"Miss Esdeath, the matter has been resolved."
Despite the young man's respectful demeanor, Esdeath continued gripping the gold coins tightly, her other hand still firmly clasping her sword hilt. She eyed him icily, her piercing gaze enough to cow any ordinary man. Yet he maintained his humble bow without a hint of retreat.
Just like earlier with the Imperial Police, Esdeath refused to believe the world had so many convenient coincidences. Every supposed coincidence was merely the tip of inevitability. Happening upon the enemy's men, followed immediately by the Imperial Police, and then finally a convenient rescuer—wasn't it all just too perfect?
"What do you want?"
"I'm merely a servant of Lord Honest. He instructed me to extend you an invitation, Miss Esdeath."
"An invitation? Through such a pointless charade?"
"Well, approaching someone of your caliber is quite difficult otherwise~"
He finally raised his head, smiling softly, speaking as if to a beloved. This tone only tightened the furrow between Esdeath's brows.
Had she been uninjured, perhaps she'd have accepted his invitation already. Though his methods were dubious, she respected someone who openly admitted his motives more than those who constantly hid behind excuses.
But right now, her injuries were severe. She was proud, not foolish—and besides, she had other priorities.
"I appreciate your kind intentions, but I have something more pressing to attend to."
Without another word, Esdeath turned sharply and left. The young man straightened from his bow, sighing theatrically.
"That's quite unfortunate—but I believe one day we will work together, after all."
...
"She refused? Well, that's fine. Although I'm rather fond of that girl, she's hardly an essential piece. By the way, Mr. Bill, have you secured what we discussed?"
At the moment, Honest shed his usual violent image, his bulky frame exuding a refined charm as he carefully enunciated each word. Yet the thin, shadowy man sitting beside him seemed indifferent to this performance.
"Lord Honest, the 'goods' you've requested aren't exactly easy to procure—especially when you specify both fighting skill and a certain physical…aesthetic."
"Oh, Mr. Bill, you jest. As head of the Imperial Assassination Unit, surely your subordinates meet such criteria. Or do you doubt my promise? Rest assured, everything I pledged will be yours."
Their conversation was cryptic, as though discussing mere commodities. Meanwhile, the young servant kneeling to the side sweated profusely.
He didn't know exactly what they referred to, but he understood his master—and he recognized the dangerous, slender man before him. What kind of "goods" could these two speak so secretly about?
Precisely because he'd guessed their identities, dread consumed him. He knew his master wasn't forgiving; if a subordinate overheard something sensitive…well, only important figures survived that. A mere servant, though? He'd likely be silenced forever.
Even this fearless young man, who hadn't flinched under Esdeath's icy glare, trembled uncontrollably before these two seemingly harmless figures.
"Oh, that's right—I'd forgotten you were still here. Leave us now; Mr. Bill and I have more private matters to discuss."
"Yes, my lord!"
Though uncertain whether Honest had genuinely forgotten him, he felt relieved regardless. After all, he'd mostly filled the gaps himself—he hadn't heard anything truly crucial.
Yet, the moment he shut the door, a shadow emerged silently behind him. A golden-haired figure clamped a hand over his mouth, swiftly drawing a blade across his arm.
"…"
The servant's eyes bulged in terror, desperate to scream, but black, rune-like lines rapidly spread across his skin. In moments, his body slackened lifelessly.
"Wasn't that young man one of your favorites?"
"Yes, quite clever—I rather liked him. But alas, sometimes being clever is precisely the problem~"
Though Honest claimed regret, his smile held undisguised amusement.
"Is that woman truly worth sacrificing your subordinate just to ensure secrecy?"
"Hoho~ Perhaps? Even I can't say. But I do appreciate that girl's talent greatly. Perhaps in a year or two, she'll become exactly the 'asset' I need. Besides, she already serves another useful purpose…"
Honest wore his perpetual mask of absolute control, irritating Bill immensely. Although tied together by mutual interests, Honest always had the upper hand, forcing Bill to swallow indignity after indignity. But this time…
Bill licked his lips unconsciously. He'd had enough. Under the previous emperor, he'd been a trusted advisor; now, forgotten and hidden away, even his name was nearly lost. It was time to reclaim the spotlight, to let the Empire remember who truly ruled from the shadows!
Lost in his thoughts, Bill failed to notice Honest's smile broadening as he observed Bill's growing agitation—a subtle mockery hidden behind his gaze.
...
Though Lancer had technically defeated Esdeath, he felt strangely hollow. The current Esdeath was no sadistic queen—just a proud, stubborn young woman. More importantly, he'd been contemplating lately whether he should seek new allies.
He still wasn't certain how many hidden cards Honest held. Meanwhile, his strongest potential ally, General Budo, remained inaccessible due to insufficient evidence of Honest's betrayal. To counterbalance this, Lancer urgently needed to bolster his own hand.
Esdeath was an ideal candidate.
Firstly, she hadn't reached her peak yet, meaning recruiting her now would be infinitely easier. Secondly, in the original timeline, she sided with Honest—recruiting her now would simultaneously boost his strength and weaken Honest's position.
Unexpectedly, his gesture after their duel had raised his status further in the Emperor's eyes—a pleasant surprise.
Though his plans were still forming, at least he'd achieved a promising start.
Yet, having finally completed the first step of his plan, Lancer faced a more immediate challenge—standing awkwardly in front of his own front door, unsure how to enter.
It wasn't that a fierce tiger waited inside. Quite the opposite—it was merely a timid kitten trembling with anxiety. No, the real issue was confronting the mistake he'd made.
As he hesitated, the villa's door swung abruptly open. Leone stood there, a large bag gripped in both hands, staring at him with disbelief. Lancer flushed with embarrassment, unsure how to explain. But before he could speak, Leone bowed deeply, her cheeks reddening.
"Welcome home, Sir!"
Although Leone's voice still wavered nervously, she forced herself to smile earnestly. Unlike before, this wasn't a strained or forced smile. This smile held traces of shyness amidst lingering fear, strangely easing Lancer's tense posture, originally braced to confront his past error.
"I'm home," he replied gently.
For a moment, both fell silent, recognizing a newfound ease in their exchange. While Lancer took it calmly, Leone panicked slightly.
"Um… Sir, I—I have to take out this garbage…"
"Oh—right, of course."
At Leone's prompt, Lancer quickly stepped aside. Leone wobbled past him, lugging the heavy bag toward the villa's trash disposal area.
Though still somewhat awkward, it seemed they'd finally stumbled upon a way to coexist.
---
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