The Snow Queen

“Yes. It’s always been like that. So don’t bother calling someone like Lee.”

“Well, then I suppose there’s no choice.”

Ray nodded. He didn’t seem very suspicious. I quickly changed the subject to the painting. I lied, saying it was an excellent replica that I got at a reasonable price, and Ray immediately showed interest.

After dinner, I brought the painting from the trunk and showed it to Ray. Once again, Ray was completely captivated, staring at the painting without moving. I smiled.

“What do you think?”

“It’s wonderful…”

“Hmm. Where should I hang it? I like this piece even more than

. I think it’ll look great above the TV.”

After hanging the painting above the TV, I looked around the living room. I was satisfied. It felt like a fine art gallery that could rival anyone’s. Ray also seemed quite pleased.

I brewed some tea and sat on the living room sofa. It was a pretty good evening. I enjoyed this peaceful moment with a tail-wagging dog and a beautiful lover.

We dressed Diana in a new dress and had fun teaching her words. The table was cluttered with walnut shells and a math book. Lately, Ray had been absorbed in both walnuts and math. He especially loved the walnuts. He ate them quickly, afraid I might eat them.

In fact, today I unintentionally saw something I shouldn’t have. I thought I had packed the documents this morning, but when I arrived at the headquarters, they were nowhere to be found. Thinking I might have left them at home, I hurriedly checked the surveillance footage. The documents contained sensitive work information that Ray shouldn’t see.

If they were at home, I was planning to quickly call Mrs. Castlemaine and ask her to take Ray out. Ray was sitting at the kitchen table, cracking walnuts. But no matter where I looked in the footage, the documents weren’t visible. Then I remembered—I had tossed them in the back seat of the car before leaving.

I was about to turn off the footage, wondering if I was already becoming senile, when I saw something suspicious. Ray gathered the leftover walnuts and put them in a jar, then tucked the jar deep into the sink. It was clear that he was hiding the walnuts. He must’ve been upset because I had eaten all the walnuts the other night as a snack. I felt a bit disappointed. Anyway, I retrieved the documents from the car.

But the walnuts aside—why was he so serious about studying math?

I picked up the math book scattered on the sofa table and flipped through it. It was my high school math textbook from the second-floor study. I felt strangely amused. Was he really self-studying high school math, not middle school math?

“Well then, let’s see what kind of score you’d get…” Just as I was about to pick up a red pencil, Ray snatched the book from me like a flash.

“Why are you picking up a red pencil?”

Ray glared at me with wide eyes. I just shrugged. While talking with Ray, I casually brought up the topic of the new store. I had seen a good building nearby at a reasonable price and suggested moving the shop there instead of continuing in the slums of 42nd Street. Ray responded positively.

“Let’s move after winter ends. Since you’re not feeling well, I’ll handle the move.”

“Having two incomes would definitely help. Honestly, I’ve been worried about the hospital bills and living expenses. And once you hit thirty, the taxes go up a lot. I’ve been sighing, wondering how we’d manage on Messara’s income alone. I was even considering doing some work from home, like assembling envelopes or making artificial flowers.”

Such misery.

I was dumbfounded. It felt like an avalanche was falling from the sky. To think that Ray was secretly considering side jobs, like assembling envelopes or making artificial flowers?!

This was absolutely absurd. It seemed I had brought up the store at just the right time. Otherwise, Ray might have filled the house with boxes of envelopes and artificial flowers, urging me to help out.

“There’s no need to worry about that.”

I said, trying to control the twitching corners of my mouth.

“As I’ve mentioned before, my parents left a substantial inheritance. Plus, those side jobs like assembling envelopes or making artificial flowers don’t bring in much money. Don’t worry about it, just use the money I earn freely, and focus on writing your manuscripts.”

“But still—”

“If you take on pointless side jobs, you’ll only get stressed, and it’ll negatively affect your health. Recovering from illness should be the priority. That’s the best way to reduce hospital bills.”

Ray looked dissatisfied but didn’t argue further. I clicked my tongue and sipped my coffee. What a miserable situation.

Is this for real? I may not be a top entrepreneur, but I’m the Guiger Chief, after all. The lover of Four Messara, a wealthy individual with jewels, art, and cash piled up in a secret bank vault, assembling envelopes at home? It was absurd.

Clearly, this misery wasn’t a byproduct of poverty but rather Ray’s inherent nature. I should’ve realized this earlier when he insisted on growing a vegetable garden in the greenhouse, even when he knew about my wealth. Now that he doesn’t know my true identity, it’s even worse. At least I brought up the taxes at the right moment.

I sipped my drink and glanced at Ray.

“I was planning to bring this up soon anyway. It’s time to register our partnership with Pax.”

“Huh? P-Pax?”

Ray stammered. I smiled and said, “Yes, Pax.”

“Let’s go register this Saturday. I’ve prepared all the paperwork. You just need to sign the consent form. Once we register, you’ll be recognized as my legal partner and receive various rights, like social welfare, inheritance, and insurance benefits. You’ll also get significant tax benefits.”

I emphasized “tax benefits.” Ray lowered his head and spoke quietly.

“…Okay.”

Ray’s cheeks flushed. They had to. Pax was the only system in this conservative kingdom that provided legal rights to same-sex couples. It was the next best thing to marriage. By agreeing to this, Ray was saying he intended to live with me for the long haul. Legally, we would become “family.”

A deep sense of satisfaction filled me. I felt like I had the world in the palm of my hand. I smiled as I kissed Ray’s cheek.

Hahaha.

This really is wonderful.

After watching some television, I decided to end the day with a bang and wrap it up with a cozy night’s rest. I put my arm around Ray’s shoulder and flipped through the channels. There wasn’t much worth watching.

As Ray scraped his fork across a pudding, he spoke up.

“By coincidence, it’s funny. The person who gave me this tablecloth as a gift asked when I was planning to register for PACS. I told them I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Hmph… The person who gave you the tablecloth asked something like that? They must be really interested in you. Are they close to you?”

I had a reflexive suspicion that it might be a man. I was such an incurable jealous type.

“We’re not that close. She’s just a nosy old lady.”

“Haha. That’s how grandmas are. Just look at Mrs. Castlemaine. She’s so nosy that she even counts how many pepper jars we have at home.”

Suddenly, I remembered the old man who had asked when we were going to register for PACS right after I mentioned that we hadn’t done it yet. Was he worried about his son? I chuckled at the thought and continued flipping through the channels, stopping abruptly. On the food channel, Karl’s tea party was being shown. It made me feel a little uneasy.

I was about to switch it off but changed my mind and kept watching. I remembered the strange feeling I had during the Japonica victory party.

What was that all about?

“That pianist is a nobleman, huh? By the way, Messara, are you a fan of his?”

Ray asked as he sipped his tea.

“Yeah, something like that.”

I responded halfheartedly, keeping my eyes on the screen. There wasn’t anything particularly special. They were just explaining how the cheese, cookies, and sweet tea passed down through the Vardi family were excellent.

Irina appeared and introduced the food.

Irina smiled.

The reporter stammered, saying, “I see…” I was just as surprised. No offense, but given Irina’s elegance, I would’ve thought she’d be embarrassed by her plain-looking sister-in-law. And yet, she was personally teaching Miss Obaska how to cook? That must mean she’s welcoming her as a proud future Vardi duchess.

