"…Who are you?"
Matyos kept his voice as casual as he could manage, but cold sweat was already trickling down the back of his neck.
"Good question."
The golden-haired woman laughed softly.
Her hand drifted slowly across his right shoulder.
Then it slid over to his left.
As if she were toying with him.
"Who could it be?"
"…I have no idea."
"Would it help if I said I'm the owner of what you stole?"
Matyos looked away.
At that instant, her fingers pressed firmly into his trapezius.
"My, what a brazen little thief."
The woman smiled.
Her mask was a masquerade half-mask, covering only her eyes and nose.
The lower half of her face was exposed.
Soft, rose-pink lips curved in a playful arc.
But that smile was far too familiar.
Strangely elegant, yet unmistakably mocking.
Matyos finally let his head drop.
"…I'm sorry."
"Now why would someone do something worth being sorry for."
She leaned in slowly.
Her lips were right beside his ear when she whispered.
"Did you really think you wouldn't get caught? Hm?"
Her voice was gentle.
Which made it all the more terrifying.
Matyos said nothing.
Opening his mouth now would be like pouring oil on a fire — he was certain of it.
The woman glanced down at the top of his head.
"Did you change your hair?"
Matyos flinched.
Her fingers lightly touched his chin.
"Your eye color too."
Blue eyes, at the moment.
"Black hair and blue eyes."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Not entirely unbecoming."
Matyos still said nothing.
The woman swept her hair back with the back of her hand.
Golden locks swayed softly beneath the light.
"…Then you changed everything too, didn't you, Sister?"
His sister had golden hair and blue eyes.
"Same as you. I can hardly show my true face in a place like this."
She shook the inside of her golden hair with the back of her hand.
The brilliant blonde shimmered as it settled.
"So. Why are you here?"
"…I'm sorry."
"Yes, you should be. Who would have thought the eldest son of Moretti had such sordid tastes."
"…Would you believe me if I said I had a reason?"
This was a matter of my dignity.
I absolutely had to make her understand.
"I'll hear that later. For now, let's get out of this filthy place first."
Sister grabbed me under the arm and hauled me to my feet.
"Ofilienne."
Magistrate Nikollas called out to her as she turned to leave.
He had recognized Matyos as well. There was no way he could have failed to recognize the Ofilienne he'd met before.
And in his memory, Ofilienne had left a far deeper impression than Matyos ever had.
The refinement that radiates from the uppermost tier of nobility is not easily concealed.
Nikollas's eyes narrowed.
"It would be rather inconvenient if word got out that a daughter of one of the empire's most distinguished noble houses had come to a place like this."
Ofilienne smiled.
"What a pleasant surprise. Magistrate Nikollas."
Then she tilted her head ever so slightly.
"But wouldn't it be just as inconvenient for you, if your own identity were revealed?"
The corner of Nikollas's mouth twisted almost imperceptibly.
"Deflecting, are we?"
"If you have something to say, say it. Don't dance around it so tediously — that's rather beneath you."
"Hm. So that's how it's going to be."
Nikollas stroked his beard.
"Then I'll be direct. Have cash ready at the location I send you. Do that, and your reputation will remain intact."
"There. Isn't that so much easier when you just threaten me openly? No need to put on that unconvincing show of magnanimity."
Ofilienne let a naked sneer settle on her lips. She gave a small nod.
Nikollas's brow twitched with displeasure.
"…Fine. Though I trust you already know what happens if the money doesn't arrive."
"You're more of a coward than I expected."
"Just make sure you keep your word."
After exchanging that glance with Nikollas, Sister took hold of my wrist and walked toward the entrance.
Tight.
Her grip on my wrist was strong.
"By the way……"
"…Ugh."
"Do you like women that much?"
"What?"
Where did that come from.
"Were you so desperate to have a woman that you'd steal from your own sister to get one?"
She turned her head slightly, watching him from the corner of her eye.
The look in her gaze was cold — cold enough to be dangerous.
A chill ran down his spine.
"So you're just being a man, is that it? You could have simply told me, you know. Did you really have to come to a vulgar place like this and play around with vulgar women?"
Something about that phrasing was off.
Tell Sister, and she'd what, exactly?
What was she going to do about it?
The question flickered through his mind, but he nodded along to keep the peace.
"When we get back to school, come to my room immediately."
Please, please let this amount to nothing.
"…I'm sorry."
"Now what."
"You're going to have to spend money because of me."
"That? I'm not paying."
"…You're not paying?"
"Did you actually think I was going to?"
Sister shot a sidelong glance at Nikollas as she spoke.
"I'm going to leak it to the press first. This sort of thing is like a turn-based fight, Mati. What matters is who fires first."
"…."
A villainess was a villainess, through and through.
She had never had any intention of keeping her word to Nikollas from the start.
Just then, the red-suited manager who had been directing guests in the hall came scurrying over to Chechilron.
Chechilron, who had been in the middle of the auction and was furious at the interruption, was mid-shout when the manager leaned in and whispered something — and he went abruptly silent.
"…My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I regret to interrupt your evening's entertainment, but a rat has found its way into our auction house."
He was trembling.
"A rat has broken into our establishment and made off with something precious to me. I must ask, with deepest regrets, that none of you leave until the rat has been caught."
The guests in the auction hall spent a moment doubting their own ears.
"The rat did not come alone, I am certain. An accomplice must be among you here. The time of entry to our establishment is printed only on the invitations, after all."
But when they saw the black-suited men who had moved to block the exits on Chechilron's orders, they grasped the situation.
