An Intense Initiation (2)
"Well, I suppose so."
If the woman before him guessed correctly just once more, the victory would be hers. Gale let out a low sneer.
"Already counting your chickens before they hatch, maid?"
Unlike Gale, who relished dragging out the wager, she seemed impatient to bring it to a swift end. To rush was to be anxious, and anxiety inevitably clouded one's judgment.
That's not how you play the game.
Flashing a venomous inward smirk, Gale slipped the ball into the middle cup this time. Then, his hands began to blur across the wooden crate once more.
Clack.
His hands snapped still.
"So, which will it be this time...?"
"The right."
Once again, there was not a shred of hesitation. The sheer finality in her voice smothered the surrounding murmurs into dead silence. Yet a smirk bloomed across Gale's lips. With exaggerated slowness, he lifted the right cup.
"Too bad, my lady maid."
Beneath the cup lay nothing. Feigning theatrical sympathy, Gale shook his head and overturned the cup on the far left. Only then did the little ball reveal itself, rolling smoothly into the palm of his hand.
"Bwahahaha!"
Laughter erupted from the surrounding youths, leaving Edwin and his nanny the only ones unamused. Gale arched a brow at her with mocking pity.
"My deepest condolences, maid."
"I still have one chance left."
Even after squandering her lead, Rachel spoke without the slightest tremor in her voice.
Put on a brave face all you want.
Gale chuckled beneath his breath. It made no difference which cup the wench chose; the outcome was already set in stone. This was a stage where no one walked away victorious except him.
Because the game was rigged from the very start.
Gale traded a knowing glance with the orange-haired boy flanking him. Then, bestowing a smug, patronizing smile upon his soon-to-be-defeated mark, he raised his hands.
"Now for the grand finale."
Clack.
Once more, Gale's lightning-fast hands ground to an abrupt halt.
"Which side is it?"
"The orange-haired boy. Left hand."
A bizarre stillness fell over the alley.
Gale, who had been brimming with swaggering confidence only a heartbeat ago, froze in place as though doused in freezing water. Rachel held him in an unflinching, icy stare. Her striking green eyes gleamed with an uncanny luster, reflecting Gale's suddenly bewildered expression.
"What? What did she just say?"
"Orange hair? But he's the only one here with orange hair."
The lackeys began to mutter among themselves. Meanwhile, the sole boy in the group with bright orange hair broke into a heavy cold sweat. Pricked by a guilty conscience, the youth suddenly shrieked at the top of his lungs.
"Wh-what kind of nonsense is that?! I've just been standing here the whole time!"
"Must I pry open your fingers to verify it myself?"
The boy flinched at her frigid question.
"I-I told you, I don't kno—!"
He scrambled backward, poised to bolt into the stables. But Rachel had no intention of letting him slip away so easily. In a single breath, she closed the distance, caught his wrist, and twisted it sharply back.
"Aaargh!"
A sharp screech tore from the boy's throat. The strength instantly sapped from his fingers, and something tumbled out of his fist with a dull tap.
It was a ball.
Jaws dropped across the clearing—not just Edwin's, but those of every watching youth as well. Rachel alone retained an impassive composure as she quietly bent down and retrieved the dropped sphere. She pinched it between two fingers, squishing it flat. To everyone's astonishment, the compressed object instantly snapped back into a perfect sphere.
"A rubber ball, I see."
"G-give that back!"
Flushed red with humiliated fury at being exposed, the orange-haired boy lunged toward her. Rachel effortlessly pivoted aside to evade him, turning her gaze directly back toward Gale.
"This boy was crouching right beside you earlier. When you scrambled the cups, you deliberately flicked the ball out toward yourself, and he palmed it from the side where your mark couldn't see."
At her calm, methodical breakdown, both Gale and his accomplice turned pale as sheets. A single question burned across both their faces:
How on earth did she notice that?
As if indulging their silent horror, Rachel continued smoothly.
"Naturally, you kept several identical balls on hand. You had to slip one under whichever cup your opponent didn't pick."
Without altering her expression, Rachel reached out and seized Gale by the forearm. With a quick flick of her wrist, an identical rubber ball slid out from inside his loose sleeve and clattered to the dirt.
The orange-haired boy bit his lip until it bled. Rachel's deduction had been razor-sharp—far too accurate for either of them to squirm their way out.
"W-what the hell?"
"Hold on a second... Does that mean Gale's been hustling us the whole time, too?"
"They were in cahoots this entire game?! What about my coins?!"
It appeared Edwin and Rachel were far from the only victims the pair had fleeced. Amid the rising clamor of furious voices, the orange-haired boy stole terrified glances at Gale.
Gale glared daggers at Rachel, his jaw working as he clicked his tongue. Knowing their trick had been laid bare in broad daylight, he realized there was nothing left to gain by clinging to stubborn denials.
"Take it. Consider the bet yours."
Gale tossed the precious bracelet onto the wooden crate like a lord flinging copper to a filthy beggar.
"Rotten luck. Tch."
He spat a thick glob of phlegm right at Rachel's feet and turned on his heel to leave. A sharp frown knit Rachel's brow at his foul, insolent display, though he was already walking away without noticing.
"The hell are you staring at?!"