Karl reappeared. At the bottom of the screen, the words [Next Episode: The Mysterious World of Eastern Cuisine] flashed, signaling the end of the show. I felt uneasy. I instinctively reached for my pack of cigarettes but lowered my hand.

Was this going to end with no answers, again…?

It didn’t really matter. Karl, who was happily chatting away on the screen, had no idea. Today was his deadline.

The caricature of the pig from Decibel had been the final straw. We decided there was no more time to delay and planned to officially begin Karl’s assassination tomorrow. If he wanted to save himself, he’d better start revealing his cards now.

It’d be better for both of us if he did…

Just as I was about to chuckle to myself, children with runny noses appeared on the screen. Their loud screeching echoed like the flapping of a demon’s wings. I quickly turned down the volume with the remote. Ray said, “That nobleman seems like a good person.”

“I helped the neighbor’s wife babysit her child for about an hour earlier today. It was so loud and rowdy, I felt like I’d done ten hours of hard labor. He must really love kids.”

“You said it. Baking pudding himself and brewing tea to serve the kids? He’d make a great father.”

I responded indifferently. The screen shifted, and a group of teenage aristocrats appeared. The chaotic atmosphere from earlier finally subsided. Compared to the children, these teens were quieter.

Karl started playing the piano while surrounded by the teenagers. I paused with my coffee cup in hand.

This was it.

This was the scene that gave me a sense of déjà vu at the Japonica victory party. I focused all my attention on the screen. I was certain I could glean something from this. My instincts were screaming it.

The camera alternated between showing Karl and the teenagers. Among them, I suddenly recognized a familiar face. Despite my concentration, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was Miss Obaska.

No wonder the camera kept alternating between Karl and the children. It was because of Miss Obaska. They were trying to show a tender moment between the engaged couple. Their intentions were sweet, but the cameraman’s efforts were wasted. Miss Obaska was so petite that she blended right in with the children. Even with my keen eye, it took me a while to distinguish her from the kids, so no one else would have noticed at all.

…

A chill shot down the back of my neck. Without thinking, I pulled a cigarette from the pack. Ray looked at me and said, “What’s with the cigarette?”

“Oh, sorry. Let me step out for a bit. The smoke isn’t good for you.”

“Every now and then is fine. Here’s an ashtray.”

Ray pulled an ashtray from under the table and slid it over to me. I lit the cigarette and took a puff. A shiver ran through my whole body.

A series of images flashed before my eyes. Miss Obaska walking with her nephew in front of Karl as he played the piano. Karl playing the piano while surrounded by the teenagers. And at that moment, a strange sense of déjà vu…

I jumped up from the couch. Ray frowned and asked, “Messara?”

“I brought home some unfinished work from the office. I’ll finish it quickly and be right back. Ray is relaxing and watching TV. Here.”

I almost threw Diana into Ray’s arms and hurried upstairs to the study on the second floor, grabbing the ashtray along the way. I sat down at the desk, pulled out my laptop, and took out another cigarette.

Let’s think…

I’ve hit the target dead-on. My instincts were right from the beginning. I had just been overlooking all the countless clues that were scattered like fragments in front of my eyes.

In the end, common sense prevailed. The idea that there are no spotless nobles in the royal aristocracy proved to be true. However, it was important not to jump to conclusions. The next step was to verify the hypothesis deductively.

I took out a notepad and started scribbling absentmindedly. Just as my instincts had guided me to the answer, I planned to let my subconscious handle the verification. My hand moved quickly and clearly, shaping a singular image despite the messiness that rivaled Ray’s style. It was a little girl.

Of course…

A cold smile spread across my face. This was the moment when the true nature of the déjà vu that had hit me at the Japonica victory party was fully revealed. It all stemmed from something Louise had said.

It was a story about Lewis Carroll that Louise had mentioned at some point. All the hints had been hidden there.

It was the story about Lewis Carroll that Louise had once mentioned. All the hints were hidden there.

A young girl. And a tea party.

Lewis Carroll’s tea party overlapped with Karl playing the piano surrounded by boys and girls.

Hahaha.

I wanted to burst into laughter. Joy, absurdity, and wonder swept over my whole body. The momentum was like a storm. As expected, God was on the side of the Four Messara. This time, he threw an unexpected clue and led this villain down the path of a successful plot. It was the moment when the mystery of ‘love against nature’ was completely solved.

Love against nature. The answer was simple.

Karl was a pedophile.

It was a perfect fit. The reason Karl refused the temptations of numerous ladies and gay nobles. The real reason he invited ladies and children to a tea party once a week even under Guiger’s persistent surveillance.

And the reason he chose Miss Obaska over many beauties.

Miss Obaska was very small despite her youth. There was not much difference in her physique from her young niece. She was so young that even on the food channel, you couldn’t tell the difference between boys and girls. If you completely forgot about biological age and judged only by appearance, Miss Obaska was no different from a young girl.

It was a matter of imagination and perspective. Miss Obaska was Karl’s Alice. To the eyes of ordinary people, she was just a small spinster, but to the eyes of a pedophile, how much of a ‘beauty’ must she have looked? She was only old, but she was a young girl. When I think about it, the wiretapping data we reviewed was also truly creepy. “My baby! Oh, my cute baby!” she cried.

The reason why Irina welcomed Olke was also fitting. Irina had no choice but to know about her brother’s strange temperament. She must have been very worried. How happy she must have been to see an adult woman who fit her brother’s temperament perfectly.

I smiled wryly. Now, there was only one thing left. All I had to do was stir up the children who were in trouble with Karl. The incident in Germany was clearly because Karl had messed with his wife’s child. This was a secretly funny kid.

No, he was a great kid. At least in terms of his workmanship.

If my judgment is correct, Karl’s multiple piano performances in front of children at parties were a carefully calculated act. Pedophiles were common in the aristocratic society where perverts were rampant. Therefore, Karl deliberately played the piano at every party to slowly instill in people the image of a ‘good older brother who platonically loves children.’ It was a kind of brainwashing. After inducing the children’s parents (including me) to let their guard down, he held a tea party and happily rolled around with the children.

Still, there was one thing that bothered me: the camellia forest. What could that be? Was it simply an associative reaction triggered by the overlap of Drulane’s “brainwashing” and Karl’s?

Anyway…

I clasped my hands together and chuckled.

You’re finished now. All that’s left is for you to suffer public disgrace. But you’re a tenacious one, holding on until the very deadline before getting caught. Thanks to that, I’m in the clear, avoiding the blunder of losing public favor by assassinating a popular star. I felt utterly relieved.

“Messara?”

Ray entered the study, carrying a tray. He placed a bottle of pale ale and a glass on the desk.

“Have a drink while you work. The heating here isn’t great. It’s better to warm yourself up with some beer while you work.”

“Hahaha, sure thing.”

I happily drank the pale ale. It tasted good. Ray tilted his head and asked, “But what is this?” He glanced at a memo sheet.

“Aha? What’s this drawing? Some girl?”

“It’s nothing. I was just goofing around because I got bored of working. Damn Chief. It’s all because of my stingy boss. Working from home doesn’t even come with extra pay, you know.”

I joked as I snatched the memo sheet from Ray.

“But Messara, your drawing skills are terrible. Haha, if it weren’t for the hair, I would’ve mistaken it for a mushroom kid.”

“To be honest, I was terrible at art in school. Anyway, I’ll head out now. You should just take a break.”

