaning of this?"
"..."
"My son has nothing to say, it seems. I'll ask this one."
"No, Father! We were just having a normal conversation—"
"Minor Gold."
Duke Frederik recited his full name without hesitation, eyes like drawn steel.
"Speak everything plainly."
"Here? It might cause a stir at the banquet..."
Glancing around like a frightened rabbit, Minor earned an even icier stare from the duke.
"I won't say it twice. Speak here."
He hadn't wanted a scene, but orders were orders.
"Nothing much. The second young lord asked why the eldest was here instead of the hospital."
He turned, flashing Oscar a bright smile.
"Seemed worried about his health."
"Y-Yes. I just thought it strange how my brother suddenly got better... Ah."
Lame. Hooked himself before I even reeled.
"You find it strange that Logan's improving? As if it shouldn't happen—as if it's natural for him not to. You knew he left to recover."
"Th-That's..."
"Don't scold him, dear. He was just startled by the sudden appearance. Me too."
Blood's thicker than water? The second son wriggled free on Mommy's save.
An orphan raised alone in a harsh world. He'd always been by himself.
"Yes, the duchess might have thought the eldest was dying, so his recovery seems odd."
"What nonsense is that?!"
"Enough. Lower your voice."
Thus, he dug his own escape routes. With sharp instincts and judgment. Like now.
The duke's gaze returned to him, expectant. Would his prepared answer satisfy?
"I can tell you, Your Grace. I held back, wondering if you'd deliberately concealed it too. Your son's illness—the eldest's."
"Wh-What are you saying?!"
The duchess's voice rose, but the duke's raised hand silenced her.
"My son's illness? This will take time. Follow me to the study. Wife, Oscar too."
"Dear! How can you be swayed by a mere doctor's words? With honored guests—"
"Don't test my patience, wife."
The duchess, Oscar, Minor, Res, and Walter followed the formidable duke in silence. The study door shut, guarded by knights outside, and the conversation resumed.
"Tower Master Minor Gold of the Beauty Tower—speak truth. What do you mean I hid Oscar's illness?"
He took the heavy words in stride and continued calmly.
"Twelve days ago, when I arrived at the castle, at the duchess's invitation. I saw her portrait painted green."
"Elizabeth's favorite dress color. You know I didn't summon you for that."
Minor nodded lightly at the duke's prodding.
"Important detail. At first, I thought it just a beautiful dress. But the eldest wore green to dinner—and when I brought painkillers later."
"And?"
The duke seemed oblivious despite the explanation.
"As you know, his room—carpets, wallpaper, even candles—all green. That's why he's been ill."
The duke's uninvolved, clearly.
He met the duke's steady gaze.
"Exposure causes headaches, anemia, pallor, loss of appetite. Nails yellow too."
The duchess and Oscar grew visibly flustered as he spoke.
"Prolonged exposure brings blisters, red rashes, pitted scars, skin rot around genitals."
"Th-That was Elizabeth's...?"
The duke's trembling voice painted her end vividly, no further details needed.
"Many symptoms, but worse: vomiting green fluid, blindness. All from arsenic in the green dyes filling his room."
"...Arsenic? The poison in pesticides and rat bait?"
Minor nodded.
"Ancient history where I'm from. Called Scheele's Green, Paris Green, Emerald Green. Check his carpet, wallpaper, candles."
"D-Dear, absurd! You know how much I cherish Logan! It was trendy, expensive—I gifted it!"
The duke's eyes bloodshot, her defense fell flat.
"D-Dear! Say something!"
"You... As Elizabeth's maid, the dress, hairpieces you gifted her—all green."
"I thought she'd like expensive things—"
"Don't utter her name!"
"...Dear."
The duchess's fingers quivered; her son shook harder. The duke muttered on.
"Everything... all green. I thought the baron's daughter bought such luxuries out of friendship with Elizabeth..."
His grip whitened on the chair arms.
"You wretch! What do you know to spout such lies? Even if I decorated his room and bought clothes, how's that linked?!"
In a powder keg moment, the tragic duchess's face twisted demonic toward him.
"Can't you see? Not fully cured, but he's improving at our Beauty Tower. Arsenic's odorless, tasteless powder."
Odorless, flavorless—perfect poison East and West. Even Korea used arsenic compounds in "granted medicine."
"Dust his old clothes—arsenic flies. If innocent, stay in his room a few days."
They flinched together— they knew of arsenic.
"Or the late duchess's unchanged room. Prove it personally. Disguised as sugar where I'm from—no one expects clothes."
"R-Ridiculous! Don't wag that sly tongue—bring evidence!"
The lady demands proof. Courtesy to provide.
Tick—tick tick—
"Shall I?"
"...What?"
Evidence overflows. Overwhelm with numbers if words fail.
"Now, I'll explain using the crystal orb readings."