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But why?

I struggled to organize my thoughts within my complex mind. It continued until the prince vented his frustration at me.

“Well, Young Lady. You seem less desperate than I thought.”

He twisted his lips. I narrowed my eyes, trying to grasp his intentions for a moment before straightforwardly retorting.

“Do I need to be desperate?”

“If you truly value your sister, there should be some sincerity in your actions.”

“Oh my.”

The prince was undoubtedly a brilliant strategist when it came to warfare. That was an indisputable fact. However, he seemed clueless about what lay behind the conclusion he had created.

Or maybe he was deliberately avoiding it. After all, how many protagonists would care about the fate of the antagonist?

The crucial point was that he had underestimated me. Just by seeing how he controlled the conversation with an air of authority, it was evident.

It was a pitiable role. I, somewhat irreverently, took a step forward and woke him up to reality.

Is it really because the antagonist is weak when they face the protagonist? If someone asked me this question, I could confidently say no.

As common as the cliché of the antagonist’s defeat might be, it wasn’t because they were inherently weak.

They generally fell due to a protagonist exploiting their weaknesses, a chance opportunity for a counterattack, or being overtaken for an inevitable reason. It wasn’t about being weak.

Protagonists shouldn’t become arrogant. I stared at the prince’s golden eyes with piercing intensity.

Coincidences don’t happen as often as you think.

“Your Highness, please.”

I spoke with a tone that sounded like resentment, singing my words.

“Why do you think the nobles of the Imperial faction borrowed money from Florencia? At that interest rate?”

“…?”

“Now, please look at reality properly.”

The joint business conducted by Florencia and Glacius, even if it were just empty words, couldn’t be considered of high quality. They did anything for money, and according to the description in the original work, my sister was wicked enough to get involved in such matters.

In reality, Florencia was someone who could turn a blind eye to others’ misdeeds. I pondered over the list of some debtors written in the ledger.

Loans could be applied for only for amounts exceeding a certain level. The loan limit wasn’t set, and as long as you stated the reason for borrowing money, it seemed like a simple and convenient system.

In Glacius, they shared the borrowed amount and the reason for the loan in exchange for an information usage fee, and Florencia combined her own funds with Glacius’s capital to match the amount they desired.

Then, an enormous interest rate was attached, and after signing a pledge specifying the due date, they pledged real estate or items as collateral from that moment when they borrowed the money.

For nobles with a way to escape abroad, hiring guild members for surveillance would be enough. From the moment they took out the loan, their ‘ownership’ was entirely in the hands of the antagonist and the guild.

“They probably didn’t think my sister would hand over the entire business right to me.”

I waited for the prince to show some reaction after brushing away the floating strands of hair in my view with an indifferent touch.

Once the due date passed, the items pledged as collateral belonged to Florencia. Occasionally, if the collateral was confidential information of the royal family or a major noble, Glacius would pay Florencia money and take it on their behalf. After that, an astronomical amount of interest would be added.

The piled-up debts became increasingly difficult to bear as they piled up. Some might assert that it would be fine to repay the money before such a situation arose, but, well.

Not just anyone could muster the courage to borrow such a huge sum of money.

Debts for hired assassinations to clean up drugs, gambling, or government agencies that caught onto my weaknesses, as well as lowlifes eyeing my property, were something not anyone could handle. Absolutely not.

Florencia and Glacius knew this fact very well. Repaying the money was truly a minority story.

I smirked, stretching my lips. My once languid and indifferent face now smirked arrogantly, just like my sister’s.

When Florencia began to antagonize Beatrice, the nobles sensed her downfall. That was because Florencia had been humiliated and weakened in front of Beatrice, the prince, or other potential male protagonists more than once.

So, they did not repay the money, predicting the antagonist’s downfall with a relaxed mind. Beatrice promised to “save” those who had been forced to borrow money due to Florencia’s schemes, and they believed in her promise without any doubt.

The result was dismal.

Except for Florencia. Glacius was a more ruthless group than the prince or the former duke when it came to money. And they were a group with the patience to wait until the interest swelled enough.

They had no interest in changes in their business partners.

“Now, do you understand?”

I explained with a smile.

“You won, Your Highness. But there’s no guarantee it won’t happen again.”

Reflected in the crimson eyes, the prince grinned with a smirk. I closed my mouth in bewilderment, feeling a sensation as if a knife had passed through my throat, just like before.

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

The prince was clearly wearing a smile that was ruthlessly distorted. But his face was unmistakably someone I had seen somewhere before.

‘I wonder if it’s too early to be certain. No, no.’

I finally relaxed my body, which had been trembling. Something I didn’t know clearly existed.

Perhaps the original work also omitted the protagonist’s circumstances. The need for time to prove my sister’s innocence was further justified.

The prince, with an anxious tone disguised as composure, precisely said this.

“But there’s not much time left until that second victory. So, you can expect it. Just for a while, beyond that recklessness. Damn Eilish.”

He said.

* * *
Calix Hamel knew that his talent was not suitable for anything particularly good. Nevertheless, he was grateful for that talent.

The influence of Glacius was broader than he had thought. Although they considered the guild members who had already been captured as “failures” and did not bother to rescue them, at least they paid attention to the gold coins Calix had stolen.

