After hearing Edgar’s story through their intelligence, I felt like the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place in my head. A person who wants to tarnish Anais O’Brien’s reputation in some way. At the same time, someone who is trained enough for me not to read his presence. Also, a person who is so good at infiltration that he can easily change the Fitzsimmons Times while avoiding the eyes of Edwards and Chavez. It could only be Illestia’s spy, at the very least. Or Marquise Bolton or Keran Illestia himself, at most.
“It could happen. There’s no reason not to. I’m quite fond of Anais, but I would have done the same if I had been Keran.”
“That’s too much. If it were me, I wouldn’t have done that.”
As I grumbled, kicking the rock that touched my toes, Edgar laughed out loud.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t.”
***
In truth, at this point, it didn’t really matter who it was that had tried to slander Anais. The scandal was coming to an end as a lie, and catching the culprit wouldn’t mean that Anais would suddenly regain her shattered self-esteem and shake off the pain of her heartbreak.
In other words, it was for personal satisfaction. I didn’t have the experience that Bree had to empathize with Anais. I couldn’t make her laugh with a song like Kelly could. I wasn’t as good at giving advice or comforting people as Liz was. The only person I’ve ever comforted in my life was the crybaby young master of the Villard Manor, and as easily as he cried, it was a breeze to soothe him.
Without experience, singing ability, or compassion, the only thing I had to show off was my strong body. There weren’t many ways for me to help my same-mold sister with my strong body. Those were enough reasons for me to leave the dormitory at the crack of dawn.
Actually, the person I wanted to beat the most was Marvin Donnelly, but that was honestly impossible. Not only physically, but because of the diplomatic issues that would arise if the mere daughter of Viscount Milua defeated the Duke of Illestia’s right-hand man— perhaps because of his quick action, Baron Donnelly was still holding his position!
Defeating an Illestia’s spy, well, it seemed possible. Due to the special nature of a spy’s status, it would be difficult to create diplomatic issues like Baron Donnelly. Of course, rather than beating up the spy, there was a higher chance of me getting beaten instead. However, I know my reliable dragon knight would be more willing to take revenge for his friend who had been beaten.
If Jaden, who was so kind, refused to get his hands dirty, there was also the option of Eddie, a genius wizard. I have yet to give him a suitable wish.
Anyway, so here I was, stuck in the bushes near the girls’ dormitory with a notebook, a sword, and a magnifying glass for days. The notebook was to ease my guilt as a student about to take an exam, and the sword was for emergencies. The magnifying glass was just for appearance’s sake: to look cool.
Cornelia Villard, the only bookworm in the Villard mansion, was obsessed with violence, murder, suspense, and mystery. She also had grand dreams of becoming a great writer, and she enjoyed telling others about the mystery novels she was working on as long as they made eye contact with her.
Cornelia was also a Villard, so she too had a very persistent personality. In the end, when all the Villards except Kyle got completely fed up with Cornelia, I was singled out as the great writer Cornelia Villard’s only listener and source of inspiration because of my sincere responses. Kyle, on the other hand, was being treated like an invisible person by Cornelia due to the harsh criticism he provided.
Thus, I became well-versed in many of the clichés of mystery novels. For example, ‘the criminal always reappears at the scene’.
Moreover, because of Brianna Mosley’s terrifying abilities, the killer was unable to damage Anais’ reputation. If I were the culprit, I would be stamping my feet by now, eager to find solid evidence. If I were to witness another secret affair, it would be perfect if I could capture the scene with magic ink. There was a possibility of returning with that kind of mindset.
While thinking about this and that, I was looking through a magnifying glass at an insect the size of a fingernail sitting on a blade of grass. Suddenly, the sound of a shoe stepping on wet soil caught my ear. Footsteps. Very light, overly cautious, getting closer and closer.
The great detective was not at the Villard Mansion but at Fitzsimmons Academy. I stood up vigorously, admiring my own deductive ability.
“James Pannington?”
“Ariel Dalton?”
“Oh my god, you… are a Miluanian.”
Even Norman Casey, who didn’t know how to spell properly, knew that a Miluanin couldn’t be a spy for Illestia.
“What do you mean?”
He is a 5th-grade male student from Milua. A boy so skinny that the bones stick out in his elbows and knees. His black hair hangs down his face like seaweed stems, and the corners of his mouth are drooping. James ‘Jimmy’ Pannington, whom I had met at the flying squirrel farm, blushed in bewilderment.
Only then did I realize that I had made a huge mistake. In the first place, the issue was not whether Pannington was from Milua or not. Considering that our fortune-telling class instructor, Miss Proctor— now Maeve Kirkpatrick was not really “Maeve Proctor” either.
