CHAPTER 25
When they stepped out of the office, a waiting attendant guided them to their lodgings.
“I will escort you to the Trieng.”
The moment he heard that, Leonhardt, who had been maintaining his composure, stiffened.
“His Highness must be quite angry.”
“Is there a problem?”
“You’ll see.”
“Please don’t misunderstand, my lord.”
The attendant bowed his head apologetically.
“His Highness personally chose Trieng because it allows free movement, making it convenient for your mission. If you are uncomfortable, I can submit a report to have it changed.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Leonhardt replied coldly.
“We’re only staying for about a week. No need to change it.”
Finally, they arrived at their destination.
Celine’s eyes widened. Before them stood a small, pretty brick house—charming, but completely out of place in the grandeur of the palace.
Leonhardt muttered quietly beside her.
“Of all rooms, he gave us Trieng. Even the imperial attendants don’t stay here.”
“I like it.”
And she meant it.
When she heard Leonhardt complaining earlier, she had imagined some half-collapsed shack.
Or worse, a stable.
But the Trieng was a lovely two-story brick house. The lack of resident attendants didn’t bother her at all.
Leonhardt’s expression softened.
“…Then that’s good.”
A week passed since they arrived at the Crown Prince’s Palace.
Celine genuinely enjoyed life at Trieng. Living in a modest house instead of a massive castle or mansion felt refreshing.
“Lady Celine Lute, all you have to do now is place the dough into the oven.”
Following Danny’s instruction, she placed the dough into the oven and shut the door.
They technically had a dedicated chef preparing their meals, so baking wasn’t necessary.
But Celine wanted to seize the chance to try baking.
After a while, Danny tasted the steaming bread and grimaced.
“You have absolutely no talent for cooking, milady. But that’s fine! You’re a powerful mage!”
Celine accepted the bread with a smile and took a big bite. She had followed Danny’s instructions exactly—how bad could it be?
Turns out, Danny wasn’t exaggerating.
“…You’re right.”
“Well, if you simply wiggle your fingers, a chef will bring you every kind of bread imaginable. Don’t be discouraged.”
—Bang!
Someone burst into the room. Celine sighed and turned. Leonhardt stormed toward her, eyes blazing.
“What did Prince Ricardo say this time?”
“He finally set a date.”
A week.
According to the Crown Prince’s promise, the investigation should have already been completed.
But his close aides kept dodging Leonhardt.
“What, the Montgomery Marquis— or is it Montgomary— isn’t going to suddenly be bedridden with a fever again, right?”
“Montgomery. And this time, it’s definite.”
Leonhardt began explaining the conversation he’d had with the Crown Prince an hour earlier.
Yesterday, after riding all day to Montgomery Manor, he was told the Marquis was bedridden with a severe cold and refused to meet anyone.
Treasurer Krellin had left for a business trip to the South.
Leonhardt only learned that after barging into his office.
Countess Viera had shut herself away because her child had scarlet fever.
Knight Commander Pavel Dehaka refused him at the door, saying he had an honor-bound duel scheduled.
Others made similar excuses to avoid being seen.
If they rejected him from the beginning, that would be one thing, but making excuses only after he had spent time traveling to their residences was downright disrespectful.
“Is the investigation going well?”
“Your Highness knows better than anyone how it’s going!”
The Crown Prince narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t get worked up. I brought you here to resolve this.”
“…”
Leonhardt bit back his words—anything else might result in being charged with treason.
“I know they’re avoiding you.”
The prince’s voice was flat.
“But understand—it’s not pleasant for them, and not pleasant for me, either.”
Leonhardt struggled to stay calm but failed.
“…I don’t want to be doing this, either.”
“I know, I know.”
The prince smiled.
“I don’t resent you. Now, take a look at this.”
He handed Leonhardt a long parchment. Leonhardt skimmed it rapidly.
“Your Highness, this is…”
His voice trembled.
“Did you get everyone’s consent?”
“They were all eager to agree.”
The document was simple:
All the prince’s close aides would gather in the palace ballroom at the same time to undergo Lashir’s judgment.
Leonhardt frowned. Yes, it was the fastest and simplest way.
But there was a reason he had insisted on meeting them individually.
“If there really is a dark mage among them…”
“Then all of my people will be put at risk.”
Leonhardt looked up. The prince stared at him like a hawk eyeing prey.
“Tell me this. If I suspected a dark mage was among them, would I propose such a plan?”
“Of course not, Your Highness, I—”
Leonhardt realized he had slipped.
The prince didn’t miss that opening.
“Then how about this: what if there is a dark mage among them? Wouldn’t they try to object?”
“No—if they objected, they’d reveal themselves.”
“Unless they convinced a few others to object as well.”
The prince stared him down.
“In any case—check for yourself. I’m not concerned. None of them are dark mages.”