In addition, they praised the suggestion to “recycle” the failures by bringing in blueprints and secret information from the prison.

Ultimately, they promised more extensive support than Calix’s existing subordinates.

For those temporarily leaving the labor camp to deliver gold coins outside, it was not difficult. Using the hidden gold coins, prisoners who had to participate in forced labor, being non-nobles, were able to negotiate successfully with Glacius.

Disguised as civilians, members of the guild handed over bottles of gold coins, pouring out from the loose sleeves of their work clothes, while pretending to be friendly. Those who received the gold coins, readily contacted the remaining anti-royal forces.

The establishment of the information network happened in an instant.

Among the transmitted information was news about Margaret, as well as the current political situation. Therefore, Calix led a comfortable life as an “upper-class” person, so comfortable that he could not believe he was in prison, excluding the fact that his current mood was not very good.

The plan went smoothly. Everything was perfect, except for the fact that he didn’t feel so great at the moment.

As always, Margaret sent him painkillers and simple disinfectants through the caretaker. When he realized that the amount of medicine arriving each day was precisely calculated for the remaining days until execution, the feeling was beyond description!

Even while gritting his teeth, Calix politely asked for his thanks to be conveyed.

The caretaker didn’t give a definite answer, but anyway, he said he would give it a try.

The news that came through the established network was neither good nor bad. Perpetual sobriety, he muttered.

There were many rumors about a collaboration between the prince and Beatrice. lord Eilish seemed to be having quite a hard time with that matter. Margaret’s excessively indifferent response to the whole situation was making the situation even more confusing.

Beatrice, still active in the social circle, expressed anxiety, wondering if she was conspiring with her sister for wrongdoing.

“In the end, was it only to that extent? It seems like I really lost my mind.”

Calix slowly lowered his eyelids, sparkling with malice, as he recalled a woman he had once loved.

… I guess I’ll have to accept it. He admitted that his past self was a blind idiot.

The sense of unnamed discomfort came when he seriously thought about Beatrice while preparing for his escape.

A woman he had once loved. A woman who, apart from her product, gave him a sense of despair. A woman who provided him with reasons to rebel. A woman who wandered through his mind without discrimination…

Calix remembered the way he poured out his emotions to Beatrice. It might have been sincere. It must have been.

“…Was it sincere?”

Chills ran down his spine. He was horrified by the fact that he couldn’t be sure.

Yes, he had once loved and been obsessed, that was true. But why was there not even a trace of those emotions now?

Calix clicked his tongue irritably. The inexplicable discomfort was evident on his face. He was half-angry at the difficulty of guessing what his past self had done.

But that was all.

Calix quickly turned off his interest in those facts. He judged it as a waste of time and decided not to waste precious time on useless matters.

Calix was someone who always kept his word.

He divided his share of the alcohol among some fellow inmates as promised and even taught them how to create a space under the workshop tub to pour alcohol separately.

Calix’s popularity within the prison was increasing day by day. He also explained the tricks to support colleagues who drank alcohol to the censor officers from both sides.

In exchange for hiding gold coins and building a network of contacts, after hard labor, they were able to satisfy their cravings for smoking and drinking.

With his gaze fixed on the calendar, Calix narrowed his eyes tiredly.

“Tsk.”

He clicked his tongue irritably. There wasn’t much time left until the execution.

Nevertheless, Calix sat leisurely in the visitation room, looking directly ahead with a relaxed gaze that seemed almost dangerous, waiting for Margaret.

It had been over two weeks since Kestiel Reload left to monitor Margaret. In the meantime, although his methods were sloppy, he had managed to succeed in building a somewhat systematic relationship with the military gods. And as the number of people dreaming of escape increased within the prison, it was like the eve of a storm.

Instead of Kestiel, who appeared shortly afterwards, a man in charge of supervising and overseeing the prison guards was present. He had as stern and strict a demeanor as the original occupant of the seat. Calix did not behave rudely.

“You are the Duke of Rumors, aren’t you?”

He used a polite tone in his own way. Calix looked at him quietly, and the other person narrowed his brows as if annoyed.

“I’m not sure why you wanted to see me separately, but your actions will all be reported to the Knight Commander.”

“I know that much. I’m not stupid.”

Calix replied in an indifferent tone. There was no need to reveal his weakness by warning of any signs of danger in a situation where there was no apparent danger.

Calix raised his head, sensing how relatively weak the people under Kestiel Reload were.

“I just called you because I need to be discreet.”

Discreet.

The supervisor quickly composed his expression and nodded seriously, indicating his willingness to listen.

Clearly, Sinalore was a prison known for its hostile atmosphere between prisoners and guards. It was ranked third among the worst prisons surveyed in the continent, and first in solitary ranking, Alcatraz. It was indeed a place where the first temporary administrator was tormented by intangible pressure.

But unexpectedly.

“…There have been no incidents.”

He was surprised. It was true that the relationship between the guards and the prisoners was irreparably bad. They often spat insults at the guard’s family and were quick to physically assault them, almost to the point of near-murder, until they made a proper apology.

But apart from such sporadic incidents, they were really obeying the given duties without any fuss. Truly without any fuss.

“Please tell me more precisely.”