Three years later.
Judith tied her fiery red hair into a neat knot and donned a practical cotton dress for ease of movement, then strode energetically through the doors of the Gray Information Exchange.
The receptionist, who had been reading a newspaper, sprang to his feet the moment he saw her face.
“Welcome,” he said with a warm smile. “The Master is expecting you.”
The treatment she received now was a far cry from three years ago, when she first arrived at this place. Back then, she had brazenly demanded to see the Master directly. Since that audacious moment, she had become one of the few key clients allowed to meet him in person.
“Of course,” Judith thought. “All my intel has been accurate so far.”
Before the events of the original story began, she couldn’t act too boldly, but she could still manage to sell bits of information. In fact, the original text occasionally referenced past events in passing, which she could exploit.
There were no game-changing business tips or investment secrets, but there were nuggets of usable information:
“The Barons Palena had tensions that predated their marriage. They will likely divorce someday.”
This was based on the original line: “The Barons Palena ultimately divorced due to tensions that had built before their marriage.”
“The Aten Count’s estate has a secret rose garden, a private hobby of the Count, filled with exquisite varieties.”
This stemmed from: “Since childhood, the Aten Count maintained a secret rose garden on his estate.”
Of course, Judith exercised extreme caution when selling information. She couldn’t risk altering the original storyline; therefore, she leaked only trivial details about extras or minor events.
The information was highly accurate, but the price wasn’t extravagant—just enough to cover the interest on her debts and keep her afloat. Still, the Master valued her reliability, meeting her personally and paying handsomely for her intel.
“Ah, Baroness, you’ve arrived.”
As Judith entered the Master’s room with confidence, he greeted her in person. Holding a bouquet of roses, he spoke gently:
“Happy coming-of-age day.”
Today was Judith’s twentieth birthday, the day she officially became an adult.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, accepting the lavish bouquet that seemed almost excessive for her modest attire. Her smile was radiant.
“But I never told you my birthday.”
“You need to know that to run an information exchange,” he said matter-of-factly. “Besides, your age is hardly a secret, Lady.”
The Master of the Gray Information Exchange.
Judith didn’t know his real name, and she referred to him only as Master. He always wore a mask, so she had no idea what he truly looked like. His gloved hands revealed nothing, and his hair color changed each time she saw him—probably a wig. All she could be certain of was his lean, solid physique.
The Master stared at Judith holding the bouquet and suddenly asked,
“So… how did you figure out my age?”
“I just guessed. How could I know you were still a minor back then?”
He sat back, letting out a hum of disbelief. In truth, Judith didn’t know his exact age; she only inferred that he had been underage three years ago, which matched the narrative of the original story:
“When the fire broke out, the head of the Gray Information Exchange had only recently reached adulthood. He died far too young. Had he lived, the political landscape might have turned out differently.”
Her intuition had proven correct. She still didn’t know his exact age, but he was likely no more than two years older than she was. Considering he had run the exchange while still underage, his abilities must have been extraordinary—if not for the accident that cut his life short in the original story.
“When we grow closer, perhaps you’ll tell me,” he said softly, clearly skeptical of her claim.
“How you acquire such precise intel is still a mystery to me,” he added.
“I’ve been picking up cues everywhere while paying off my debts. That’s really all there is to it,” she replied with a shrug, taking a seat across from him. Her eyes sparkled as she launched into her business.
“Today, I have both sellable and buyable information.”
“Ah,” he said, intrigued. “This is your first time selling information to me, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Today’s information is valuable enough that it should cover the payment in full.”
“Valuable, you say? That piques my curiosity,” he murmured, his voice low and sweet, yet impossible to recall once he turned away. Judith suspected he was using some magical artifact to preserve his secrecy.
“First, what is the information you seek, Lady?” he asked, his tone smooth as silk.
“Ekian Meyus.”
“…Excuse me?”
“I need information on Ekian Meyus.”
Ekian Meyus—mentioned in the original story only as the villainous older brother who had run away and disappeared. A minor prince of the Meyus dukedom, he was known to be talented in many respects. No one knew why he had abandoned his privileged life, nor what he was doing during his absence.
The only certainty was that the Meyus family was desperate to locate their eldest son. Even his younger sibling, potentially a future villain, awaited his return anxiously.
“Hmm.” The Master paused. “You mean the missing minor prince of Meyus, who disappeared five years ago?”
“Not five years yet. Soon, though,” Judith corrected.
According to imperial law, once someone has been missing for five years, a death declaration is issued, and the title naturally passes to the next in line. Reclaiming the position later requires mutual consent and a council of vassals. Since this was a clear case of running away, even if he returned, the council could reject his claim.
“Yes, that’s the same Ekian Meyus. I need information on him.”
The Meyus family wanted to prevent the death declaration at all costs. Though the runaway son was causing them grief, they were determined to preserve his minor prince status. Yet time was running out.
They devised an absurd plan: fabricate a pregnant fiancée and recognize her as the daughter-in-law. The Meyus bloodline had a unique aura; even an unborn child’s essence could reveal its lineage. This would serve as proof that Ekian had been alive recently, buying them time to delay the death declaration.
I’ll take that fake fiancée role, Judith thought, recalling the plan she had pondered for years. Originally assigned to a cruel maid, the scheme would have ruined the young villain’s character, but she intended only to take the money and exit.
The Meyus dukedom, a lifeline that could settle all her debts at once, was thus crucial to her. At the same time, she needed intel on the missing Ekian.
After all, I’ll need at least a little information if I’m going to fake being pregnant by him, she reasoned.
The Master let out a deep sigh at the determined look in her eyes.
“And why are you suddenly curious about this man?”
“Oh,” Judith said casually, choosing to reveal just a little. “I’m… interested.”
“Of course you are, if you’re asking for information. But what kind of interest…” he began, sipping his tea.
“A rational interest,” she interrupted smoothly.
“I have a rational interest in him,” she clarified.
The Master, caught off guard, choked on his tea and sputtered in surprise.
