Chapter 12
No way. That can’t be true.
Frina desperately denied the assumption forming in her mind.
“This is my workplace.”
In the middle of her confusion, she answered Hugo.
First, she felt like she needed to clear up the misunderstanding of being treated like a stalker.
“Your workplace? Here? Miss Felt’s?”
Just look at my clothes.
Anyone could tell they were a worker’s outfit.
“I’m working right now. More importantly, why are you here?”
“‘You’?”
Hugo narrowed his eyes at the way she addressed him, as if the form of address amused him.
“…Was something wrong with that?”
Frina’s gaze landed on his clothing. It was excessively luxurious.
He looked no different from the nobles attending the banquet.
Suddenly, she remembered meeting Hugo on Layton Bridge. Back then, too, his clothes had looked incredibly expensive.
At the time, she had vaguely assumed he was a common-born knight who had gotten lucky and earned fine clothes after succeeding on a mission…
But now she was certain.
Hugo was definitely not a commoner.
…So that’s why he hid his identity from me!
Shock crashed through her mind. But the realization had come far too late.
“No, nothing’s particularly wrong. Come to think of it, I never actually told you my name.”
…Don’t tell me!
“Would you like me to?”
“N-no, it’s fine.”
Frina desperately wanted to pretend she knew nothing about this situation.
“It’s fine?”
“E-even if you told me, I’d forget it quickly anyway.”
“Your tone suddenly became very polite.”
Frina flinched.
This man missed nothing—not even the smallest change.
“My name’s actually pretty easy to remember.”
“My brain isn’t exactly functioning easily right now…”
She truly was overloaded. Her thoughts were far too tangled.
Hugo had said he’d returned from a dangerous mission.
If that mission had been… the same battlefield Declan had gone to?
Hugo at the imperial banquet hall. Hugo standing beside Declan. Hugo trying to enter Declan’s VIP chamber…
As every puzzle piece clicked together at once, a chill ran down her spine.
Could it be that Hugo… Hugo is…!
He’s the knight who gets assassinated in Declan’s place!
And that happens in two days!
She wanted to believe it wasn’t true.
But denying it was useless.
Hugo’s appearance—black hair and red eyes—was exactly the same as Declan’s from the pamphlet she had seen.
And in two days, a knight who resembled Declan dies.
A knight named Draven.
If Hugo really is Declan’s knight…
How was she supposed to accept this situation?
Frina looked at Hugo with pity.
“You asked why I’m here, right?”
“…”
“I was invited here.”
Of course he was.
Even if he was just a meat shield, he was still the Grand Duke’s closest guard knight. Naturally he would have the right to enter the banquet hall.
“And just like Miss Felt, I’m diligently carrying out the duty assigned to me. I suppose you could say I’m working too.”
Of course.
He was faithfully following his master around to guard him.
“Anything else you’re curious about?”
Anything else?
How did you end up working under such a horrible master, Hugo?!
But she swallowed the words to the very end.
“N-not really. I’m busy with work, so… I-I should get going.”
For now, she needed to leave.
Then she could sort through her thoughts. It was hard to keep herself together.
Learning that Hugo had lost his memory was already difficult enough, but discovering his identity made everything even more overwhelming.
“You’re leaving already?”
But Hugo asked as though dissatisfied.
Does he really think I was eavesdropping?
“Um… I wasn’t intentionally listening in. It was far away anyway, so I couldn’t hear much… I’m not interested in the affairs of powerful people.”
Hugo was Declan’s knight.
Afraid he might relay the wrong impression to Declan, Frina hurriedly added the explanation.
If Declan decided she was a nuisance, he would probably try to eliminate her at any moment.
“I see. If Miss Felt says so, then I suppose I’ll believe you.”
That arrogant smile.
Hugo definitely wasn’t a commoner. Now she was certain—he had to be a noble.
“By the way, Lenia Felt.”
That title again.
“Do you really not know who I am?”
She froze.
“…Am I supposed to?”
“You’re rather cold, Miss Felt.”
Frina didn’t want to get involved.
Especially not in anything connected to Declan.
But Hugo… before he lost his memory, he was kind to me…!
Could she really just leave him to die?
“All right. Go ahead.”
The moment Hugo gave permission, Frina hurried away.
Her thoughts were a mess.
Then from behind her, she heard a faint laugh breaking softly apart.
“The next time we meet, try being a little more honest, Miss Felt.”
Hugo’s parting words left Frina puzzled.
Did he still think she had overheard something?
The moment she was far enough out of his sight, Frina finally released the breath she’d been holding.
“Ughhh…”
To learn Hugo’s identity like this…
I really didn’t want to know any of this!
Frina felt miserable.
As if losing his memory wasn’t enough, now he was going to die soon too!
What am I supposed to do?
Declan watched the pink-haired girl hurriedly fleeing before him.
Meeting three times already had been strange enough, but even the circumstances of each encounter were far from ordinary.
Could all this really be coincidence?
Of course not.
And that wasn’t the only strange thing.
With such pure divine power, she could have earned money however she pleased.
So why was she working as a servant in the imperial palace?
Is she a spy?
That possibility seemed highly likely.
And at a time like this, there was only one person who would attach a spy to him.
Count Seighton.
Just a few days ago, the count had sent spies into Declan’s camp to uncover his movements.
Declan had personally cut off their heads, wrapped them nicely, and sent them back.
If that woman was another pawn sent by Seighton, then her impeccable timing in appearing before him suddenly made sense.
Only one thing bothered him.
For a spy, she was remarkably unaggressive.
In fact, whenever she caught his attention, she seemed desperate to avoid him.
Except during their first meeting.
She had called him something then.
Hugel? Hui? Something along those lines.
But during their second encounter, the woman had abruptly changed tactics.
She had looked at him with fear and behaved as though she wanted nothing to do with him.
Well, the second meeting had occurred under rather unpleasant circumstances.
After all, he had killed someone right in front of her.
Still, if she had chosen to become a spy, shouldn’t she have been prepared for at least that much?
For some reason, Declan’s mood abruptly soured.
“…Your Grace, as ordered, I delivered the ‘item’ to Count Seighton.”
At that moment, the knight who had departed earlier approached Declan.
The knight, Draven.
He too was a spy personally planted by Count Seighton. It was almost laughable how many agents the count had embedded around him.
“And did the count enjoy the gift?”
“…”
The knight said nothing.
Declan grabbed his shoulder as though crushing it beneath his grip.
“The count should understand as well. Gifts are meant to be exchanged.”
Thus, the spy’s severed head had been returned to Count Seighton.
The sight of the collateral branches scrambling to seize Kaisar while Declan was absent was almost comical.
He looked down at his bowed knight.
“You’ve worked hard, Draven.”
Soon enough, he too would pay the price.
The poisoned cup prepared for him would arrive shortly.
“…It was nothing, Your Grace.”
With cold eyes, Declan stared out beyond the window at the pitch-black night sky.
Lenia Felt.
Since her name was absent from the divine registration records, she was either unregistered—or she had lied to him.
Declan believed in fate.
But he did not believe in coincidence.
Which of the two it was, he would soon find out.
After this banquet ended.
Because she would have no choice but to stand before him again—
this time, in complete honesty.
