Chapter 27
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Fake in Chains
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Philomel shivered from the chill rising from the floor. The moment she arrived at the Public Security Office, she was handcuffed and thrown into a holding cell.
Her wrists ached from the cuffs, and the cheek she'd been slapped on burned fiercely.
Her name was Rozanne Manon, wasn't it? The Security Captain had called her the Lady of Viscount Manon.
At first, the name didn't ring a bell, but she soon recalled the Manon Viscount family.
As someone educated as a successor, she had information on most noble houses stored in her head.
'The Manon Viscounts...'
They were an utterly ordinary family with nothing noteworthy except that the Viscountess was the younger sister of Duchess Muriel. Though their one daughter was anything but ordinary.
She'd never been slapped before—not even by Nanny—so she was left dazed for a moment.
'Not even Nanny ever slapped me.'
Beyond the simple pain, the stinging sensation suggested something had scratched her.
'Rozanne was wearing several rings.'
If it was a scratch from a ring, it would likely leave a scar.
But now wasn't the time to worry about wounds or pain. Not only the security officers but even the other criminals who'd been dragged in were gawking at Philomel like she was a monkey in a zoo.
"That's the infamous fake Princess?"
"She looks just like the wanted posters, so it has to be her."
"Why would someone who looks perfectly fine do something like that?"
"Who knows? Bad blood can't be hidden, I guess."
"Just thinking about how we've been patrolling a dozen times a day because of her gives me the chills."
At least the security officers were somewhat better.
"Hey! Since you're gonna die anyway, come play with us!"
"What? Does playing the high-and-mighty Princess make us lowlifes look like bugs to you?"
"You heaven-cursed wench! Worse than the likes of us!"
The criminals hurled insults at Philomel, openly leering at her.
With the officers failing to intervene decisively, the abuse only grew worse.
Being utterly exposed to them through the bars gnawed at Philomel's sanity. But imagining what lay ahead made even this seem trivial.
'I was a fool.'
She'd exposed the Ring of Crimson Flame too much. She couldn't remove it from her finger if she wanted the magic to work.
'I should have kept my hands in my pockets the whole time.'
If only she'd rubbed the ring to activate a defensive spell before they grabbed her arms. Things wouldn't have come to this.
Being dragged before Emperor Justis like this meant death, sooner or later.
The escape she'd dreamed of for years ending so pathetically filled her with resentment before fear.
Could a villainess never escape her destined fate, no matter how she struggled?
She had to do something. She couldn't just sit and wait for the scripted end without trying.
Philomel stared at the people beyond the bars.
"Excuse me."
"W-What?"
The fake Princess, who hadn't stirred until then, spoke up, making the security officers flinch.
"Let me say it again: I'm not the fake Princess. My name is Charlotte Tate. I'm just a traveler who came here to visit family."
Philomel rattled off a fake name and excuse on the spot.
The most senior-looking officer among them stepped forward.
"Give me a break. Look, don't pull any stunts. Let's just get this over with nicely. No one here is buying that nonsense."
He didn't look like an easy mark, but Philomel didn't give up.
"Is it so impossible for two people in the world to look alike?"
"So you're saying you're just someone who happens to resemble her?"
"From what I read in the papers, all the reports so far have been cases of mistaken identity. You can't say for sure it's not the same with me."
"Shut it! We all know you're just trying to weasel out!"
To the man snorting in derision, Philomel played her last card.
"More importantly, I have a witness who can verify my identity."
"And who might that be?"
"Contact the Magic Tower right now and summon Mage Lexion. I'm his younger sister."
The mention of the Magic Tower shifted the mood among the officers.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say Angelium's economy revolved around the Magic Tower; the city was heavily dependent on it.
People flocked to the Tower, spending money while staying in the city, and its magic artifacts were the main local products.
Historically, when friction arose between the Empire and the Tower, leading it to close its doors, Angelium's citizens suffered the most.
From their perspective, antagonizing the Tower's mages brought nothing good.
"Lexion? Did she just say Lexion?"
"Lexion from the Magic Artifact Management Division?"
"The Tower Master's prized disciple?"
Moreover, the brother she'd only met today seemed to be quite the celebrity.
If artifact management was his domain, the security forces naturally had to tread carefully.
Any disruption in specialty goods supply could be disastrous, and investigating magic-related crimes required the Tower's cooperation.
Philomel breathed a silent sigh of relief. She'd considered name-dropping Tower Master Rguin if Lexion didn't work, but it seemed unnecessary.
