"Waaaaah!"
"Young lady, that was amazing!"
"To think you actually beat Young Master Abel!"
Listening to the thunderous applause rolling in from every side, I let out a hollow laugh.
*People really do change their tune fast.*
Of course, it wasn't as if any of these people had ever directly bullied or harmed Lyriette the way Cassdia or Abel had.
But that just meant they belonged to the category of bystanders who'd let it all happen without lifting a finger.
Watching them burst into applause the moment Lyriette beat Abel struck me as more than a little absurd.
"Uncle Baal. I won."
"Yes, I saw it clearly. You did wonderfully, my dear niece."
"Ehehe…."
I ruffled Lyriette's hair as she came bounding up to me, praising her, and she squirmed and giggled, positively glowing.
It was hard to believe this was the same young lady who, moments ago, had been beating her own brother senseless without a shred of hesitation.
*So the qualities of a villainess really were lurking inside her after all, huh.*
No—calling it a "quality" would be an insult to Lyriette. It wasn't something she'd wanted for herself.
Just the mindset to cast aside even affection when necessary, to coldly strike down the enemy before her—that alone might be considered a talent that had always been latent within Lyriette.
It's just that, in the original story, it led to a rather twisted ending.
There, the girl who in the end was chosen by no one had been forced to use that very talent to eliminate the obstacles in her path and kill the very person she loved.
*I won't let it end that way this time.*
Not anyone else. Me.
I was making that silent vow to myself when—
"Kukuk…! Kuhahahahaha!"
Abel, who'd been sprawled on the ground, managed to haul himself up and suddenly burst into mad laughter.
Every eye in the training hall turned toward him.
"So that's it. You're mocking me like this, are you? You've been hiding hundreds of snakes in that belly of yours."
"B-Brother? What's wrong with you?"
"Shut up! Don't play innocent! With those innocent-looking eyes of yours, you must have fooled even Lord Craig and Uncle! Trying to hide it from me!"
At the sudden accusation and blame, Lyriette flinched and shrank back, and Abel, emboldened, even went so far as to jab a finger at her.
He looked so unhinged that even the formidable Cassdia could only stare, dumbstruck.
"Abel, calm down. What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Surely you don't intend to childishly refuse to accept the result at this late stage?"
"Yes, I admit it! I lost! But Uncle, do you know? Do you know what kind of vile scheme that girl concocted!"
"Scheme?"
As I twitched my eyes, feigning ignorance, Abel gave a cold smile and picked up the broken handle of his wooden sword.
"Do you see this? This little flower drawn on the underside of my practice sword!"
"That's…."
That murmur came not from me, but from Lyriette.
Clearly, it looked familiar to her. It did to me too.
Because that flower design was a sort of mark Lyriette habitually drew on her own belongings.
So why had it turned up on Abel's practice sword?
Unless you were an idiot, it wasn't hard to figure out, once you thought it through.
"That's right! At some point, that girl swapped her practice sword with mine! That's why my sword ended up breaking in the end!"
"What did you say…!?"
"What's this about switching swords?"
"You idiot, what if the young lady had sawed into the sword beforehand?"
"Ah!"
The murmuring around us grew louder. Even Oden's eyes went wide, as though he hadn't anticipated this, and he turned to look at Lyriette.
"N-No, Uncle. I really didn't do anything…."
Sensing that people's eyes had begun to accuse her, Lyriette shook her head, pleading her innocence to me.
I gently pushed her back.
It wasn't to reject her.
It was simply that from here on, it was my turn, and I wanted to put some distance between us so she wouldn't accidentally interject.
"I see. I understand, Abel. So what you're claiming is that Lyriette damaged her own sword and then swapped it overnight?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Where's your proof?"
"P-Proof? As I just showed you…."
I clicked my tongue and pointed out his confusion.
"That might prove your sword and Lyriette's were switched. But it's no proof that Lyriette broke her sword beforehand, or that she engineered any trickery, is it?"
