Chapter 44
“…A button?”
“Don’t you think the engraved pattern is a bit unusual?”
Leraje studied the button closely. The symbol carved into it was incomprehensible, yet crafted with meticulous precision.
“It’s not a noble crest, but the workmanship is flawless. This isn’t something an ordinary person would use.”
The two searched further, but unfortunately, the trail led out onto the main road, and no more traces could be found.
The heavy foot traffic had erased the lingering aura.
“Still, we’ve uncovered an important clue. That alone makes this worthwhile.”
Calliope turned back with a satisfied smile.
“See? I told you there’d be traces.”
“Yeah.”
He gave only a brief reply, but inwardly Leraje couldn’t help admiring her tenacity.
Amazing.
Another person might have overlooked or given up on such subtle evidence. But not her—she had pursued it relentlessly.
And she had done it herself.
I thought she was too proud to ever get her hands dirty.
Leraje began to wonder if perhaps he had been wrong about her.
“What are you staring at so intently?”
Noticing his gaze, she tilted her head.
“Just thinking… I must have landed myself quite the extraordinary partner.”
“Took you long enough to figure that out.”
At her playful jab, he chuckled softly and reached out his hand.
“Shall we head back, then?”
She looked down at his large palm for a moment before cautiously resting her fingers against it.
“Alright—ah!”
The contact lasted only a second before her body tilted backward. Leraje had swept her up in his arms, one hand beneath her knees, the other bracing her back.
Startled, Calliope instinctively flung her arms around his neck. Leraje gave a low, amused laugh.
“Feels stable. Hold on tight.”
With a powerful kick, he launched them into the air.
Cradled against his chest, Calliope leaned carefully into him as he bounded across rooftops like a creature of flight.
The sleeping domain blurred past beneath them, the height dizzying.
Perhaps that was why Calliope’s heart seemed to beat just a little faster than usual.
“Damn it, this was the perfect chance…”
Gilbert ground his teeth, unable to conceal his frustration.
That damned Second Prince.
He had begged him to accompany him to the territory, but the man had refused, claiming it would be troublesome.
At the very least, he could have provided the royal gate pass quickly—but instead it had taken over two full days before Gilbert finally obtained one.
And after all that, what did he find upon arriving? His niece, Calliope, racking up achievements left and right, adored and praised by the people.
Worse yet, he had almost had his tail stepped on, nearly ruining everything.
All this trouble—and it’s because of him!
If not for the intervention of another benefactor, he would have lost everything beyond recovery.
“I didn’t come all this way just to give up now.”
“Good resolve.”
“Gah!”
Gilbert jerked at the sudden voice. A man had appeared without warning, his skin a deep bronze unlike that of any Imperial.
“Wh-what are you doing, appearing like that?!”
The stranger regarded him with a flat expression. His ashen gray eyes, devoid of emotion, fixed on Gilbert, sending a chill down his spine.
Gilbert forced down the unease and cleared his throat.
“Ahem. So… did your matter go smoothly?”
“Yes. Thanks to your help, it was resolved well.”
The man bowed respectfully. Gilbert straightened, puffing out his chest.
“Exactly! If I hadn’t passed along Calliope’s plan, you’d all have been caught, wouldn’t you?”
The man placed a pouch of gold coins at his feet. Gilbert’s eyes lit up instantly.
“My master has high expectations of you, Baron.”
“Leave that to me!”
Gilbert’s gaze clung greedily to the glittering coins. The man, watching without expression, continued evenly:
“We’ll be wrapping up here soon and pulling out. The order is to wait until further contact.”
Gilbert’s head snapped up.
Mining magestones was like striking gold—why abandon it so easily?
“What? So suddenly? That makes no sense—”
“Until next time.”
“W-wait just a—!”
Gilbert reached out desperately, but the man had already vanished.
The messenger who had delivered his master’s orders cut through the darkness, scaling a rough, pathless mountain.
He pressed forward through thorny undergrowth and branches that clawed at his body.
After some time, he reached a small clearing—rare flat ground in the midst of rugged terrain. A modest tent stood there.
He stepped inside, bowed low, and presented a heavy pouch.
“The last batch of magestones, my lord.”
The man before him accepted it.
“Well done.”
After the brief praise, the silver-haired master spoke again.
“It’s time we withdrew.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I thought we’d have more leeway… but it seems Viscountess Verdi is more capable than expected.”
His eyes narrowed briefly as he considered the comparison, then relaxed.
“In any case, tie up the loose ends cleanly. No traces.”
“Yes, my lord.”
As the subordinate departed, the silver-haired man’s crimson eyes glimmered ominously in the dark.
“At last, we’ve reached the capital!”
The carriage rolled smoothly along the paved road, just past the city walls.
Calliope, sighing about her exhaustion, made Leraje chuckle.
“You worked like a complete workaholic, and now you’re complaining?”
“Being a workaholic doesn’t mean I’ve got unlimited stamina.”
She shot him a sharp look, then added:
“Still, it was worth it. The territory issue’s resolved, and whoever was behind it will think twice before moving again—at least for now.”
She fiddled with the button as Leraje asked:
“So, have you decided what to do with the magestones?”
“First thing is to mine the deposits underground. More jobs mean we can take in more people for the territory.”
He nodded.
“If you need help, just say so. I’ll back you up if I can.”
“Really?”
Her eyes widened.
“You won’t go back on your word later?”
“Calliope Verdi.”
Leraje laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back lazily.
“Do you know what nickname I had back when I did mercenary work?”
“What? You were a mercenary too? Honestly, you’ve done everything.”
“I went looking for all the jobs no one else wanted—dangerous ones, dirty ones, the kind people cursed you for.”
He smirked mischievously.
“Anyway, my nickname was this: ‘The Hound Who Works for His Pay.’”
“What?”
Calliope frowned deeply. Leraje replied without missing a beat.
“It means I’ll work as much as I’ve been paid. You gave me magestones, so I’ll do my part.”
“You always have to put things in the most—ugh.”
But then she froze.
For just a fleeting instant, a shadow crossed Leraje’s face—an expression she had never seen before.
It was as if he were dredging up a memory of profound despair and exposing it for the world to see.
And then it was gone. So quickly, she wondered if she’d imagined it.
Maybe I’m just too tired…
As she hesitated, Leraje spoke again.
“You were saying? The worst thing in the world is stopping halfway through a sentence. And the second worst—”
“You always turn things like that into jokes! Enough already!”
Just then, the carriage arrived at the Verdi estate. Calliope hopped down at once.
Leraje was left alone in the carriage, watching her skirts sway as she strode off.
“….”
Recalling her flustered, slightly indignant expression, he murmured softly to himself:
“It wasn’t a joke.”
Words meant only for himself—words that would likely never reach her.