I finished off the rest of the pale ale. Ray and I left the study together. My lower body felt stiff. Whenever the moment to eliminate an enemy drew near, an intense lust always surged within me. Before we even reached the bottom of the stairs, I lifted Ray up. His face flushed.

“Ah, it’s still early evening.”

“I should go to bed early today.”

I carried Ray straight to the bedroom, practically running. I barely managed to dodge Diana, who was chasing me relentlessly, and slammed the bedroom door shut. I planned to thoroughly enjoy myself with Ray, get a good night’s sleep, and deliver great news to the department heads tomorrow morning. I was already buzzing with excitement.

꙳•❅*ִ

“I’ll come pick you up in the evening. If I’m late, I’ll let you know, so take care during your treatment.”

Messara dropped me off in front of the hospital. He kissed me before driving away. He seemed to be in a great mood since morning, humming a tune the entire way to the hospital and repeatedly kissing my cheek.

I sighed as I watched the car disappear into the distance.

Not even the slightest sign of fatigue…

Last night, I thought I’d be completely drained from dealing with Messara. He always preferred intense sex, but yesterday was on another level. It was overwhelming—I thought I was going to die. He was so relentless that I could barely catch my breath, to the point where my screams startled Diana into scratching at the door and barking.

And yet, he’s still full of energy. He even woke up 30 minutes earlier than usual to enthusiastically pound the punching bag.

I’d always heard that once you hit your 30s, especially if you’re a stressed-out office worker, your stamina tends to decrease. But now I doubted that common knowledge. No, that immense energy had nothing to do with stress or a simple deviant tendency triggered by it.

It was genetic. No doubt about it. This wasn’t something a job change or psychiatric treatment could fix—it was an instinct embedded deep within Messara’s very cells. I realized this just yesterday while looking at an old photo of Messara’s parents hanging on the living room wall.

Messara was the spitting image of his father. Tall and solidly built, with a confident smile at the corners of his mouth. His mother was delicate, with long blonde hair. A sudden sense of déjà vu hit me.

I quickly figured it out. They were just like us now. Messara’s boundless energy was undoubtedly inherited. I wasn’t sure if he realized it, but perhaps he had even inherited his taste in partners and bold sexual behavior from his father. Everything that had been suspicious, from the unusually luxurious couple’s bathroom to the dozens of custom-made pillow covers filling the wardrobe, now made sense.

There was only one solution. A concentrated intake of garlic and walnuts—nothing else would help. Looking back on the dazed state I’d been in three weeks ago, when I had just begun to experience sex, it was absurd.

“Absurd, absolutely absurd.”

I came four times last night. But thanks to my recent walnut regimen, I wasn’t completely wiped out. I pulled out the walnuts I had packed and ate them as I walked.

“Is that man your boyfriend?”

I was startled by a sudden voice next to me. It was Mrs. Katrin. I greeted her with, “Ah, yes.”

She was chewing on a cheese bar as she stared in the direction Messara’s car had disappeared.

“How come you’re here so early today? It’s only 8:30.”

“Older folks don’t sleep much. What about you, Ray?”

“Well, since I have to go to the hospital, I have to take advantage of his commute.”

“What does your boyfriend do?”

“He’s just an office worker.”

I tried to brush off the question.

Mrs. Katrin—she was the same old lady who had caused a scene at the banquet and been arrested by Guiger. Last Wednesday, I had run into her in the hospital’s break room, where she had started coming for treatment for her binge eating disorder. I can’t describe how shocked I was when I first saw her.

That day, Mrs. Katrin had apologized as soon as she saw me. A few days later, she even gifted me an embroidered tablecloth with an apple design. But I couldn’t help but be intimidated by her, having witnessed the struggle Guiger’s strong men had gone through to subdue her.

As she munched on her cheese bar, Mrs. Katrin asked, “An office worker, huh… Where does he work?”

“He runs a small martial arts center.”

“No wonder he’s got such a strong build… But his expression is quite scary. How did you manage to date him?”

“Pardon? His expression is scary?”

I was caught off guard. Lately, I had come to realize that Messara wasn’t as soft as he seemed, but I still thought his demeanor was kind and neat.

Mrs. Katrin pulled another snack from her pocket and unwrapped it.

“Despite that sunny smile, it seems like he’s got quite the temper. His gaze was sharp, like a well-honed dagger. Does he treat you well, though?”

“Haha, you’ve got a sharp eye. You’re right—he’s not as gentle as he looks. But he treats me well.”

“Find someone else. You’ve been dating for a year, and he hasn’t even reported it to PAX yet. Isn’t that suspicious? He doesn’t earn much either… Driving such a cheap car. I actually know someone really great. He’s rich, has a good personality, and I can introduce you two. Why don’t you make time to meet him?”

“…Excuse me?”

I was stunned. Meddling in someone else’s private life like this was a huge breach of etiquette. If it were Mrs. Castlemaine, it would be different, but I had only met Mrs. Katrin a couple of times. She was also the first to bring up registering with PAX.

Suppressing my irritation, I said, “Thank you for your suggestion.”

“But I don’t think my boyfriend’s choice of car or how much he earns is any of your concern. I’ll take it as advice not to rely on my partner financially. In any case, I’ll be starting work soon. Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

I left Mrs. Katrin and headed to the hospital lounge. There was still plenty of time before my morning appointment. I sat in front of the computer and searched through job listings. Yesterday, when I brought up the idea of a side job, Messara wasn’t too thrilled. But I had no intention of giving up. I couldn’t just sit idle any longer.

Three days ago, Mr. Lawrence next door informed me that the dresses Diana wore from the brand

were luxury dog clothes that cost more than human outfits. I can’t explain how shocked I was. Never before had I realized so fully the extent of Messara’s wastefulness.

There was no way Mrs. Katrin could know. In fact, Messara owned two top-of-the-line luxury cars for special outings. I could only feel anxious about it. Sure, extravagant spending might be a virtue for the rich, but we were just ordinary people.

After searching for a while, I still couldn’t find anything suitable. I closed the job listings with a sigh. I couldn’t help but think how impressive Messara’s father was. Despite being illiterate and having no formal education, he had started from nothing and worked his way up to owning the house we live in today—something Messara had boasted about.

Casually scrolling through the search engine results, I paused. The top search term was “Guiger.” I clicked on it out of curiosity. It led me to Guiger’s official website (I was surprised they even had an official website). I browsed it while munching on some walnuts.

Interesting character…

In the

, Sun Tzu said, “A wise general takes his troops from his own country and forages provisions from the enemy.” In that sense, Snake was a wise general. The bodyguard business Snake was running had involuntarily secured many clients, including the tattooed nobles.

They were also actively recruiting professional advisors. Even the rough-sounding titles like “Captain” and “Officer” would be replaced with softer ones like “Staff” and “Manager” within a month. It seemed like they were trying to shed their image as a gang and become a legitimate political organization.

I also came across some unexpected information. Starting in June this year, their working hours would be reduced by an hour on weekdays, and wages would increase by a whopping 8 percent. I almost started to like Snake. Out of curiosity, I searched for more information on Guiger.

Articles started popping up, mostly vague in nature, except for those from far-left outlets. Still, it wasn’t too difficult to grasp the political landscape. Desibel was right. Guiger was a leading force in the current political scene. But this man…

I clicked on a picture of Duke Karl Vardi. He wasn’t just a noble pianist—he was a rising young power player, having gained favor thanks to his sister, who was pregnant with the king’s child.

