CHAPTER 145………………………………………………
As soon as the carriage door closed, the three of them let out a deep sigh at the same time.
“Haaah….”
Yulia practically sprawled across her seat, Isaac tipped his head back, and Edmond leaned an arm against the window frame and rested his chin on his hand.
“So… what do we do now?”
Yulia was the first to break the silence.
“They say His Highness the Crown Prince is personally conducting a full investigation on us.”
“…There’s no need to be afraid. We already know how to erase traces of dark magic.”
“That’s not the problem. You know that.”
Isaac cut in from the side.
“That thing we’ve got rotting away in our basement. I haven’t really looked at it since that day, but… it’s a grimoire, right? A seriously dangerous one.”
Edmond recalled the tattered old book of dark magic that Emily had suddenly brought back.
The abomination, seized at an underground auction and kept under tight security, had been sleeping beneath the Walker ducal estate for quite some time now.
“Even a Saint couldn’t detect it.”
“Emily told us herself that Saints are bad at tracking dark-magic residue!”
“At this point, we can’t just move it somewhere else either. If we get caught doing that, it’s truly over.”
At Edmond’s words, Yulia and Isaac sighed deeply once more. They were completely stuck—damned if they did, damned if they didn’t.
“I don’t know… Emily still hasn’t woken up. It’s already been three months since she collapsed.”
“Yeah…”
“…What if she never wakes up?”
Yulia finally voiced the fear they’d all been unable to say out loud.
“Don’t say that.”
Isaac snapped back sharply. But Yulia hadn’t spoken lightly—this was something she’d agonized over for a long time.
“But it’s true. If Emily doesn’t wake up, then there’s no reason for us to keep holding out here.”
“Yulia!”
“With a body that breaks down the moment you get hurt, how are we supposed to last seven more years? At that point, we might as well take Andrea and—”
“And do what? Surrender to those dark mages?”
Isaac’s eyes went wide.
“To the bastards who hurt Emily? The ones who killed Lord Huril and Zeke too?!”
At that, Yulia pressed her lips tightly together.
“…You think I don’t know?”
Her voice trembled as she answered, thin and on the verge of breaking.
“I want to kill every last one of them too! Tearing them limb from limb still wouldn’t be enough! …But revenge isn’t what matters right now. If our family is going to survive together—!”
Knock. Knock.
Someone tapped on the carriage window.
Yulia snapped her mouth shut like a clam. A cold silence filled the carriage.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound came again. Edmond shot the others a warning look, then pulled aside the curtain and opened the window.
“Ah—good day, Duke Walker.”
“…What brings the young lord of House Arcmone here?”
It was Heraise Arcmone, the older brother of Juri—the girl Andrea adored more than life itself.
He slicked back his flame-red hair and wore an impeccably tailored ceremonial outfit, clearly having put real thought into his appearance for entering the imperial palace.
“Ahem. I know it’s rude to intrude while you’re spending time with your family, but I have something urgent to discuss.”
“I don’t believe we have anything to discuss with House Arcmone. If you have something to say, the Duke of Arcmone himself should come.”
As Edmond moved to shut the window, Heraise hurriedly stopped him.
“W-wait! …Are you really planning to comply obediently with His Highness’s investigation?!”
“…….”
That was a rather interesting topic.
Edmond paused with the window half-closed and looked at Heraise.
“As you heard in the meeting just now… this investigation will mainly target House Arcmone and House Walker. Isn’t it obvious? Using the war as an excuse to suppress the aristocratic faction and make an example of us.”
An age-old tactic—nothing surprising about it.
Whenever war broke out, power inevitably concentrated in the imperial family. Striking while holding the sword to secure future advantage was Politics 101.
“So?”
“…Surely House Walker has at least one thing you’d rather not show the imperial family.”
That was certainly true. Though to be precise, it wasn’t just one thing—it was one dark mage, three zombies, and a terrifying grimoire.
“The nobles are planning to gather to respond to the imperial family’s movements. …If you’re interested, please contact me here.”
