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8. Missing Pieces

Taylor left the room only at dawn. He whispered reassuringly in my ear.

“Don’t worry. Once we start collecting, they’ll have to sell their houses or spill their secrets to pay up.”

“It’d be nice if they gave it up quickly.”

“Glacies is efficient. It shouldn’t take more than a few days unless there are any unexpected hindrances.”

Taylor, with a shy tone of pride, added that it was really a coincidence that he got beaten up by a knight, scratching his head awkwardly afterward.

He looked like a child seeking praise, which was endearing. I chuckled and straightened his clothes.

“So, even after the warning, you let it happen?”

“….”

“I’m joking. I have something else to ask this time. How much per question?”

The world’s most renowned assassin, uncharacteristically, couldn’t immediately quote a price. It was evident that he wanted something else, which made me laugh.

After waiting a while, he made an adorably awkward request.

“…Hug me.”

“Let’s make it fifty gold.”

“…Mel.”

He lowered his head in disappointment. I shrugged nonchalantly and asked, “Why?” His lips twitched, and his eyes, stained with obsession, blinked slowly. It was amusing to see him struggle to hold back.

“…Forty.”

“Oh my.”

I clapped my hands and smiled brightly.

“You’re quite generous. Then I’ll ask for two things. One, find out what the former Grand Duke sent to Beatrice, and two, about Florencia’s attempted poisoning of the Crown Prince.”

You don’t need to bring a detailed report. The faster, the better.

Just do as much as you can with what you get. I added.

Taylor stared at me intently, as if his business was entirely concluded. The face that Calix Hamel once showed me was faintly illuminated in the moonlight.

Ah, yes. Such clingy emotions have changed so much.

My lips twisted. It was astonishing that all the events in the novel were driven by these emotions.

It was regrettable if anything. Unlike the protagonist of the novel, I had no intention of being swayed by their obsessions like Beatrice Rosen.

“Let me tell you something interesting.”

Of all my visitors, only you call me by my nickname, apart from my sister.

That was why I could say it. It would be arrogant to think I could fully control the dual nature of my emotions, but there was nothing wrong with using them.

Before Taylor could respond, I waved him off and whispered.

“Have a safe trip.”

He seemed very pleased. He took satisfaction in using my nickname. I looked up at the sky, reassured by his simplicity.

The dawn was breaking. I closed my eyes, unable to properly face the morning sun, the same color as my eyes.

It was a complete morning. Another day began in this cramped room.

I sat, as always, in my boring room, looking out the window. The space that Taylor had left only a few hours ago felt surprisingly cold, so I stopped thinking and squinted at the rising sun.

‘I asked him to look into it…’

It’s obvious that the social scene will be turned upside down once the collection begins in earnest.

If evidence of my sister’s and the Crown Prince’s poisoning attempt comes to light, that would be ideal.

The ground below seemed endlessly distant. I suddenly felt the reality of having been confined here for weeks. I bit my lip. I was getting tired.

My silver-purple hair once again spread across the white bed sheets, and I laughed as if I were about to cry, covering my face at the familiar sight.

For someone with a normal mental state, being confined in a room like this for weeks wouldn’t be pleasant. It was the same for me.

“I just wanted to buy time…”

My voice was devoid of energy. Yes, I really just wanted to buy time.

Calix Hamel broke out of prison a month before his execution, and Taylor followed suit. My sister’s execution was now less than a month away. In the time that had been cut in half, all I had achieved was confirming an obsession that had no direct connection to Florencia, which was frustrating.

“I haven’t done anything.”

Really, nothing at all.

The actions a supporting character can take are extremely limited. The realization of that fact didn’t feel good.

I stared blankly at my own reflection lying down in the small mirror placed on the table.

Long, wavy silver-purple hair down to my waist, unusually deep crimson eyes, pale skin, and a languid expression. A western beauty of twenty-two.

Yes, it was clearly the appearance of MargaretEilish, not Jung Eunha. I looked at myself, who was me but not me, and muttered with a dry laugh.

Should I buy a wig?