And if he really wasn’t ‘James Pannington’, and if the reason we met at the flying squirrel farm was because he was there to check Faulkner’s letter just like me, it would be hard not to know that the words I had just thrown out had meant that I had blown up his cover. Sure enough, his expression changed completely.
“Are you one of Bailey’s minions?”
“No! I just—!”
I tried to deny it, but he didn’t seem to believe it. I quickly put my hand on the hilt of my sword. My original plan was to find out who the spy was and start a silly argument, threaten to cast a spell on him, or, if I was lucky, hit him a few times. However, since the opponent was Pannington, that was now out of the question.
Jimmy Pennington had a grudge against Ariel Dalton after being attacked by the ‘Sardine Witch’ at the flying squirrel farm. I even gave away that I was doubting his identity, so there was no way he would let me go safely.
“Are you going to kill me?”
Claiming that I didn’t know and I don’t care who fucking Bailey was wouldn’t be believable at this point. I slowly backed away and looked at Pannington. A short, slightly curved dagger protruded from his waistband.
“I guess I have to capture you alive first. Your identity is not certain. I also think I should report it to His highness. He’s taken quite a liking to you.”
“Keran?”
“I’ve always disliked you. No matter where I look, Rosemary Blossom is definitely better than you. The only thing you have is your title, and it’s not even worth bragging.”
“I’m sorry that it’s not something to be proud of.”
I couldn’t hold back, and I ended up being sarcastic. Pannington responded by swinging his dagger with his fingers and wrist as if performing tricks.
“No need to apologize. On the contrary, I’m grateful that you tripped over your own feet. Now His Highness will know what a disgusting human being you were.”
“Oh, Jimmy, what’s disgusting is the rotten fish that has poured out of your mouth!”
In the end, it was me who rushed in first. My sword had a longer range than his, so it was best to keep my distance, but I couldn’t ignore the emphasis on the importance of throwing a punch first instilled in me by old man Matthew, who taught me how to use a sword. First punch* is always right. First punch, sure win!
*(A slang term referring to the act of attacking the opponent first during a fight. Most ordinary fights end with the victory of the person who overpowers the opponent by striking first. There is a saying that goes, ‘If you throw the first punch, the fight is already half won.’)
“Even the way you handle the sword is messy, Dalton!”
Certainly, the skill gap between Pannington and me was quite large. He was a shadow of the crown prince, and I was just an aspiring knight in the countryside who just knew how to use a sword. Still, I was able to briefly overpower Pannington, leaving a shallow cut on his thigh.
But that was only because Pannington looked down on me. In my excitement, I lost my center of gravity for a moment, and that immediately turned the situation around. What followed was a one-sided beating. The only effective thing I was able to throw at him was the first punch that I ended up grinding up because I was careless.
As if to prove he wasn’t lying when he said he would capture me alive rather than kill me, he played with me without even taking his sword out of its scabbard. I realized once again how many opportunities Bolton and Jaden had given the brave Milua girl. I felt like I was going to pass out from all the blows to my forearms and waist.
Then it happened. Pannington’s movements suddenly stopped.
“Pannington?”
It wasn’t just his movement that stopped; I couldn’t hear his ragged breathing, or see his shoulders or stomach rise and fall. He just stood there, his legs drawn back, ready to kick me. It was as if he’d been taxidermied for an instant. I approached him, mesmerized by the strange sight.
[Fatal error occurred at 0028:C0003F20 in VMM+00002F20.]
Suddenly, I felt a burning pain in my right side. It was my weakness, the one that Marquis Bolton had pointed out to me. I reflexively bent over and felt the vivid sensation of steel tearing through my flesh. It was like flames bursting before my eyes.
[Remove the infected code immediately].
Pannington’s voice as he started muttering something sounded strange. No, it wasn’t Pannington’s voice. No, no. It wasn’t anyone’s voice. It was both a woman’s voice and a man’s voice. It sounded like a child’s babble and, at the same time, like an old man’s groans. No human could have made that sound. If it’s a human, that is.
Dark… Dark red blood dripped from the blade held in the hand of something that was Pannington. He is… No, she, no it… It wiped the flowing blood with its other hand and raised its sword again.
A horrible, screaming sound pierced my muffled ears. When I thought about it for a bit, I realized that it was my own scream. Tears welled up in my eyes in an instant. I couldn’t find any emotion on the face I saw through blurred vision. Like some kind of machine.
Am I going to die this time? Really? So pointlessly?
You can now sponsor an extra chapter by buying me a Ko-fi! 2 Ko-fi= 1extra chapter.