"What are you talking about! If she hadn't done anything underhanded, why would she have any reason to switch the swords—"
"Couldn't it have happened by chance? Both of you would have practiced yesterday, and left your swords in the training hall afterward. There are easily more than ten practice swords lying around in there. If someone mistakenly picked up the wrong one in the process, there'd be nothing strange about that."
"That's…."
He couldn't very well deny it.
Because that really was what he'd done.
Besides, Lyriette's and Abel's training hours never overlapped. To be precise, Abel refused to use the same space as Lyriette, so whenever she arrived first, he simply went elsewhere.
Perhaps my calm accusation had rattled him more than he expected.
Abel slowly began to lose his composure and get swept up, exactly as I intended.
"T-That girl carried her sword back to her room, didn't she! Then why would it have mixed with mine—"
Caught.
I was almost grateful he was moving exactly as I'd planned.
Inwardly, I smiled in triumph, while outwardly I put on an exaggeratedly puzzled expression.
"Hm? That's strange. I believe Lyriette left her practice sword in the training hall yesterday."
"…What?"
His face changed as though he'd been struck on the back of the head with a hammer.
I didn't press further here—instead, I swiftly summoned a witness.
"Isn't that right, Lord Craig?"
"It is. Since today was to settle things once and for all, I spent a bit more time with her, keeping her company right up until dinner. I saw with my own eyes that she left her practice sword in the training hall."
"U-Um…."
Listening to our exchange, Lyriette cautiously raised her hand.
"Actually, I couldn't sleep well last night, probably from nerves, so I stopped by the training hall and brought my sword back to my room. I thought I'd swing it a little in my room, just so I wouldn't bother anyone else."
In a way, it was supplementary proof for Abel's claim. Emboldened, he spoke up again.
"Th-There, you see! She admits it herself!"
*What a fool.*
He still hadn't realized that whether or not Lyriette had brought the sword to her room wasn't the point.
"I see. I understand that much. But Abel, how did you come to know that?"
"……What?"
The same foolish reaction as before—except this time, it took him three seconds longer. As if he'd frozen up.
"From what you've said, it seems Lyriette visited the training hall quite late at night. And the path to the training hall isn't visible from the main building. So how exactly did you come to know that fact?"
"Th-That is…. I happened to see it while taking a walk last night…."
"What time was that?"
"The time… I don't recall."
"Lyriette, what time did you go?"
"I don't remember exactly, but it must have been around ten."
No sooner had Lyriette spoken than a reaction burst out from an unexpected source.
"Huh? But Young Master Abel didn't leave his room after dinner until eleven last night— Eek!"
It was Medel. Abel's personal maid.
Being his maid, she would have stood guard outside her master's door until quite late into the night. That was why, realizing the timeline didn't add up, she'd muttered it aloud without thinking—
"Medeeeeeel!"
"S-Sorry! I misspoke—!"
She must have belatedly realized just how much of a dagger that was, aimed straight at Abel's heart.
Abel's face turned red and purple as he shouted, and Medel flinched and scrambled to hide behind the other servants.
"How strange. Judging from what your maid just said, there wouldn't have been any opportunity for you to see Lyriette outside. So how did you arrive at the conclusion that Lyriette brought her sword to her room and used some scheme to switch it with yours?"
"Guh…!"
Go on. Bite the hook. All the way down.
"Fine! Since it's come to this, I'll just tell you everything as it is! At the very least, I'll strip that scheming wench of her mask before I'm done!"
Okay.
That settles it.
"The truth is, in the early hours of yesterday morning, I snuck into that girl's room alone."
"B-Brother? What are you talking about—"
"It was to teach that disgrace to House Argent a lesson. Using a magic scroll I asked Mother for, I planned to tamper with that practice sword."
"A scroll…? Don't tell me…?"
Cassdia's face showed genuine shock—she clearly hadn't known it would be used for something like this.
"What kind of magic was it?"
"It was called Fragility."
"I see. A spell that erodes durability. So you designed it to make Lyriette's sword shatter on the very day of the match?"
"That's right! But that snake of a girl saw through my entire plan and turned the scheme back on me. She swapped her sword with mine, meaning to trap me instead."