Leonhardt stood and bowed.
The prince said nothing else, but his sharp gaze followed Leonhardt all the way out.
“…That’s what happened.”
Leonhardt finished, sighing.
Celine summarized cleanly:
“So, Prince Ricardo is gambling.”
“Yes.”
“What do you think? Is he right?”
“How would I know?”
Leonhardt fell deep into thought.
“But he definitely isn’t involved with dark magic. That’s what the Emperor fears most.”
“Prince Ricardo is reckless.”
“He always has been.”
Leonhardt nodded.
“Well, I’m used to being dragged into danger—but I didn’t expect him to put his closest aides at risk.”
Celine’s eyes widened.
“Why does that not matter?”
Leonhardt blinked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why doesn’t it matter that you get dragged into danger?”
“Well…”
He stammered—then stopped. Celine flared up.
“Because you’re used to it? Because you’re strong? You get hurt too, Leonhardt! If you’re immortal like me, let me know. I’d love to take notes.”
“N-No—”
Celine didn’t let him finish.
“So since I can’t die, I should be the one risking myself instead of you?”
“…Absolutely not.”
“Then you shouldn’t be risking yourself either. Prince Ricardo is wrong.”
Leonhardt stared down at her, shocked. Anyone else would be arrested for treason for speaking like that.
He had to force the words from deep inside.
“…Thank you.”
“I didn’t say it to be thanked. You were just being ridiculous.”
Celine pointed to the bread on the table.
“Danny baked it. Eat it and reflect on your life choices.”
Leonhardt took a bite and immediately knew who had baked it.
“It’s not bad.”
“Really?”
Celine’s face lit up instantly.
“I don’t lie about food. People who like sweet things might not enjoy it, but it’s simple and pleasant.”
Salt crystals crunched in his mouth—but somehow, it tasted sweet.
The promised day finally arrived.
“Do you really have to go?”
“I’ll be bored alone.”
Her answer sounded light, but both of them knew the real reason.
There were thirty-three aides.
If they were all innocent, fine.
But if even one revealed themselves as a dark mage…
Not even Leonhardt could protect thirty-two hostages while fighting.
He nodded, and Celine began preparing.
It was an unofficial banquet, so she needed appropriate attire.
Danny immediately brought out a corset.
“I know you dislike it, but you must wear it.”
“If I wear it, I’ll die…”
Her voice trailed off.
“…”
Danny silently put the corset away and pulled out a long velvet dress instead.
Two hours later, Celine stepped into the living room—Leonhardt was waiting in formal attire.
Her mouth fell open. The deep green uniform embroidered with gold showed off his broad shoulders and strong build. The gold embellishments highlighted his sculpted features.
He snapped her back to reality.
“Well?”
“It… it’s hard to move.”
She fiddled with the heavy, jewel-covered necklace.
She loved beautiful dresses, but the thought of danger ruined the mood.
“We’ll order something more comfortable before we return. Tailors here are quite skilled.”
Just then, horses whinnied outside—the carriage had arrived.
He held out his hand.
“Shall we, milady?”
Once inside the ballroom, Celine felt as if she were entering a museum.
Murals covered every wall, floor, and ceiling, and ornate sculptures filled the room.
Despite the size, only thirty-five people were present. No orchestra. No attendants.
Because no one outside these people could witness what was about to happen.
Leonhardt confirmed all thirty-three aides had arrived. He exhaled in relief.
“When will you begin, Lord Leonhardt?”
A sarcastic voice sounded. Montgomery Marquis. Leonhardt smirked.
The man looked perfectly healthy for someone allegedly bedridden days ago.
“Marquis Montgomery. Glad to see you recovered.”
“I’m not fully well yet. But His Highness called—I have no choice.”
He stroked his pale goatee with one hand and extended the other toward Leonhardt.
No one saw Lashir’s blade leave its scabbard—only Celine sensed the flash across the Marquis’s left hand.
“Aaaargh!”
He collapsed, clutching his hand.
“Hrgh—!”
Leonhardt checked the back of his hand: a tiny wound, a drop of blood.
He straightened.
“Marquis Montgomery’s innocence has been proven.”
Silence crashed over the ballroom.
Only the Marquis’s screams echoed.
Countess Viera went pale.
“How long… does the pain last?”
“It varies, but within thirty minutes, it stops completely.”
“…”
Eyes clenched shut, she extended her hand.
Moments later, she screamed as well.
Thirty minutes.
That was how long it took Leonhardt to prove the innocence of everyone in the ballroom—except himself and Celine.
The ballroom was filled with screams.
“…Satisfied now, Lord Leonhardt?!”
Montgomery shouted through gritted teeth.
“You see? We’re all innocent!”
And then—
Celine’s clear voice rang out.
“One person is missing, Leonhardt.”