"What the hell is this! You're saying we can't leave?!"
"Your rat or whatever the hell it is — that's your problem! What does any of that have to do with me?!"
"Do you know who I am?! Get those bastards out of my way right now!"
The guests in the auction hall were not ordinary people.
They were nobles and successful merchants.
People with a certain pride — and being locked in and treated as potential criminals did not sit well with them.
"What kind of absolute bullshit is this! Feeding off our money and now pulling this."
A guest with a thick, unkempt beard shot to his feet.
He tore off his mask and jabbed a finger at Chechilron, bellowing at the top of his lungs.
"What does your precious whatever-it-is have to do with any of us? What, did your beloved whore get sick of looking at your face and make a run for it—"
Bang!
A gunshot rang out.
The guest crumpled straight backward.
Blood burst from his chest.
Chechilron's hand was shaking violently.
"Don't you dare talk about my Emily like that!!"
His eyes had rolled completely.
Chechilron stood there, gun still raised in his trembling hand, gnawing at his lower lip.
White smoke curled from the barrel.
He huffed and snorted like an enraged pig.
His eyes swept left and right as he ground his teeth.
"…Come out. Whoever took my Emily — come out now!!"
Sister watched Chechilron screaming alone and shook her head slowly.
"You did all this for that?"
Her voice was perfectly even.
"For this Emily girl?"
"Yeah…."
Matyos answered quietly.
The corner of Ofilienne's mouth twisted.
"Ha."
She laughed — the laugh of someone who found it beneath contempt.
"What a remarkably romantic reason."
I looked away from her eyes and turned toward the stage.
This time, an elderly man was waving a cane and shouting.
"You wretch…! Do you know who I am?! I am a noble who serves His Majesty the Emperor! Do you truly believe you can kill me and walk away from this alive?!"
"I don't care, as long as I find Emily."
"You absolute madman…!"
The black-suited men encircling the guests drew their weapons.
But something about them was deeply wrong.
Black veins stood out visibly across their skin, and their bodies shuddered in intermittent, convulsive spasms.
"Honestly. The trouble I get dragged into because of someone."
"I was trying to leave quickly."
But Sister grabbed me and slowed everything down.
He swallowed the rest of that thought.
"Are you blaming me right now?"
"…No?"
"At least put some effort into your lies."
Sister yanked hard on his ear, then scanned their surroundings.
Quistian had appeared from somewhere and was standing nearby.
"My Lady. Be cautious. These are no ordinary men. And good evening, Young Lord."
"…How long have you been here?"
She spoke.
"Quistian was the one tailing you from the start. You stole my invitation and I wanted to see what you were up to, so I had him follow you."
He hadn't noticed at all.
'Did you know, Shu?'
'Hm? I was napping on your shoulder.'
Regardless.
"So… what are we going to do?"
"We're not planning to stay here forever, so we leave. You're asking the obvious."
Sister walked toward the door with complete composure.
Bang!
A bullet flew and buried itself in the floor at her feet.
"You two. I've had my eye on you. You swept up all those dolls for a laughably small amount of money."
His eyes flashed.
His finger pointed at Matyos.
"You — did you actually have that money? Or was this all a scheme to get Emily out?!"
His face said he'd already made up his mind.
Matyos answered briefly.
"That's right."
"I won't kill you. I need to ask you where Emily is…! Grab that bastard and break every limb he has!"
The black-suited men closed in.
Sister watched them with calm eyes.
"Quistian."
"Yes, My Lady."
Swish!
Quistian's hand swept through the air.
Daggers whirred through the room and pierced the skulls of a dozen or more men.
Not one missed.
Every single dagger found its mark in a black-suited man's head.
Dozens dispatched in an instant.
"Ghhk….!"
Chechilron's face went scarlet.
He fired at Quistian, but Quistian batted the bullets aside with his daggers.
Click. Click.
Empty.
Chechilron threw the gun to the floor and pulled something from inside his coat.
It looked like a black heart — a dark, pulsing orb.
He stared at it for a moment, then crushed it.
Crack!
The air changed.
Black Demonic Energy rose like heat shimmer and seeped into the black-suited men Quistian had killed.
Ghhrrk….
And then the corpses — daggers still lodged in their skulls — began to rise.
"Undead, as I suspected."
The dead that would not stay dead.
The very essence of the most abominable dark magic.
And it had appeared here.
Shhhk!
Thwack! Thwack!
Quistian hurled daggers like lightning.
But the Undead walked on, utterly indifferent.
"Aaaaaagh!"
"Wh-what is that! Get away from me!"
No sense of self-preservation whatsoever.
The Undead latched onto whichever guests were nearest and sank their teeth in.
Screams and shrieks erupted everywhere.
"Mati, get behind me."
Sister, who had been watching quietly, unfolded her arms.
A few of the creatures had gone for the guests, but a great many more Undead were still tightening their circle around them.
Crackle.
Ashen Lightning flickered and danced around her.
She extended one finger.
Crack-crack-crack!
A bolt of lightning shot forward like a thrown spear and punched straight through an Undead.
It crumbled to ash. A complete and final death — no coming back from that.
"I'll handle all of this, so you just stay—"
Whoosh!
Jet-black flames engulfed an Undead.
Matyos shook his hand to snuff out the small fire clinging to it.
"Don't worry about me. I've got this."
And he set another Undead ablaze.
When had he grown like this?
The boy who had always come looking for her — he no longer needed her help.
Ofilienne felt an inexplicable hollowness settle in her chest as she called down another bolt of lightning.
"…Don't come crying to me when you get hurt."