I considered looking into it further, but decided against it. My appointment was about to start.

During the morning session, I underwent hypnotherapy. Perhaps due to my nerves, it didn’t take easily. The therapist seemed to agree that forcing it wasn’t a good idea and ended the session early.

“You have strong self-control, Arisa. Hypnosis doesn’t seem to work well on you. Please relax and trust me during the next session.”

After lunch, I had another session, which involved activities like animal care, cooking, and listening to music. It was quite enjoyable. The only issue was Mrs. Katrin. I ran into her four times near the greenhouse and the kitchen. It became increasingly uncomfortable.

No matter how I looked at it, Mrs. Katrin was following me. I remembered what her son had said about her tendency to act out when she saw blondes, and a chill ran down my spine.

Fortunately, Louise recognized her and her expression darkened.

“I’ll handle this. Just a moment.”

She called for the hospital guards, who escorted Mrs. Katrin away. I let out a sigh of relief.

After my afternoon session, I headed to the library. There wasn’t any book in particular that caught my eye. Just before my memory cut off, I remembered that Lord Manen had recommended a book to me when I mentioned studying for counseling.

“Nobles have traditionally armed themselves with Machiavellianism. If you want to understand your enemy, you must read Machiavelli.”

I borrowed Machiavelli’s

and left the library. I went back to the lounge to search for side jobs online. Again, I couldn’t find any good positions. After sending a few emails, I started browsing the news and searched for Karl Vardi.

He’s quite the clever one…

I muttered to myself while eating walnuts. The Duke’s rise to prominence in society since his debut was fascinating. One thing stood out in particular: the Queen’s inheritance.

Was it a coincidence…?

I froze.

“Duke Vardi Confesses to Past-Life Experience!”

Another past-life case? It wasn’t unheard of for nobles to bring up their past lives for attention, like Telini, but I was surprised to see even Duke Vardi doing such a thing.

I clicked on the article with a sarcastic smile, but soon I froze.

No way…

The article mentioned, “Duke Vardi only dropped hints and refused to reveal the full identity of his past self.” But I knew. There was no doubt. Starting with his family background, everything fit.

Levitan.

Duke Vardi was Levitan. He was the one who had offered dwarves and jesters to Daytanz and exchanged love letters with him daily. That’s why the king never revealed his relationship with women. How could he, when he was in love?

Most of all, the king’s awkward signature. But no official records mentioned Daytanz’s poor handwriting. He was known as a perfectionist who hated exposing his flaws to others. He likely had his close aides write letters and documents for him, using a seal instead of a signature.

However, according to royal tradition, only the marriage proposal to the bride had to be written in the form of a love letter by the king himself. Duke Vardi had said, “Aside from me, the Queen was likely the only one to see the king’s signature firsthand.”

Levitan was one of the two queens who had witnessed Daytanz’s sloppy signature, with the other being Whitebirch.

I was chilled. Unaware of the king’s imminent return, Whitebirch had died using a maiden’s torture device. It was only 600 years later, after being reincarnated as Ray Arisa, that I learned the full meaning behind the circumstances. The countless books Ray Arisa had pored over consistently pointed to Daytanz as the mastermind behind Whitebirch’s brutal torture and murder.

My phone vibrated, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Messara.

“I’m almost at the hospital. Come down to the underground parking lot.”

“Okay…” I responded, still dazed, ending the call as I tried to regain my composure.

It was all in the past. It no longer had anything to do with Ray Arisa. I repeated this to myself as I made my way back to the private room. Yet, the small flame that flickered in my chest refused to die. In fact, it grew more intense with each step.

I wanted to know the truth. Was it really Daytanz who had orchestrated Whitebirch’s death? Levitan, who had lived as Daytanz’s second wife for 50 years, would surely know the truth.

But then, I laughed. There was no way to find out.

It was like reaching for the stars. Like trying to meet a Hollywood celebrity. Even if I wrote a letter, it would just get lost among thousands of fan letters.

“Unbelievable, just unbelievable,” I muttered with a wry smile as I put on my coat. I decided to take solace in the fact that Daytanz’s scheme had been mistakenly blamed on Whitebirch’s witchcraft. It was a hollow victory at best. If only Whitebirch had used the secret palace escape route to attend a commoners’ festival or run off to marry a simple farmer instead of dying so tragically.

In the article, Duke Vardi had said that if the king had also been reincarnated, just like himself, he would love to meet him again. Even after 600 years, it seemed Daytanz was still dearly missed.

“Go ahead and have fun finding your old husband…” I muttered as I boarded the elevator. From afar, I spotted Messara, smoking a cigarette while waiting by the car.

“Did you wait long?”

“No, I just got here,” Messara replied, stubbing out his cigarette with a smile, looking as cheerful as he had in the morning. As I was about to get into the car, I froze.

Mrs. Katrin was standing by the elevator. Messara, following my gaze, also saw her and frowned.

“That old woman? …Do you know her by any chance?”

“She’s Mrs. Katrin, a hospital patient. She’s kind of eerie. She keeps talking to me and clinging on, which makes me uneasy.”

“Katrin, huh,” Messara chuckled.

“So, since when has she been sticking to you? If she keeps bothering you, we might have to file a restraining order.”

“Is that really necessary? She’s strange, but she’s just a patient from a psychiatric hospital.”

“Yes…” Messara’s expression changed in a way that unsettled me. It was fleeting, but it was enough to send a chill down my spine, reminding me of Mrs. Katrin’s strange comments about Messara. Knowing how overly sensitive he was about anything concerning me, I buckled my seatbelt, trying to brush it off.

“She’s just a frail old woman. Let’s go.”

“Still, I think I should inform the doctor. I’ll give them a call.”

Messara shrugged as he started the car. I stared out the window, feeling uneasy.

It’s none of my business.

I shook my head and, hoping to distract myself, pulled out the book I had borrowed from the library and flipped through its pages. The content felt familiar. I was certain I had read this book at some point in my previous life.

Messara glanced at me.

“Huh? I’ve never seen you read in the car before. What’s the book? Must be pretty interesting.”

“Hmm… I’ve just started, so I’m not sure yet if it’s interesting. It’s Machiavelli.”

“Machiavelli? I think I’ve heard that name somewhere before. Is it a detective novel?”

I stifled a laugh. I had realized when he asked about the origin of the Viola Cathedral’s name that Messara was woefully lacking in historical and cultural knowledge. Actually, Machiavelli was basic knowledge, something you’d expect anyone to know. But this side of Messara was oddly endearing.

“Haha, Messara, you really are quite extreme.”

“Extreme? You think so? Haha, well… I can’t deny it. But what makes you say that?”

“Well, you’re an expert on detective novels but totally clueless about history. You know so much about things you’re interested in, but for things you’re not, you don’t even know the basics. Be honest. What were your history grades in school?”

“I won’t lie. They were always Fs. But how did you know I was bad at history?”

“I realized when you asked about the origin of the Viola Cathedral’s name. The fact that it was named after the king’s mother is pretty well-known, but you said it was named after the violet flower.”

“Huh? It was named after the king’s mother? Haha, I guess he was a mama’s boy. So, Machiavelli is common knowledge too, huh? I should probably learn about him so people don’t call me ignorant. What’s the book about, anyway?”