With that, Heraise slid a slip of paper with a scrying-orb number into the carriage.
He took a few steps away, then turned back.
“And, um… to the young lady of House Walker—”
“Me?”
Yulia answered from inside, and Heraise looked startled.
“No—uh, I mean… when Lady Emily wakes up, please give her my regards.”
It was an unexpected remark. Heraise and Emily hadn’t had much contact.
Yet somehow, the words were deeply comforting.
When she wakes up.
It sounded like something said by someone who was certain she would.
“…I will.”
Edmond replied simply, choosing not to add anything more.
It was his way of saying that he, too, had no doubt Emily would return.
“Then I’ll take my leave. Pardon the intrusion.”
Only after watching Heraise truly disappear did Edmond close the window.
“Tch. Stating the obvious.”
Isaac grumbled for no reason, lips pushed into a sulk, eyes faintly red.
And not long after—
The coachman delivered urgent news from the ducal estate.
Emily had woken up.
Moments later, the coachman learned, for the first time in his life, what it meant for one’s “eyebrows to be blown back.”
The carriage was racing at full speed.
“Lady Emily has regained consciousness.”
At Werner’s words, Tristan’s fountain pen froze mid-motion. Ink splattered across the elegant script on the page.
“Oh dear.”
Werner immediately pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it.
As Tristan wiped the ink from his fingers, his gaze lingered on the embroidery left behind.
Ah—right. This handkerchief was one Emily had given him.
Werner suddenly felt like a man caught having an affair with his lord’s woman. Of course, neither he nor Tristan had such a relationship with Emily, but still.
“I received it as thanks for helping her earlier. Haha.”
He added the excuse awkwardly.
“Shall I prepare the carriage?”
With news like this, he assumed they’d head straight to House Walker.
But Tristan’s response completely defied expectations.
“No. It’s fine.”
“…Pardon?”
Werner’s eyes widened.
“Have you not been desperately waiting for Lady Emily to wake? You even attended dawn prayer services, completely unlike yourself. What reason could you possibly—”
“Werner. There’s going to be a large-scale investigation targeting the nobles.”
“Yes, I heard. Did you see how many faces turned red in that meeting earlier?”
How kind of them, really—to give advance notice before starting the investigation.
A courtesy, allowing people to hide what they could. Of course, anything too big to clean up in a few days would still be caught.
“Is it because this will put you at odds with House Walker?”
“They won’t be pleased about the search either.”
“No. It’s not just that.”
Tristan let out a deep sigh. If that were all, it would have been easier.
He was used to acting shamelessly in front of people who hated him. What truly unsettled him was something else entirely.
“…A secret carriage purchase not listed in any records. The ability to track remnants of dark magic. And now their estate was attacked, and one of the Prophet’s descendants was killed.”
As Tristan continued, Werner understood exactly where this was heading.
“When heading to the Tower of Nyx, while staying at the Holy See, and even at the Frostwood Forest and the Walker estate.”
Werner’s mouth fell open.
“Can all of this… really be coincidence?”
Tristan clenched the handkerchief embroidered with Emily’s initials.
“If Emily is not merely an innocent victim… if that possibility remains, even slightly… then meeting her now would only deepen the confusion.”
The moment he finished speaking, Werner responded immediately.
“My goodness, Your Highness.”
He studied Tristan’s expression carefully. It looked the same as ever, but beneath it he could sense confusion, despair—and sorrow.
“…Are you suspecting Lady Emily?”
“…….”
Tristan did not answer.
Paradoxically, that silence was answer enough.
Meanwhile, at House Walker—where they were suspected of grave crimes…
“Now then, today’s topic in the family court is: ‘Why does Emily Walker consistently treat her own life as worth less than dirt?’”
Holding a spoon like a megaphone, Yulia thrust it toward Emily, who was tightly bound to the bed.
“Defendant, do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“Mmmph—mmph!”
You’d have to untie her mouth first for that. Emily’s desperate voice failed to reach anyone, dissolving into the air.
…The trial for Emily’s sins was well underway.
