~Chapter 37~
At the end of a narrow alley in Lyceum Street.
Leoric stood in front of an old tavern, his face full of tension.
“This is the place I told you about before, right? Just go in and deliver it the same way.”
Strictly speaking, this wasn’t even his first visit. Just as Aisha had said, on the day he was dragged like a dog with her to the Winters estate, they had also stopped here to deliver news.
But still…
‘Ah, it’s always scary no matter when I come! And that bartender is terrifying!’
Unfortunately, Leoric was timid and faint-hearted. Visiting this tavern—the hideout of the underground guild Rune—was the last thing he wanted.
“Huuh… huuuh.”
Standing at the door, Leoric took a deep breath.
Nothing bad will happen.
It went fine last time too.
That’s what he was thinking when suddenly—
The closed door burst open.
And Paul appeared.
“Aaaaagh!”
Startled out of his wits, Leoric screamed and even collapsed onto the dirty ground.
“……”
Paul looked down at him with the most pitiful, disdainful expression. Then he sighed heavily and held out a hand.
“Take it and get up.”
“Th-th-th…”
“Next time, if you have business, don’t waste time lingering at the door. Go straight inside. Unless you want to draw suspicion.”
“Y-yes, yes!”
Grabbing Paul’s hand, Leoric scrambled up and nodded frantically like a madman. Paul led him inside.
The tavern was empty—no customers.
“It’s closed today,” Paul explained, noticing Leoric’s glance.
“As you know, there’s not much time left before the next issue of Sunday’s Exposé must be released.”
That was true. By morning, the sixth Killian Winters special had to be delivered.
They never had much time to work, but this was the tightest schedule yet. That was why even Paul had closed the tavern.
“The manuscript for this issue?”
“H-here it is.”
Without hesitation, Leoric pulled out the envelope he had been clutching tightly to his chest and handed it to Paul.
“I’ll just check it.”
“Y-yes, of course.”
Leoric sat nervously at the bar, pretending to look around the tavern while Paul opened the envelope.
‘I didn’t notice before, but this place really is shabby. Why was it always so crowded? There are plenty of other taverns around.’
His thoughts wandered—
‘And why on earth did my sister ever decide to crawl into a den like this? She really must be crazy. Truly insane.’
But his musings were cut short.
“This…”
Paul frowned deeply as he looked at Leoric.
“Did Lady Aisha really tell you to deliver this?”
“…What?”
“This article?”
“Wh-what’s wrong with it?”
Startled, Leoric jumped up.
“I just received it directly from her at the Winters estate! She told me Duke Killian already checked it too.”
“Duke Killian checked this… article?”
“Yes! He allowed Sunday’s Exposé to continue publishing, but only if he reviews the articles first. Is… is something wrong?”
Paul said nothing for a long while. His expression was strange, as if he couldn’t put his doubts into words. He stroked his chin in thought.
‘I didn’t do anything wrong…’
Leoric trembled, waiting. Finally, Paul spoke.
“Understood.”
“……”
“This manuscript will be printed and distributed tomorrow morning. Work begins immediately.”
“Y-yes, thank you!”
That was all Leoric needed to hear. The moment Paul gave his permission, Leoric bolted out of the tavern like the wind—so fast Paul had no chance to say another word.
“……”
Left alone, Paul reread the manuscript again and again.
And he thought:
‘What is Aisha Ashton planning?’
No—
‘What was Killian Winters thinking, allowing this article to be published?’
Could this be… some new scheme?
But unfortunately, Paul had no authority over Sunday’s Exposé. All he could do was carry out Til’s orders.
‘Still… I don’t like this.’
With a heavy expression, Paul fiddled with the manuscript. But no matter how he worried, the article’s content wouldn’t change.
Meanwhile, having finished her deadline, Aisha felt a rare sense of freedom.
…Of course, not even half as free as usual.
‘He knows I stayed up all night finishing the article, so why make me sit here now?’
Sitting at her designated desk—not a “thinking chair,” but her personal seat—Aisha wore a sour expression.
‘The deadline’s over, and I don’t want to work anymore today. Damn it.’
Still, she knew well: sitting idly only made time pass slower. It was better to do something, anything.
She sighed heavily and reached for her pen—
“When you’re unhappy, just say it, Aisha Ashton.”
Killian’s low voice broke the silence.
“Glaring at me like that… it’s a bit much.”
“……”
“It even makes my stomach feel uneasy.”
“Hah, unbelievable.”
Aisha muttered, looking dumbfounded.
“When did I glare at you? I was only looking. What, are you trying to control my eyes now?”
“If possible, yes. Especially when you were glaring at me earlier.”
Ugh, this crazy man.
Aisha bit her lip in annoyance—then suddenly paused.
‘Wait. If I really want to write about Roselia…’
The person who knows her best is sitting right in front of me.
I’ll never find a better source than this.
Her expression shifted instantly.
“Your endless change of expressions is unsettling, Lady Ashton. What trick are you planning this time?”
“If someone overheard you, they’d think I spend my life scheming.”
“Don’t you?”
Killian blinked in genuine surprise.
“…Forget it.”
Aisha swallowed her irritation and slowly moved her lips.
“I have a few questions. Can I ask them?”
“Questions, hmm…”
Killian’s gaze grew sharp, fixed intently on her.