Messara laughed, and his lightheartedness lifted some of the gloom I had been feeling. I held up the book.

“It’s

by Niccolò Machiavelli. He was an Italian historian and political theorist during the Renaissance. He argued that politics is a realm separate from morality, and that rulers should use any means necessary to maintain power. This book is his most famous work and is considered the foundation of modern political thought.”

“I see…”

Messara’s expression changed suddenly. It was brief but unmistakable. Before I could figure out why, Messara quickly put on a smile.

“So, Machiavelli was that kind of person. But weren’t you more interested in environmental or artistic topics, Ray? Why the sudden interest in a political book?”

“A reason? Well… it just seemed interesting.”

“Interesting, huh.”

Messara murmured. I added, “You don’t always need a reason for what interests you.”

“That’s true. But I’m not particularly thrilled about you reading political books, Ray. Haha. Of course, I’m overstepping, but don’t you wonder why?”

“What is it?”

Messara remained silent for a moment. I, too, felt a strange tension and kept quiet. It was the first time Messara had shown such blatant disapproval of one of my hobbies.

After tapping the steering wheel for a bit, Messara finally spoke.

“My workplace is Guiger, isn’t it? It’s where all sorts of sordid things happen. The only lesson I’ve learned from working there for so long is that the political arena is the dirtiest place in the world. That’s why I hope you won’t take too much interest in it.”

“…”

“That book alone talks about how politics is a unique domain separated from morality, doesn’t it? Ray, you’re very interested in the Snow Queen, so you probably know how that king killed his wife. Even now, things aren’t much different.”

“Yeah…”

I answered softly and closed the book, putting it back into my bag. Since I had clearly read it before, there was no need to hold on to it any longer. I felt a bit thrown off. I hadn’t expected Messara to dislike it so much. Was it because someone like him, who went in and out of Guiger every day, experienced it differently?

But isn’t this a bit much?

It wasn’t like I was planning to jump into the political arena. I was just reading a book. It felt like Messara’s concern was bordering on overprotection. Most people read

by Machiavelli as a general knowledge book. Sure, the kingdom’s political scene was rife with populism, black propaganda, and assassinations, but that wasn’t all politics was about.

As Messara turned the steering wheel, he said, “I feel like I brought up something too serious. Haha. I don’t really have the right to interfere with what interests you.”

“No, it’s fine. Reading in the car was making me dizzy anyway.”

“Hmm… Anyway, about the Pax registration. After your appointment this Saturday, we’ll head to the registration office. Ah, there’s a witness system in place to prevent fraudsters from filing fake claims to get insurance benefits. You and I will each need one witness, so I called on Mrs. Castlemaine and Ilex. Mrs. Castlemaine will testify for you, and Ilex for me.”

“So, we’ll all go together.”

“That’s right. The interview will be about the personal details and character of the witness and the applicant. I’ve prepared a paper with all of the lady’s personal information, so memorize it. Once the registration is done, we’ll have dinner with Lord and Mrs. Castlemaine and Ilex. It’ll be quite busy. Haha.”

I accepted the envelope of documents. While I felt excitement, I couldn’t help but think of Whitebirch walking through that wide, lofty cathedral. I sighed softly. Was my life better now than it was back then?

Yes, it was better.

In fact, this was great. I was now making plans for the future with my partner. No matter how grandly the Duke Vardi lived, I believed it couldn’t compare to the happiness I felt.

I gazed out of the car window, deep in thought. My mind was clearing from the shock of realizing the Duke’s true identity earlier.

As Messara said, politics was a cesspool. Six hundred years ago, Levitan, at 24, and the young king, at 13, fell in love after a series of chance encounters in the palace. Forty-eight years later, the royal chamberlain was arrested for embezzling royal funds. That incident exposed the magical nature of their encounters.

The chamberlain’s ledger recorded that he had been paid a large sum by Levitan’s mother to arrange these “chance” meetings with the king. Nowadays, though, such crude tactics wouldn’t be enough to seize power. Times had changed. Common sense, philosophy, institutions, and people had all evolved. If Machiavelli were born in this era and wrote

, he would dedicate many pages to the use of media manipulation.

I laughed, recalling the articles about the Duke of Vardi. I could see through his intentions immediately. He was clever. The queen’s inheritance was no accident.

It was all orchestrated by the Duke. I was certain. Moreover, with the recent pregnancy announcement, it was clear that Duke Vardi was desperate to position his sister as queen. The reason was obvious—he had once been queen himself, seizing power and enjoying luxury.

But it won’t be that easy…

In my view, the Duke of Vardi was cautious. Even the “bold” moves he made were rooted in a thorough, safety-first mindset. And with his recent return, the people around him were mostly young, inexperienced playboys unfamiliar with the intricacies of conspiracy and murder. This was likely why the Duke was pushing for an alliance between military and civilian elites.

The gleeful expression in the articles showed that the Duke was likely dreaming of using Snake as a pawn.

I doubted it would work.

Even the ruthless Wolfscott had been taken down by Snake. I didn’t see Snake teaming up with the young Duke. Snake was the Hades of the underworld, while the Duke was a pianist in the spotlight. Snake sought fear from the public, whereas the Duke sought love. This was their fundamental difference.

Machiavelli argued that humans are calculative beings who, when given the chance for gain, will easily abandon love. Fear, on the other hand, is effective because it’s sustained by the threat of punishment.

Snake understood this well. And the Duke of Vardi had already betrayed Lord Pusher, a leading statesman, multiple times. He had demonstrated firsthand how love in politics could quickly turn into betrayal.

I was certain—Snake would never choose Duke Vardi as a partner. He would eliminate the Duke soon.

Above all, Duke Vardi was missing the point. He seemed to think that installing his sister as queen would be the ultimate victory, but this was a huge misjudgment. The modern king was merely a chess piece in the aristocrats’ golden game.

“Go ahead and act out all you want.

I’ll keep my eyes wide open and watch your downfall.”

“Hmm? Why are you laughing all of a sudden?” Messara glanced at me from the side.

“That’s not like your usual smile, Ray. It was quite odd. Never seen it before. Haha.”

“Wh-what do you mean by odd?” I stammered. It was a smile I made while engrossed in a scheme. Did it look sinister?

“Well…” Messara furrowed his brow.

“Oh, I know. Like the Cheshire Cat. You smiled like the Cheshire Cat.”

“…Did I just smile wide enough to make my ears tear apart?”

“Haha, not quite that wide. Usually, Ray, you smile faintly, just enough to crease your eyes into half-moons. But this time, I could see a bit of your teeth. The corners of your mouth stretched towards your ears. If I had to describe it with a sound, I’d say it was a ‘smirk.'”

A smirk.

I had smirked? What a disaster. Being caught making such a sinister smile by Messara made me want to turn back time.

“It was refreshing, though. I like your usual faint smile, but seeing that expression now and then is amusing too. So, what were you thinking to make you smirk like that?” Messara teased, emphasizing the word “smirk.” Flustered, I quickly pulled out the paper and made an excuse, “I was thinking about Diana.” Messara burst into laughter.

“Ah, you were plotting some mischief against Diana, weren’t you? Maybe revenge for that little bathroom incident?”

“Diana really hates baths. As soon as the bathroom door opens, she hides under the sofa. But funnily enough, when I spend a long time in the bathroom, she paces in front of the door with a worried look. It’s like she thinks the bathroom is dangerous for me too. She seems to mistake it for a torture chamber.”

