Chapter 11
Zion Reinhardt von Kleist. Chief of the Intelligence Bureau and an S-Class Transcendent.
Silver hair and violet eyes. A cold-hearted beauty in cool tones.
A ruthless personality. Brutal hands. A master of torture.
He was the typical “but he’s warm only to his woman” type in a reverse harem game.
While organizing information about Zion in her mind, Odette sipped the warm tea in the parlor. Her soaked dress had left her body cold, so the tea helped warm her up.
Zion glared at her.
“Do you realize the Crown Prince nearly went berserk because of your schemes? If it weren’t for Charlotte’s pleas, I would’ve taken the time to sever your limbs piece by piece.”
Compared to the vivid memories of her past life, even Zion’s current look of disgust felt warm to Odette. Thanks to that, she could savor the tea without the slightest tremble.
Zion lit a cigar.
“Thank you for saving His Highness, Albrecht.”
‘Even his gratitude sounds rude from the get-go.’
He exhaled a puff of smoke.
“Did you really have to come to the imperial palace looking like that?”
Through his monocle, the marquis’s sharp gaze swept over her attire. Her dress was a mess of blood and cobwebs picked up while exiting the secret passage.
Odette casually brushed off his disgusted expression.
‘Even if I’d come dressed like a porcelain doll, he’d have made that same face.’
Clothing wasn’t the issue. Zion had always treated her like filth.
“How embarrassing to have my outfit criticized by such a gentleman, Marquis.”
Of course, she wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed. She’d been seen in far worse states while being hunted in her past life. Why care now?
Her reply was meant to be cutting.
A veiled jab: “A true gentleman knows it’s impolite to comment on a lady’s attire.”
Zion, catching her implication, chuckled as he blew out another puff of smoke.
“Amazing. I didn’t think Lady Albrecht even knew what shame was.”
Grinding his cigar between his teeth, Zion dropped a stack of documents onto the tea table. It was what Odette had sent through Lise.
“A person who knows shame sends a human trafficking contract in broad daylight? You’re not at all ashamed of making money through crime?”
“……”
“Oh, was it a show of power? That no one uses exemption privileges quite as shrewdly as you?”
Irritated, Zion stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray and stretched his long legs, propping them on the glass table.
Even that rude gesture somehow looked elegant in its laziness. His behavior was crude, but the aura was noble — the dissonance was intimidating.
‘He’s the perfect interrogator. A commoner would see him as oppressive, a noble as a disgraceful brute.’
“Your request for a private audience was arrogant, too. Trying to bribe an informant? Do I look that idle to you? That you could bait me with such absurd lies?”
“Despite that, Your Excellency responded to my arrogant request. That alone is enough for me.”
As Odette maintained her calm smile, Zion frowned.
“You’re a busy man, so let’s get straight to the point. I’d like to go over the documents with you to discuss the informant. Is that all right?”
As she set down her teacup and asked for permission, Zion increased the pressure.
He kicked the stack of papers off the tea table, scattering them across the floor.
“By all means, just as Lady wishes.”
A splendid bit of mockery.
‘What a bastard.’
Suppressing a sigh, Odette bent down to pick up the scattered papers.
Even the most open-minded person would react poorly to a list of crimes too vile to speak aloud.
Zion must have felt the same.
But that didn’t mean she would waver under his intimidation.
‘You think acting like a thug will make me cower?’
Instead, Odette became even more aristocratic in demeanor. Her gaze warned him, as if scolding an ill-mannered servant.
Each page she picked up was done so with grace and precision.
Then Zion dumped another bundle of letters onto her head.
“Thought you’d enjoy picking these up too. They’re the letters you sent.”
‘You miserable bastard.’
Odette endured it. If she got angry now, she wouldn’t reach her goal.
She remained composed, carefully gathering even the fallen letters.
‘What elegant penmanship.’
The letters, supposedly from her, listed astronomical sums.
‘That’s for dresses, jewelry, fine horses, the cost of installing fountains in the mansion. That one’s for Fernand’s drinking tabs and gambling debts.’
