Good Heavens, My Fiancée Has Gone Missing? (1)
"…Who put you up to this?"
Psyche had decided the kidnapper must be one of the men she had turned down. Anyone who took her would need a motive, and slipping unseen into the Royal Castle would have required an accomplice.
But that someone would actually commit a thing this extreme, this stupid—she could hardly believe it.
"…You think doing this is going to get you what you want?"
She forced a show of composure. Inside she was rigid with fear, her whole body shaking, but her voice stayed cold and flat. She was not entirely without something to lean on.
"Everyone from the Royal Castle will already have been rounded up. Once they start a proper investigation, pinning down who did it won't take long."
Security inside the Royal Castle was strict. Reaching Psyche's chambers meant passing more than one checkpoint, and the only way to slip in and take her was to buy off the guard and carry it out together. The castle guards were set to watch one another. The moment they learned she was missing, they would seize last night's watch and hold them ready, and if a confession was forced out of them by magic, the culprit would surface soon enough.
Which meant—
"Kidnapping me was a very, very foolish choice. Idiot."
Psyche drew a slow breath. Yes. They would catch the culprit, and they would find her. There was no need to panic quite so much. And yet a prickling unease kept gnawing at her, and the source of it was the man seated in front of her.
It wasn't that he couldn't hear her. Every time she spoke, she caught some small stir of presence. But even after listening, he hardly seemed shaken.
…Does he think he won't be caught?
She had no idea what that confidence rested on, so she had no choice but to press him harder, lashing out with a heavier threat.
"Guess you haven't even heard the rumors about my fiancé."
A flinch. This time he stirred. Psyche smiled inwardly. Of course. The name of House Monte was famous within the kingdom and beyond it. The mad knight house.
"You'll have heard them. That the next Monte will be crueler than the one we have now, and stronger. That boy loves me—like a fool. He'll do anything for me. Anything. So he'll come to save me."
"…"
"You ought to be afraid. Whatever the lot of you are thinking, it won't do you any good against him. Not a bit of—"
She was still speaking when her voice began to shrink. Would Libido come for her? After she had been so heartless to him at the end? She wasn't sure.
Her eyes wavered.
And the man, even after hearing the name of House Monte, showed no great alarm. A slight shift when she spoke of her fiancé—that was all.
Anxiety feeds on imagination. The anxiety inside Psyche was no different. As she saw it, they must have prepared this with exquisite care: learned the guards' routes in advance, bought the guards off or removed them at the appointed hour, and swiftly taken her alone and spirited her away. And still her captor had made no demand of her at all.
What, exactly, was that supposed to mean?
"…"
A soft scrape. Footsteps, receding. A creak. A slam—the door. Now the basement held no one but Psyche. She was left alone in total darkness.
…No. She had her favorite pillow, so she wasn't entirely alone. She crept over and lay down beside it. She couldn't begin to guess where it had all gone wrong.
She drew her knees up to her chest, and another possibility rose.
What if the kidnapper hadn't done this because he wanted her?
What if she had been swept into some vast conspiracy, and was being used only as a tool to move a plan forward? Then that conspiracy might be—
…So he'll come to save me.
It might not be her they were aiming at.
The people who would come running to rescue her, for instance. The people who had been the sharpest thorn in someone's side.
"No."
Libido.
All at once the tears came. Because it was cold and strange. Because being kidnapped was wretched. Because she was afraid. Because she didn't know where she was. They spilled over in a rush. No—that wasn't it.
She was worried. Suddenly, wildly worried.
She didn't know why. From the moment that idiot surfaced in her thoughts, her body began to shake. If only—if only he had simply wanted her. Then it would have ended there.
If they were after Libido—
Her lips trembled.
She wanted him to come. She wanted Libido to appear like a prince, with a flourish, and save her. She wanted to bury herself in his solid arms and sob, and tell him she'd had a bad dream. But—
The enemy might be aiming for Libido. If so, he must not come. It would be a trap. Then she didn't want him to come. Whatever pain she was in, she only wanted Libido unhurt.
The one mercy was that he would not come. Before all this, she had told him she wanted to break the engagement. She had called him disgusting. She had spat out such vicious words that his love for her must have gone cold all at once.
So. Good. Libido wasn't coming. He wouldn't. Because he no longer loved Psyche.
"I hate this…"
Psyche bit down hard on her lip and sniffled. She wanted him not to come. It would be a trap. He would be hurt. But—but…
And still the selfish wish rose anyway, that he would please find her and save her, and it disgusted her so deeply she couldn't stand herself.
Fortunately, Psyche had no choice at all.
At that same hour, Libido was receiving a man from the Royal Castle who had come to the villa—a man sent to inform him that the princess was missing.
"…The princess cannot be found, you say."
"Yes. So I wondered whether she might have come looking for you, Lord Libido. The two of you often slipped away to meet in secret, did you not? I thought this might be the same…"
"And those involved—what has been done with them?"