“Huh. It’s impressive that such a small creature worries so deeply for her owner. If Diana were a shepherd, she’d be remarkable. But still, I don’t think that kind of smile should become a habit. You know the saying: an old face reflects the life one has lived.”

“…Yeah.”

I buried my face in the paper. He said it would be bad if it became a habit. Just how odd did I look laughing for Messara to say something like that? It was already bad enough having Ray Arisa’s gloomy face; adding something sinister to it would be disastrous. I sighed as I flipped through the paper.

I need to get a grip…

It was pathetic. I had no right to mock the Duke of Vardi for not realizing how much the times had changed. I was just as stuck in the past. Yes, times have changed.

They’ve completely changed. In the 16th century, life was synonymous with war. Plagues ran rampant, the people’s favorite form of entertainment was watching burnings at the stake, and everyone was fanatically obsessed with religion. On May 19, 1536, Queen Anne Boleyn of England was beheaded for the crime of not bearing a son. On August 24, 1572, in France, the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre saw 14,000 Protestants brutally murdered by Catholics. And on top of that, it was incredibly filthy—people didn’t even wash their hands after using the toilet.

Compared to that, this is truly a good time to live in…

I blinked. It looked like traffic was starting to build up. Messara was already glancing my way. Rarely, I felt sexual desire. With Messara’s high libido, I didn’t usually need to feel it first, but for some reason, today was different.

Without thinking, my gaze wandered to Messara’s muscular thighs. Messara, catching on quickly, let out a laugh and grabbed my hand, guiding it between his legs. I found myself gripping something hard and erect. Messara moved my hand along his thick, stiff penis for a while, then pulled it lower to fondle his firm balls.

I was utterly embarrassed. Messara leaned in and kissed me, and I felt like I was melting. This was something I could never have dared to do in the 16th century. I would have been wracked with guilt under the cross, banging my head and sobbing in remorse, or trembling in fear of being caught and burned at the stake.

Ahh… I really was born in the right era… I thought, as I surrendered myself to Messara.

꙳•❅*ִ

“If you want to see your son, you should follow the legal process, as I’ve told you before. If I catch you again, I will file for a restraining order. Once it’s certified by Pax, I’ll have the right to enforce it. So, be careful.”

I slammed down the receiver after threatening Lee.

Just thinking about that fatso made my blood boil. Yesterday, I’d been grilling Ray about him. When fatso mentioned introducing Ray to another man, I was furious.

They really were a despicable couple. They saw me as a threat, throwing around words like ‘criminal charges.’ It was obvious that fatso’s approach to Ray at the hospital had been discussed with his husband. They were scheming to drive a wedge between Ray and me.

You’ve thrown away your luck.

I had been debating whether to tell Ray about his parents, but I had made up my mind now. With such scheming, sinister parents, they were of no use. Unless they confessed first, I had resolved never to bring up the topic of Ray’s parents.

I poured myself a glass of whiskey and lit a cigarette. I was in a foul mood. All day, I couldn’t get the image of Ray explaining Machiavelli’s

out of my head. He’s reading books like that even with his memory lost?

It was chilling, yet I understood. No, it almost made too much sense. In the past, I would have chalked it up to his revenge against Snow Queen, but now, it was different.

Blood runs thicker than water. Like a salmon returning to its birthplace, Ray was unconsciously honing the talents he had inherited from his parents.

Ray’s mother had been an up-and-coming assistant to a commoner lawmaker before she got married. Manen had once reflected that Ryeong had been a sharp person, and that teaching him had been a great joy. It was infuriating. That crow, or whatever kind of shrew it was that Marata had offered as an apprentice, wasn’t an ordinary stork with keen eyesight.

I tapped the table. The more I thought about it, the more I leaned towards the idea that it would be better for Ray to regain his memories. Before he lost them, he had shown no real signs of wanting to distance himself from political intrigue.

I knew. I knew very well how ridiculous it was for someone like me, who enjoyed all sorts of schemes, to try so hard to keep Ray out of them. But I didn’t care. I just didn’t want it. Anything else was fine, but I couldn’t bear for him to get involved in magic or politics. I couldn’t stand it, not with Ryeong’s image still fresh in my mind.

They say words have power. Even though it was a curse concocted by that wretched king, it’s true that the Snow Queen, whom Ray identifies with, dabbled in magic and ended up caught in a political struggle, leading to her death. I hoped that Ray could simply live a happy life as an ordinary secondhand bookstore owner. There was plenty of work and study to focus on without needing magic or political strife.

“Is he here?”

Cooperhead and Leopard entered. Snapping out of my thoughts, I muttered, “Mm.”

“What, have we already heard something from Germany?”

“Not yet. For now, we’re in the process of bribing the nannies of the kids who attended the tea party. But as I was reviewing Karl’s old records, I found something interesting. Looks like the Chief’s prediction was right, heh.”

Cooperhead tossed a report onto the table. I flipped through it. It was testimony from a servant we had recruited from the Duke of Vardi’s estate. The contents confirmed my suspicion that Irina had long been concerned about her brother’s… proclivities.

Irina had always hated her brother’s tea parties, and right before Miss Obaska appeared, she had even summoned some Eastern shamans and performed strange rituals. Apparently, she had dragged Karl into these ceremonies, making a big fuss about cleansing him of demons, which led to quite the commotion.

But now, they’re happily baking cookies together… I couldn’t help but chuckle. If it weren’t for her love of luxury, Irina would have been a heartbreakingly kind sister. It was all so amusing. One of my subordinates had reported that there was a children’s playroom next to the tea party hall, and that Karl often disappeared there. Oddly enough, the playroom hadn’t been captured in any of the video footage we’d obtained so far. It made sense.

After all, installing cameras in a room where kids under ten are playing would be something only child psychology researchers would do. Anyway, we finished installing the hidden cameras today. The tea party was scheduled for next Saturday.

“But Karl is on good terms with his fiancée, right? What if he behaves like a saint after all that effort we put in? I mean, it’d be good for the kids, but it’d be a waste of our efforts, wouldn’t it?” Cooperhead said, pulling out a cigarette. I tapped the table with my whip.

Sure, that was a possibility. But I wasn’t worried. I doubted Karl would be so well-behaved at the tea party. My gut told me that Miss Obaska, regardless of her young appearance, was just a substitute for Karl. He wouldn’t be able to rely on his imagination alone. I was speaking from experience.

Honestly, when I first reunited with Ray, I did think about giving up this miserable sadist lifestyle. I even tried hard to get used to the simple sex that Ray preferred. I desperately tried to find a new appreciation for oral sex.

It didn’t work. I lasted only a few days. In fact, I think I only made it one day. Not even my first and last love could do anything to quell my raging desires.

As someone who shared the same sexual inclinations, I was confident. There was no way Karl would just watch the kids sweetly. He would definitely pull something strange.

Even if Karl just reached for a child’s thigh, it would be game over. My skills at editing fabricated videos were highly praised among journalists. I wasn’t worried at all. People love exciting lies more than boring truths. That’s why novels have survived for thousands of years, after all. Haha.

I’ll make sure Karl is thoroughly humiliated…

“By the way, did you tell Altonen not to meet Karl at all? How did he react?” Leopard asked. I nodded, sipping my whiskey.