Claiming to be the Tower Master's daughter would sound too grandiose—like pure bluff.
"...How are we supposed to believe you?"
The officer's momentum had clearly deflated as he asked.
"If you don't believe me, contact him and tell him to come here."
"But at this late hour..."
"It's not okay to wake him in the middle of the night, but it's fine to leave his sister locked up like this?"
They looked chastened at her point. They were on the verge of buying it.
Since she was cashing in Lexion's name anyway, Philomel decided to milk it for all it was worth.
"My brother dotes on his one and only little sister. Imagine how heartbroken he'll be to learn she was mistakenly assaulted and thrown in here."
Though Rozanne had done the slapping, she subtly shifted the blame to the security office.
"...Well, it wouldn't hurt to check if his sister really visited Angelium, right?"
"Exactly. If it's true, we'd just be wasting a high-ranking person's time for nothing."
With the other officers swaying, the man had no choice.
"Fine. I don't buy it, but we'll make contact. But if it's a lie, you won't get off easy. No one cares if a criminal loses a limb or two."
Even his grim threat couldn't intimidate Philomel.
Relief spread through her at having averted the crisis for now.
With only two siblings, Lexion would naturally think of her when they asked about a sister.
All that remained was hoping he'd play along with minimal improvisation.
"Hey, you there. Go to the Magic Tower and check if this woman's—"
"No need."
"Captain!"
Someone who had just entered cut off the man issuing orders. If they called him Captain, it must be the Security Chief.
"Someone who knows the fake Princess has arrived. We can just ask them and settle this."
Her mind went blank.
"They're already here?"
The Security Chief answered one officer's question.
"Yes. They were already on their way here, so they arrived early."
Who could it be? No—whoever it was, if they knew me, I was done for.
'If I'd had just a little more time, I could've slipped away...'
The gods truly weren't on her side.
The sound of multiple footsteps and voices echoed down the narrow corridor.
"This way, please. We locked her up a few hours ago after the report came in. The reporter was a lady named Rozanne Manon—she specifically asked me to pass on her regards."
"Hold on. Locked up? What do you mean by—"
And then Nassar Averyden appeared. He was one of the people Philomel least wanted to see her in this state.
Nassar's eyes locked onto Philomel in the holding cell.
His honey-blond platinum hair gleamed softly under the office lights. Even in the cramped, noisy surroundings, the Young Duke shone.
She turned her head away, wishing she could crawl into a rat hole.
"Your Highness!"
But no miracle occurred where her fiancé wouldn't recognize her.
"You're safe! Thank goodness... I was so, so worried. Why are you in a place like this...? Just wait a moment."
He drew his sword from his waist.
He could have just borrowed the keys, but his aura-wreathed blade sliced through the innocent bars like paper.
As Nassar entered the cell, his gaze fell on Philomel's handcuffed wrists.
"May I have your arms?"
The cuffs snapped in two like paper as well.
"Your Highness. Let's return to the palace together."
He took her cold hand in his, sharing its warmth. The moisture-glistened eyes felt unfamiliar.
'Why is he making that face?'
As if he were genuinely worried for her.
"Um, Young Duke. Do you understand the situation here...?"
The Security Chief was flustered by the bizarre turn of events.
"You're cold, aren't you? Here, wear this."
Ignoring the Chief, the Young Duke gently removed his coat and draped it over Philomel.
Not just the Chief—astonishment spread across everyone's faces there.
The Young Duke Averyden, who was supposed to take custody of the fake Princess and escort her away, was acting completely out of character.
From the circumstances, the woman they'd captured seemed to indeed be Princess Philomel, but his courteous treatment made no sense.
Princess Philomel was a fake, wasn't she? And thus a criminal? Everyone on the streets was saying so, and the newspapers were framing it that way...
Then it hit the Security Chief like lightning.
There had never been a single official directive saying, 'Capture the criminal Princess Philomel.'
It had only ever been orders to find the missing Princess by any means necessary.
That directive, combined with rumors of the real Princess appearing, had naturally morphed into a criminal manhunt.
Looking back, it was oddly unquestioned how they'd misinterpreted it so badly.
'Wait—if the Princess isn't a criminal, what have we done?'
Cold sweat beaded on the Chief's neck.
To mistreat an innocent royal like this—dragging her in and locking her in a cell...
He didn't even want to think beyond that!
It was a crime so grave that execution would be merciful.