"Durability…? Ah!"
Lyriette let out a small gasp, as though she'd finally understood something.
But I gestured for her to hold her tongue—it wasn't time yet.
"So, in other words, you admit that you concocted this plan."
"Yes, I admit that! But isn't she just as guilty!? If she'd noticed something was wrong with her sword and revealed it, or simply swapped it for a new one, at least it would've been a fair contest!"
The pot calling the kettle black—that summed it up perfectly.
Watching him rage after having schemed the whole thing himself was nothing short of nauseating.
But today, of all days, I decided to let it slide.
Because thanks to him, my plan was falling perfectly into place.
"I understand your reasoning."
"As expected! I knew our wise uncle would understand—!"
"But you seem to be under a misunderstanding. Lyriette never swapped the sword you enchanted with her own."
"Ah, uh…. What?"
I gave a sly, villainous smile and picked up Lyriette's practice sword, which likewise lay on the ground.
"Do you see this? There's no flower drawn on Lyriette's sword."
"S-So what if there isn't? If it was swapped, then naturally—"
*Tch. What an idiot.*
"No, that's not it. If Lyriette had truly intended to swap it with yours, she would have drawn a new flower on her own beforehand. And as for the flower on your sword—you could simply have explained that you drew it yourself, deliberately, to accuse Lyriette."
"That's…. true."
"And there are far too many holes in your story. If Lyriette were really so meticulous, she'd have erased the flower on her own sword before swapping it."
"…….."
Unable to deny it, he fell silent.
I paid it no mind and continued.
"The reason there's no flower on Lyriette's sword is because she came to the training hall today and exchanged it for a new one."
"Exchanged it? Why would she do such a thing—"
"Earlier, when Lyriette came to the training hall to warm up and swung her sword a bit, she must have felt something was off. Because of the spell you cast."
The Fragility spell left no visible sign on the exterior, but the inside would be considerably corroded.
To put it in human terms, it's like someone who looks perfectly healthy on the outside, but whose insides are riddled with visceral fat, cancer, and every chronic illness imaginable.
"Am I right, Lyriette?"
"Y-Yes. That's right. When I swung the sword earlier, it felt strangely lighter and weaker than usual, so… I asked to have it exchanged for a new one."
"Yes. I was the one who exchanged it for her, so that's confirmed."
The training hall's caretaker stepped forward, adding credibility to the account.
"Then why is there a flower on my sword—"
"Simple. Because I drew it there."
"Y-You did, Uncle? Why, why would you do such a thing!"
"The answer's already decided."
I walked toward him, step by step, and looked down at him with cold eyes, my voice a low growl.
"It was to make you confess your crime with your own mouth. Did you really think I wouldn't have noticed you scheming your foolish little tricks?"
"Ah…."
*Thump.*
He collapsed to his knees right where he stood.
But I had no intention of stopping there.
At the very least, in order to make sure Abel never tried anything against Lyriette again, I had to break his spirit completely here and now.
"For the record, aside from drawing that flower, I did nothing else to the sword you used. I swear it on my honor."
"You mean…."
"Yes. Your loss was entirely due to your own lack of skill."
"Ah, aaah—!"
*What a fool.*
Sneering inwardly, I unleashed a final rebuke.
"If you had put in the kind of desperate effort Lyriette did—enough to notice that your sword's lifespan had run out—the outcome might have been different. But what did you do instead?"
"I…."
"You thought of nothing but scheming behind her back. In other words, you were utterly defeated by Lyriette, both as a person and as a swordsman."
"…….."
His head dropped with a small thud. Like a wooden puppet whose battery had died, he showed no sign of moving again.
"Well? Do you have any further objections?"
"I have… none. I… lost."
Once I heard that final answer, I turned away coldly.
"Uncle…."
Lyriette was looking up at me, her face full of things she wanted to say. I could well guess what those words might be, but—
*Swish.*
"Sorry for putting you through unnecessary worry. You did well, Lyriette."
I only ruffled her hair once more, and walked away.