“He panicked. If a scandal broke about his ally being a pedophile, he could end up caught in the mess too. Luckily, we’ve always been indifferent to Karl, so it shouldn’t be a huge issue for us.”

“Still, we should prepare a statement just in case. The quicker we respond, the easier it’ll be to stroll through the party without any worries.”

“A party, huh.”

I downed the rest of my whiskey and handed glasses to the others. Leopard and Cooperhead grinned and raised their glasses.

. The sound was crisp.

Strolling through the party… That was it. If the scandal broke, Karl wouldn’t be able to walk around the party freely. How could he face the parents of the children glaring daggers at him? In the political battlefield of the kingdom, parties were essential.

In other words, Karl’s political life would effectively be over. Preparations were mostly complete. Now, all we had to do was wait for news from Germany over the next week. I smiled slightly.

And then, Saturday arrived. With holly in tow, I headed for the mental hospital. The holly nagged the whole way, “How could you do this?” and “Are you even human?” I just grunted in response.

There was no helping it. Leopard was tight-lipped, my closest colleague, and the only one among the directors who was favorable toward Ray. Leopard waved a paper, laughing heartily.

“This character development is sloppy for someone like you, Director. Ilex Sparte, a coworker of Four Messara. Hobbies include writing romance novels in his spare time. He’s submitted manuscripts to romance novel contests multiple times but has been rejected every time. He’s been single for three years, desperately searching for a lover. The reason he’s single is… what’s this? He’s too large-hearted? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leopard mumbled in confusion. Not understanding that showed just how far he was from escaping his bachelorhood. I merely responded with a quiet grunt.

We arrived near the hospital. I called Ray, telling him to come down to the underground parking lot. After picking him up, we headed to the Pax Reporting Center. Leopard continued bad-mouthing me the whole way. “That Scrooge Chief cleaned everyone out at the shooting range again today,” “Overwork is causing half the office staff to suffer from herniated discs,” and other baseless slander. It was infuriating.

“And really, that guy’s too much. Things could’ve gone well between me and Ray, but instead, he called me as a witness for the Pax report. Isn’t that inhuman?”

“Haha. That just means he feels close to you, Ilex. You should hurry up and find a partner. You’re handsome, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Of course, heh heh.”

I bet 50 million talantens he wouldn’t find anyone, even if he lived past seventy. We arrived at the Pax Reporting Center and joined up with Mrs. Castlemaine, who had arrived before us.

As expected, it was a battlefield. Everyone had haggard faces, either standing or sitting in the waiting area. Babies cried, toddlers ran around energetically, and the noise practically tore the ceiling apart.

I pulled a waiting ticket. Number 2568. My guess that it would take about four hours was spot on. After loitering at a nearby café for a long while, we returned to the center. There were still over 300 people ahead of us. Everyone’s eyes looked hollow, like people who’d missed winning the lottery by just one number.

We waited. There were no seats, so we stood. After 30 minutes, I felt an overwhelming urge to throw dynamite into the center. After 45 minutes, Ray looked at me with a faint smile and said, “I gave Diana less breakfast than usual today.” After 50 minutes, Mrs. Castlemaine pinched my arm repeatedly, saying, “I think my arthritis is acting up again.” By the 55th minute, Leopard jabbed my side, saying, “I suddenly have a feeling I’m going to get a special bonus tomorrow.”

A sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning: the damned sorcerer would probably never get to see our Pax filing papers in his lifetime, would he?

Even though love had been sufficiently guaranteed by the ring, I kept questioning whether there was really a need to be so fixated on legal paperwork.

A rough-looking kid stomped hard on the tip of my shoe and ran off. Far from apologizing, he turned back from a distance, sneered, and gave a nasty smirk. Something whizzed past the back of my head. Just as I was about to shout, “Let’s get out of here right now…!”, the number

flashed on the screen.

“Bring your proof of residence and submit the documents. Wait until you receive the certificate.”

A young staff member, who had a chrysanthemum badge representing a low-ranking nobility, chewed gum as he spoke. It took another endless 15 minutes just to get a single certificate.

“Sign here and go to the interview room on the second floor. Interviews are conducted one at a time.”

I stood waiting on the second floor for another 40 minutes. I desperately longed for the gun I’d left in the car. It was only when my patience, which I had for the next 20 years, was about to run out that my number was called.

This time, an old man with the same chrysanthemum badge greeted me with yawns. After a few half-hearted questions for about three minutes, he furiously berated me for 17 minutes about the legal repercussions of evading Pax tax obligations. Only after pounding the table and showering me with spit did he let me go. It was infuriating. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t get rid of these incompetent lower-class nobles rotting away in the kingdom’s administrative agencies.

When I left the center, it was 5 PM. I headed to the restaurant I had a reservation at. I arrived two hours late for my appointment with Mr. Castlemaine. Naturally, Mr. Castlemaine was nowhere to be seen. I called to apologize and asked if he could come back to the restaurant. Mr. Castlemaine responded:

“I expected things to take this long, so I’ve been watching a drama at home. I’m on my way now.”

As expected, older people had an air of wisdom. We spent the meal venting our frustrations about government employees. After enjoying the conversation in moderation, we wrapped up and left.

It was a night when the gray sky was slowly getting soaked with pristine white snowflakes. I headed home with Ray. I turned up the car stereo volume and said:

“Aren’t you tired? It’ll take quite some time to get home, so why don’t you rest, Ray?”

“This is nice. What’s playing?”

“Vivaldi. You’re probably familiar with the flowing bowing melody, it’s

.”

Ray nodded, gazing out the window. He was unusually quiet today. I tilted my head. What’s up with him? It was supposed to be a special and pleasant day.

“Did something happen at the hospital? You don’t look too happy.”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s not that. I’m just tired. I can’t believe standing for just two hours made me so sleepy. I must really be out of shape. Maybe I should start running more.”

Ray smiled as he answered. I shrugged.

“If you suddenly raise your exercise level, it might backfire. You’ll be fine once you start working at the secondhand bookstore. Working every day is far better than an hour of exercise at home.”

I emphasized “bookstore” while glancing sideways at Ray. He nodded and said, “I need to start working soon.” His expression was full of enthusiasm.

“Actually, I’m curious. I’ve never even seen my secondhand bookstore on 42nd Street. Come to think of it, I haven’t asked about the name either. How is it, my shop?”

“Hmm. Your bookstore on 42nd Street was quite famous for selling used art books and historical texts to the poor artists in the area. You said business was pretty good, except during the slow winter months.”

“Ah, I see.”

“The new shop you’re moving to looks very similar to the old one. Let’s visit the new place tomorrow. There’s a small art college 30 minutes away, so it’ll be a great spot to sell books. Oh, and your bookstore has a unique name—

.”

“

.”

“Sounds like something out of a gothic novel, doesn’t it? Let’s keep that sign. It’s old and moss-covered, which gives it a nice vintage charm. When you move, why don’t you go to 42nd Street too? After all, you worked there for so long, it’d be nice to see it at least once.”

Ray nodded and said, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

I tapped the steering wheel. The traffic was maddeningly slow. I could see the Violet Cathedral in the distance. It seemed like the line of cars was heading there for mass. I should have braved the detour through T-field.

I thought about nudging Ray, but I refrained. It was a special day, wasn’t it? I was planning on something grand once we got home. I had everything mapped out. I was determined to make it a night Ray would never forget.