Black should do. Or brown. Yeah, brown hair is quite common here, so it shouldn’t be hard to find. It would be nice to have at least one outfit similar to modern times.

A rare smile formed amid my scattered thoughts.

If I have to go back anyway, it might be nice to recreate my true appearance here first. They who are obsessed with me don’t know me, and I have never revealed myself as the real Jung Eunha while playing the supporting role of ‘MargaretEilish’, so it might be fun.

Yeah. Before going back, just once.

‘…’

When I asked Kestiel if I could stay, the memory lingered.

He didn’t give a proper answer. I understood because it was natural.

‘It seems they’re taking care of it on their own…’

Whatever. I closed my eyes.

Time was pushing me to the edge of a cliff. Annoyed by the familiarity of life and death hanging by a thread, I clicked my tongue.

It was an undeniable fact that the ending was starting to twist, but I hadn’t yet found anything that could affect my sister, making me more anxious.

‘Would it be the same if it changed?’

Such a thought crossed my mind. Whatever the outcome, wouldn’t I be returning anyway?

It wasn’t just a wild guess. Though MargaretEilish in the mirror was me, I had never really thought of it as truly ‘me’.

The outline of my real appearance emerged in my mind.

Memories of being Jung Eunha swirled in my head. A small room, a vibrating stench, a wardrobe, a faintly open door, my father’s back, me inside the wardrobe. The desire to get out, the murderer behind me asking where I was going…

I was annoyed. Although I wasn’t the type to dwell on the past, those memories were enough to create discomfort.

I never thought I didn’t want to go back, but I had never been sure of it either. I gritted my teeth. First, I had to get out of this small room.

Even though Kestiel visited occasionally, I was reaching my limit. After lying there for thirty minutes that felt as slow as a turtle, I finally got up and changed clothes.

I felt irritation in my hands as I changed into new clothes without the help of a maid.

The relatively simple clothes, unlike what a noble’s child would wear, were another reminder that I was a supporting character.

Considering greeting the knight who didn’t speak to me before afternoon, out of respect for my habit of sleeping late, I decided against it and gathered my hair high into a ponytail.

“If they don’t let me out today, I’ll just jump out the window.”

Clicking my tongue, I spun around to check my outfit. It was much earlier than the time the maids brought washing water, so I decided to use this time to tidy up the junk I used and approached the desk. Some documents, ink, and a moon-shaped seal my sister gave me were scattered messily around a candle with falling ash.

“…Come to think of it, I haven’t seen my sister use this properly since then.”

I muttered softly, fiddling with the seal. It wasn’t surprising since, both in the original work and in reality, there was no depiction of Florentia Eilish using her abilities to commit misdeeds.

The day a few years ago when I tried to stop my sister, the memory of almost being blinded by a fountain pen was still vividly imprinted.

That incident played the biggest role in breaking my will to stop Florentia’s misdeeds.

‘I wish I could read the original work one more time.’

Then, I might have found some clues. Or is it the same since it’s the circumstances of the villains that the author omitted?

Powerless assumptions lingered in my mind.

“Abilities…”

In the original work, it was only described that abilities were either bestowed by the magic tower or inherent. In my sister’s case, it would be the former. But there was too little information on the former. I scratched my head.

Florentia dealt with telekinesis, and Glacies didn’t know about it. The commission letter would be lying somewhere in front of the building as usual, with symbols representing abilities stamped or embroidered on it, influenced by the abilities.

That was why I could deliver letters remotely—their assumption was that Florentia’s ability was just a code of the black market.

The paradox of Florentia, the brutal villainess, was found here. It was no wonder to have doubts about the fact that she would give up such abilities so easily and use such an obvious method to torment Beatrice.

From the moment she first revealed her abilities to me in anger, she…

“…Kestiel.”

Suddenly struck by a sentence that echoed in my mind, I stood up and approached the door.

Yes, my sister said she wasn’t as evil as known. I opened the door wide.

There was something I had to find. The sword that the deceased jailer had in his hand. That time, my sister…

“…You came out to greet me, indeed.”