All bills for extravagant luxuries. She really had gorged herself shamelessly.
Once Odette neatly organized the stack, she handed them back to Zion.
“How much do you think you know about me, Your Excellency?”
“You might as well ask me to count the grains of sand in the Erbin Desert. There’s nothing I don’t know about you.”
Zion sneered, eyes full of contempt. In her past life, he had torn into her just like this.
“Maybe it’s for the best you’re silent. If you tried to defend yourself with stupid excuses, I wouldn’t be able to hold back.”
Odette swallowed the humiliation she’d known too well.
‘No matter how I feel about him, I have to win his favor.’
That was the only way to begin her revenge on her family.
The oppressive force of his loathing grew stronger, suffocating. Yet Odette kept a gentle smile for Zion’s sake.
“Then did anyone report to you that I’m illiterate?”
Her fear, resentment, and sorrow were irrelevant. Her emotions held no value — as always.
Violet eyes scanned the woman seated across from him with irritation.
The most beautiful woman in society. Said to be fairy-like in her beauty. But that meant nothing to Zion.
‘That damned artificial rose scent again.’
He felt nothing but disgust toward Odette.
‘And it’s not just the scent — it’s her actions that make me sick.’
Even someone as familiar with human depravity as Zion had to admit: she was a masterpiece of evil.
One of his duties had been to track down every place where her ID had been used. That cursed identification always showed up in the filthiest places.
Where kidnapped children were trafficked as slaves, in gambling dens, in illegal drug labs.
The crimes required cunning no minor should possess. He had dispatched nine informants just to verify it all.
And through repeated cross-checking, it was confirmed — Odette was the worst kind of human.
The documents she sent today were not new. He’d already seen them long ago through those informants’ reports.
‘Impressive, considering her age.’
Then again, criminal genius was often just a matter of being born shameless. It was foolish to assume her young age meant her malice was immature.
He mentally reviewed her profile:
Born frail at the Meursault seaside villa. The precious youngest daughter of the Albrecht Count’s family.
Returned to the Albrecht estate at age six and immediately started behaving like a tyrant. Now, her hobby was draining the royal family dry to fill her wardrobe and jewelry vault.
‘The Count’s reputation isn’t bad, but he clearly failed with his children.’
“My daughter demands twenty diamond mines for every purification. I tried to reason with her, but she’s very firm about it.”
Because of her outrageous demands, no S-Class Transcendent had asked for purification despite their rising contamination.
They’d been relying on berserk delay agents.
The Crown Prince, having sustained serious injuries, nearly lost control.
‘So why purify him now? She always hated the stench of contaminated people anyway.’
He hadn’t planned to entertain her brazen audience request either. But once the number of informants planted in the Albrecht estate matched up perfectly, he couldn’t ignore it.
He had thought she only cared about luxury and indulgence.
“Did anyone report that I’m illiterate?”
And now she comes out with this nonsense.
‘I thought I’d seen the depths of human depravity, but she’s gifted at getting under the skin.’
“How many invoices do you think you’ve sent? The entire Intelligence Bureau could memorize your signature and handwriting. Illiterate? You take after your brother — always pretending when things go bad.”
Emotion control was basic training for the Bureau. But that skill was useless with this woman.
As his anger flared, a terrible mix of loathing and aura burst forth.
But the woman just smiled, as if she felt nothing.
“The handwriting belongs to my mother’s maid, Mrs. Becker.”
“…What?”
“I truly cannot read.”
She gently put down the letter and lifted her teacup with elegance. Her enunciation was perfect.
Her pinky subtly curled, her motion silent — not even a clink. Her actions were flawlessly noble as she declared:
“So? Who reported that lie?”
“…Hah. What kind of ridiculous joke is this?”
The Barchehan Empire used the alphabet, with few exceptions and simple grammar. Even commoners were rarely illiterate.
The marquis, about to scoff again, suddenly fell silent.
Because the woman had placed a memory crystal onto the glass table.