“Messara, should we go check out that cathedral?”

Ray suddenly said. I stopped tapping the wheel in tune with the music.

“Why the Violet Cathedral all of a sudden? You said you were tired.”

“It’s just… today’s a special day, and I don’t want to only remember the tyranny of government employees. When I look back on this day, I’d like to remember stopping by the cathedral and listening to hymns.”

Ray mumbled. Remembering this day as a visit to the cathedral to hear hymns, huh… The emperor of zero-sense and zero-mood was definitely not one to say such things. His intentions were all too clear.

You want to show

how well you’re doing, don’t you?

I almost suggested just heading home, but I changed my mind. It was so absurd that it made me laugh. Even Ray’s timid glance in my direction seemed to fuel my amusement.

Ha ha ha.

Well, it wasn’t bad.

It was fine. Ray was trying his hand at revenge (?) in his own way. It was a million times better than wallowing in nightmares. It was worth encouraging. Even the doctor had advised me not to dismiss Ray’s delusions outright.

“Sure. I’ve never been to the Violet Cathedral either, so I’m curious. I hear there are many royal tombs there. Maybe we’ll even see the grave of that vile king’s family who killed the Snow Queen. Let’s take a look.”

“…Yeah…”

Ray bit his lip, narrowing his eyes. I just shrugged. It was ridiculous but somehow funny at the same time. If this was considered a personality trait, it was an impressive one.

The cathedral was packed. Located on 33rd Street, where the wealthy and nobles congregated, most of the people who had come for mass were dressed in extravagant attire. I recognized quite a few familiar nobles.

The inside of the famous cathedral was just as grand as expected. I found myself momentarily entranced by the magnificent ceiling mural that extended from the towering pillars. The choir was practicing ahead of the mass, and their singing, mixed with the sound of the pipe organ, reverberated throughout the space.

“It’s considered the greatest architectural masterpiece of the 16th century. Starting in the 17th century, many prominent royal tombs were relocated here. I heard that Daytanz’s parents were originally buried elsewhere before being moved here around that time,” Ray explained as we sat down. I asked, “What about Levitan?”

“She was once entombed here, but she was moved elsewhere,” Ray replied.

“Why?”

“The brilliant 18th-century statesman Drulein moved her tomb. Drulein was in conflict with Count Chiara Frugoni, who was the eldest son of the Frugoni family—a family that prospered until the 18th century after Daytanz’s death.”

“So it was part of a purge.”

“More accurately, it was part of the effort to oust monarchical politics. Drulein, intent on establishing parliamentary politics, pushed for a constitutional monarchy. At the age of 39, this young statesman orchestrated Chiara’s purge and spread all kinds of political propaganda. Removing Levitan’s tomb from this cathedral was one such propaganda effort.”

“Wow, Drulein was only 39 at the time? No wonder he was such a celebrated statesman. So that’s why the Frugoni family no longer exists among the current noble houses.”

“But here’s something interesting I just thought of,” Ray mused.

“What is it?”

Ray paused in thought.

“This is quite amusing… Drulein’s full name is Drulein LastrelLee Pusher. In other words, the current Lotus Pusher is Drulein’s descendant.”

I burst out laughing. “Really? I’ve heard that the current Lotus family is so rich they don’t even care about embezzlement. And now you’re telling me that the man who paralyzed himself during plastic surgery is Drulein’s descendant? That’s hilarious!”

Ray smiled quietly as I continued to laugh.

“Pusher isn’t as soft as he seems. It’s possible that lying in bed, pretending to be paralyzed, is all part of a carefully calculated scheme. It could be a classic case of ‘using barbarians to control barbarians.'”

“Haha… Haha… wait, ‘using barbarians to control barbarians’?” My laughter began to fade. Suddenly, I felt like I was back at the restaurant, staring across the table at Ray as he said, “Study for one hour, get first place…”

Ray lowered his gaze, as he always did when lost in thought.

“Before I remembered that Pusher was Drulein’s descendant, I didn’t think much of it… but now I suspect that, given Pusher’s age, his insight must be sharp. A man like that wouldn’t overlook Duke Vardi. I believe Pusher saw through Vardi’s ambitions during the Queen’s inheritance issue.”

“……”

“The Queen’s inheritance wasn’t just some accident. Pusher probably noticed Vardi’s opportunistic behavior. But with Vardi being the king’s sister and supported by younger bureaucrats, Pusher couldn’t just purge him outright. So he used various excuses to extend his hospital stay, subtly feeding Vardi’s anxiety.”

Right now, the other name for a mute was “Snake.”

“Pusher cleverly manipulated things so that Vardi would seek out Snake on his own. The duke thought Pusher’s illness was a golden opportunity to do as he pleased, but in reality, that only led to Snake casting him aside. Snake isn’t the type to rely on the king’s sister. He knows it’s far more advantageous to side with the non-noble faction.”

“……”

“Meanwhile, Snake, focused on getting rid of Vardi, would be caught off guard when it comes to the Queen’s succession issue. Pusher likely calculated this and left Vardi’s elimination to Snake while focusing all his efforts on securing the Queen’s succession. He may have even sent a beautiful woman to the king at the royal party. He’s sitting back and reaping all the benefits. If my predictions are correct, Pusher is a cunning old fox.”

The Camellia Grove.

A shiver ran down my spine. The truth suddenly became clear. The connection between “Lotus” Drulein, who had a fascination with Japan, and “Lotus” Pusher, who was known for his Japanese-style fan and Camellia Japonica, was obvious: Japan.

Different eras, but the same Japanese taste connected the two “Lotuses.” My subconscious had been trying to alert me to the significance of the Camellia Grove. Maybe I overheard someone mentioning that Pusher was Drulein’s descendant while wandering through the party.

But foolishly, I had forgotten.

It must have slipped my mind, only to resurface when Cooperhead mentioned Drulein. It was that moment when I had been gazing at the Camellia Grove, musing that if the Queen succession war began, Pusher would abandon his appearance and focus entirely on politics. I had subconsciously recognized the blood relationship between Pusher and Drulein.

It was infuriating. How could I have forgotten something so important? I felt as foolish as Daytanz when he forgot his wife’s name.

Ray’s observations were spot on. The decisive reason Karl extended a hand to us was Pusher’s ambiguous attitude. The only public updates on Lotus had been videos released by Pusher’s people. No one other than his wife, daughter, attending physician, and private nurse had access to Pusher’s hospital room.

In other words, no one outside that group had actually seen the “paralyzed Lotus.” Even we had only managed to gather scraps of information from a nurse we’d bribed. It had all been a performance—a damn play.

That old man was trying to use me?

My clenched fists trembled with anger. It was the worst insult I’d faced since Ryeong. But it was fine. The royal party had only been held three times. I resolved to investigate everyone who had interacted with Pusher’s daughter in the past three weeks.

“Messara? Why are you glaring at the choir?” Ray asked, tilting his head in confusion. I snapped out of my thoughts.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just surprised at how large the choir members’ mouths are. You can see their red throats from all the way over here, haha. By the way, you seem really into politics, Ray. Have you been keeping up with the news in the break room?”

Ray’s expression faltered for a moment as if caught off guard. I laughed generously this time.

“Well, since you find it so interesting, I can’t complain. I have to say, your insights are quite sharp and rather entertaining.”