A cold voice pierced my ears. I widened my crimson eyes.

There, standing in front of the wide-open door, was the crown prince.

Goodness. Such perfect timing.

With a bitter laugh, I took a step back and greeted him.

The golden eyes that were always described as shining like the sun now looked so tired that he didn’t seem to have the energy to even acknowledge my greeting, but it didn’t matter.

“I greet the little sun of the empire. May the goddess’s blessing be with you.”

As expected—not that there was any need to expect otherwise—he chose to glare at me with irritation instead of engaging in a tedious argument over etiquette.

Beside him, I noticed Kestiel standing with an expressionless face. His look briefly flashed an apology, so I subtly acknowledged his struggle by lowering my eyebrows in understanding.

And then there was the crown prince again. He looked like a judge, ready to condemn me. I waited for him to start lashing out, his eyes already considering me the villain.

“You…”

He began with a clenched jaw. I responded with a simple “Yes,” indicating I was listening, which seemed to displease him even more.

His tone, which sounded both startled and simply angry, came out as a growl, marked by blatant fatigue and frustration.

I easily noticed that he was in a quite unstable psychological state.

Growling like a wounded beast.

I found myself amused by the high quality of this portrayal, which seemed to mock it. His eyes, glaring like a beast, were truly obvious.

‘Wasn’t it described as a wolf?’

But in the end, it’s just a dog. One with reason and capable of whining when its weaknesses are exposed.

As I made this assessment, a word dripping with rage fell from his lips. It was a sentence close to interrogation.

“What on earth did you say to them?”

“Them?”

“The criminals. Why are they all trying to find something from you? How did someone like you coax those madmen?”

Ah. I laughed. Come to think of it, did the crown prince know that I had been visiting criminals?

‘I even bribed them quite a bit; it could be risky if that was discovered.’

I shrugged with calculation. My nonchalant response was calm.

“Do you remember what you were trying to find in Lady Rosen?”

“Ridiculous. Are you saying they love you or something?”

“Romantic, but no. I don’t think so. But I believe there might be a similar emotion. There was only one Lady Rosen, and she ignored others to understand you. They knew that… so they needed a substitute.”

That substitute was me. When you’re dying, even straws look like lifelines.

Daemon couldn’t respond. Yet, I won’t deny the fact that his cold smile and outstretched hand towards me were somewhat intimidating.

He was acting as if he was being chased by something. The collection had just started when he hadn’t noticed, but it already felt like he was being driven by something.

I maintained my silence until he finally let out a mocking insult, saying he’d release my probation.

“Your father’s family ends today.”

“Then I’ll have to buy a new family name. What would be good, Cielyn?”

“That won’t ever happen. Just like your father, and soon, your beloved sister.”

His evil smile froze me.

“Because of you.”

I couldn’t hide my grim expression. The crown prince, with a voice full of triumph, spoke cheerfully.

“There’s a witness.”

“What can mere testimony…”

“Ha, have you forgotten that I hold imperial power?”

Starting from the grand duke, to the jailer, and even Kestiel, there’s no place your influence hasn’t touched. Do you think I need more justification? The letter the grand duke sent to Tris speaks for itself; what’s the problem with insufficient evidence?

His hand stopped near my neck. The touch was chillingly cold, making me involuntarily recoil like a frightened animal.

Satisfied with this, he placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

“I’ve won. The execution is moved up, and your sister will die in two weeks. You may go.”

I spat back with just as much irritation and anger.

“Amazing.”

Kestiel bowed his head politely. I gave a slight smile to the knight bowing behind the crown prince and walked past all of them.

It would have been nice if I could exude a murderous aura, but that was just a fleeting thought.

It didn’t matter. My probation was over, the bribery charges were not recognized, and now I had about two weeks left. There was no time to waste on someone like him.

The weather was nice. The emblem stamped with red ink swayed in my pocket. For the first time, I understood my father’s murderous intent and bit my lip.

I had to meet the grand duke. Or maybe visit home first.