Libido's lips were bone-dry. Brushing a hand along the corner of his eye, he bore down on the man from the castle with a coldness that cut too sharp. A guilty corner of him made the overreaction leap out all the worse.
The man from the Royal Castle, sweat beading on his skin, recounted how matters stood. As he saw it, Libido had every right to be angry. He was no one else. He was the fiancé.
"…So at present we are drawing out confessions. Only, whether some other magical measure was laid beforehand, every account coming out claims innocence."
"All of them, innocent?"
"Which is why—well. The truth is, we are placing rather more weight on another possibility. You know how Her Highness has every turn of the Secret Tunnel inside the Royal Castle by heart…"
Libido blinked.
"Are you telling me, at this moment, that Psyche walked out on her own two feet?"
"…Yes. I say it with care, but that is where we are placing more weight. Her Highness's history in such matters is rather illustrious, you see. My asking whether you might be keeping her with you comes from the same line of thought."
…Not a bad theory.
Libido made no effort to contradict the man's guess. It was not a guess that ran against him.
In truth, when he heard someone had come from the Royal Castle, his stomach had dropped. He had been afraid they had already identified him and come looking, and had been fretting over what excuse he could spin. But the shape of it, somehow, was the castle offering the excuse for him.
"So that is the conclusion you mean to settle on?"
"No! No, of course not. We are searching with everything we have. His Majesty is in a towering rage, and with the princess missing, we are of course searching at full strength."
When Libido put on a light show of anger, the man from the castle startled and waved his hands.
"I am only asking that you, young master, also look in the places Her Highness might have gone. You kept her company so often that I trust you would know the likely spots… and that you would send word, should you find her."
"…Very well. You will find Psyche with every effort at your disposal. You must."
Libido sent the man away and let out a long, deep breath. The man would never dream that Psyche was locked in his basement at this very moment.
And yet—what on earth was he supposed to do with her? He was at a loss. He had kidnapped her first, with no plan at all, and the price of it was this grave.
…Should I just let her go?
But nothing had been resolved enough for that. Shaking his head, Libido turned to go back down into the basement of the villa.
"…Just in case."
To hide who he was, he took a crude leather outfit and a wolf mask from the storeroom and pulled them on.
Like a monster.
His build and face roughly concealed, Libido took up a candle and went down to the basement. Paper and a pen were in his hands. He could not speak, so he meant to communicate with these.
Even by the light of a single small candle, Psyche's beautiful face was radiant enough to stop a heart. An air unlike before had settled over her, and it only drew a person in more fiercely.
"…The truth is, Libido isn't coming. He won't come. Never."
A voice cold as ice. But more bewildering than the chill of it was what the words contained. Libido stared at her without a word. Psyche went on, triumphant.
"I broke it off with that idiot."
"…"
Broken off. The words dropped, cold, into Libido's heart. A stifled laugh slipped from Psyche. He might hide his build and cover his face with a mask, but he could not hide the tremor in his eyes.
She had landed a blow.
Riding the momentum, she kept lying.
"What, did you think we were especially close just because he was my fiancé? Your investigation must have been sloppy. Too bad. I simply couldn't stand the thought of marrying someone like him, so I broke it off."
"…"
"So if there's something you want, just tell me. Who knows? There might be something I can grant you. Bark hard enough and maybe—like a dog. Woof, woof."
Reason shines its clearest when it moves for the sake of feeling.
Psyche chose the bitterest words she could find and packed them in. She had to make the kidnapper believe that she and Libido were finished completely. Her lips parted.
"That moron Libido was pathetic. A loser. An idiot. He doesn't understand people even a speck. So I left him. There were plenty of better men besides him."
"…"
"The Prince of Frankia, for instance, was terribly kind. He took off his coat and gave it to me because he was afraid my chest might show. Aaah, isn't that just adorable?"
She didn't even know the Prince of Frankia's name. The one who had given her his coat was Libido. A short laugh escaped her. Even now, she was thinking of him.
That last moment—Libido, at a complete loss, catching her as she left in tears saying she wanted to break the engagement, insisting she at least take his coat. Psyche bit her lip hard.
Even like this, she had to protect him. She didn't know whether it would mean anything. If the man had kidnapped her in order to drop Libido into a trap…
Libido. Libido.
You must never come. Better that I die.
"I meant to break it off from the start anyway. We weren't even that close. A business arrangement. You know the sort. Did you think we were mad for each other? Pfft. He'll make a show of looking for me a few times, for the sake of his pride, and that'll be that. Someone like me—who on earth would ever love—"
A grab. The masked man seized her by the collar. She had struck the nerve, it seemed. His fist trembled, and his gaze shook without end.
A sneer touched the corner of Psyche's mouth. Idiot. Show your intent, and you get played. Even as she sneered, her hands trembled finely and her body curled in on itself.
Then a violent heave—
The hand at her collar flung her to the floor. Psyche dragged in ragged breaths. She was afraid. Frightened out of her mind.
The primal terror of violence seized her and hurt. But…
…He's angry.
This works.
A faint smile touched Psyche's lips.