Gale barked at the bewildered boys who blocked his path, glaring murderously at each of them. Intimidated by his vicious glare, the boys cowered, none daring to voice their grievances. In the end, none of them possessed the spine to cross the youngest son of a Count and a senior apprentice to the Emperor's master carriage craftsman.
Gale sneered at the spineless pack and resumed his stride. Yet there was one person left whose voice cut cleanly through his retreat.
"Did you pull this exact same cheap trick against His Highness?"
It was Rachel.
"Conning an innocent child who knew no better... truly magnificent. Fitting conduct for a vulgar street thug."
"What did you say?!"
The venomous ridicule twisted Gale's face in an instant. Rachel tilted her chin up slightly.
"If you had the gall to defraud imperial royalty, surely you came prepared for the consequences?"
Flushed purple with rage, Gale charged across the dirt and grabbed Rachel violently by the lapels of her uniform.
"I went easy on you because you're a wench, so take your damn win and crawl away. Don't push your luck."
Gale snarled the threat directly into her ear. But Rachel didn't flinch. Instead, her voice dropped every trace of respectful formality.
"Went easy? On whom? With such pathetic parlor tricks, who did you think you were fooling?"
The abrupt shift to blunt, commanding speech, paired with her unwavering poise, caused the color to drain from Gale's face. The angelic woman before him suddenly bared her teeth in a cold, vicious grin.
"You utter idiot."
It was not the smile of a harmless maid, but the chilling smirk of a demon. Leaning in until her lips nearly brushed his ear, she whispered with lethal quietude.
"Defrauding a member of the imperial royal family is **Lèse-Majesté**, punishable by decapitation. You should have checked who you were picking a fight with before acting so proud."
Gale's cheek twitched under the sheer, absolute weight of her words.
"The young prince you treated like dirt happens to be blood of the imperial line. Don't tell me your pea-sized brain failed to consider even that much?"
It was an undeniable truth. Yet Gale forced a blustering sneer, trying desperately to shrug off the terror clutching his throat.
"S-so what? He's just a **penniless prince**! Do you think there's anyone in this palace who doesn't know the Third Prince is treated worse than a scullery maid from the Emperor's Palace?!"
Rachel clicked her tongue in genuine disbelief.
"Do you truly believe that nonsense? An imperial royal remains an imperial royal until the day he dies. You know very well that insulting royalty carries the exact same sentence as high treason, don't you?"
No matter how noble a Count's blood might be, he was leagues beneath one who bore the Emperor's bloodline. That was an unalterable law of the empire, even if the heavens themselves were to crumble.
"A petty noble's brat versus an imperial prince of the Ventrum Empire."
Noticing the ghastly pallor spreading across Gale's trembling face, Rachel curled the corner of her lips higher.
"If the headsman swings his axe, which neck do you think rolls first?"
Grind—
Gale ground his molars so hard they creaked. She was right. If anyone brought this matter before the imperial authorities, his life was forfeit.
"Tch!"
With a frustrated snarl, Gale shoved Rachel away by the collar. He had thrown his full weight into the heave, yet Rachel merely stood firm, dusting off her ruffled collar with effortless disdain. Her composure only stoked the furnace of his humiliation, leaving him heaving for breath.
"Just you wait. I've memorized your face."
Barking at his cohorts, he turned and fled from the stables. Rachel didn't bother chasing after them. The fragile trust binding that little pack of bullies had already shattered; without their leader's hollow authority, they wouldn't last long anyway.
Just then, the orange-haired boy, who had lagged behind, crept timidly toward her.
"U-um... I'm sorry."
Rachel arched an eyebrow at the unexpected words.
"I was just... Gale made me do it..."
Naturally, it was an excuse poorly disguised as an apology. Rachel cut through it with a firm, unforgiving tone.
"Do not apologize to me. Apologize to His Highness."
"Ah."
The orange-haired boy hastily turned and bowed deeply before Edwin, who stood nearby.
"I am truly sorry, Your Highness! I swear I will never commit such insolence against Your Highness again!"
Edwin froze, his face a canvas of pure bewilderment. He looked for all the world like a child who had never received an apology in his entire life.
Yet the vulnerability lasted only a heartbeat. Straightening his small back, the young prince puffed out his chest and raised his voice with childish bluster.
"I-I shall forgive you this once! But if you ever do it again, I won't let you off! Understood?!"
As if he had never cowered in the dirt, Edwin threw his shoulders back with comical bravado. Relieved to be pardoned so easily, the orange-haired boy bowed repeatedly until he scampered off into the distance.
Only then could Rachel take a proper, undisturbed look at the prince she was tasked with protecting.
Dazzling, radiant blonde hair. Blue eyes shimmering like polished sapphires. Porcelain-smooth, porcelain-fair skin. Viewed up close, the young prince was endowed with breathtaking beauty. Yet in stark contrast to his noble features, the gaunt frame visible beneath his clothes and his sickly, pale complexion tugged painfully at the heart.
Suddenly, the young prince turned his gaze sharply upon her.
"Just who are you?"
It was a hostile glare, paired with a prickly, defensive voice. For a rare moment in her life, the legendary assassin found herself completely caught off guard.