<32>

9. The Price of Complacency

Even without identifying the person Sir Hyzen had killed with his sword, I could guess their affiliation. Clicking my tongue, I examined the black mask and dagger closely.

Ah, yes. The Crown Prince. I recalled hearing from a guard in Sinalore that assassins from his royal knights used such black daggers.

Handing the sword that had flown towards me back to Sir Hyzen, I averted my gaze from the bloodstained corpse.

The scenery outside the novel was no different. My entire body trembled, filled with a sense of anger.

The things the Crown Prince did to my sister for his position came rushing back to me.

Florencia was the only person I truly cared about in this twisted world. She was the only one who cared for me sincerely, showing pure affection towards me unlike the other characters in the original story. I took a deep breath.

“I need to go to the Grand Duke.”

The words slipped out almost unconsciously. Sir Hyzen dragged the corpse away, adding with a sigh,

“Sia also said to be cautious of your father.”

“My father… yes, my father.”

With a reflexive bitter laugh, I whispered.

It’s not about my father.

It never was. I never wanted a parent like that. I just hoped he wouldn’t be similar, but he was.

Sir Hyzen seemed not to fully grasp my meaning, but what did it matter?

I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge that I wasn’t really Margaret Eilish.

He nodded slightly, offering half-hearted agreement, and whispered,

“Let’s go.”

I entered the house to head upstairs. The house, now resembling the disgraceful end of the original story where it was shunned and pointed at, still appeared splendid.

Only the Marquis, unable to endure the disparity between superficial honor and grim reality, trembled in drunken shame.

He looked into my eyes and spat out words I had never heard in this novel, with a voice I had never heard before.

“You look like your mother.”

I tilted my head. I couldn’t understand why this irrelevant sentence came out now. My mother never held much importance to me anyway.

So I responded casually.

“Do I?”

“She was very cunning… and beautiful. Your eye color comes from her… damn it.”

“When did she pass away?”

“When you turned two. Yes, when you were two. I clearly remember Florencia’s cries.”

“I see. Two years old.”

He slammed the table. Red wine spilled on the floor.

“You do look like her. She often provoked me. Yes, Florencia grew up that way because of that woman. And you too…”

Ah, Father.

I had never shown genuine emotions to this father before me.

But today, at least right now, I couldn’t help it.

“What does that matter?”

The disgust in my tone was genuine. I had no time to listen to a story I didn’t care about.

And most importantly, I didn’t want to hear about my mother from ‘Father’s’ mouth, especially not from this Marquis who was just like my real father.

“Did you kill her?”

He remained silent. I laughed lightly.

“Save it.”

The real father overlapped with him. I cursed and warned this ink-and-paper character who felt too real.

“There’s nothing I need from this house anymore.”

The downfall of the family seemed inevitable. All his sacrifices and achievements for the noble faction had scattered meaninglessly like dust in the night sky.

Wearing the brown wig the butler had brought, I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

 

Jung Eunha. There stood Margaret who resembled Jung Eunha. I smiled faintly and walked out of the house.

 

* * *

Guilds, unlike in the real world, didn’t operate 24/7. This was due to the lack of advanced welfare and technology.

Thus, when I arrived, Glacies’ sign was dark.

“…”

I stared at the firmly closed main door. Sir Hyzen insisted on staying with me for reassurance, but knowing it was a pointless act, I chose to wait quietly. From inside, behind the barred windows, faint giggles echoed.

‘Of course.’

There was no way a criminal guild, especially one blatantly using the name ‘Knights’, would be asleep at night. Instead of knocking, I simply stood there, peering inside.

Drug smoke drifted out in thick clouds. Most murders happened at night or early morning, so it was to be expected.

The guild was obviously open.

I stood patiently in front of the door and called out in a clear voice.

“I’m here to find someone.”

The inside went silent. They seemed to be trying to gauge who I was. I shrugged, bouncing a moon-shaped emblem in my hand, waiting.

After a while, the sign lit up. Satisfied, I took a step forward.

“It’s Margaret.”

Margaret Eilish. Hearing the name repeated, there was a stir inside the building. I heard the sound of chairs scraping.

My lips curved into a round smile. Under the moonlight, I whispered like a ghost.

“Someone who might die soon…”

The door opened. I brightly smiled, taking in the sight of the man standing there with a dumbfounded expression.

A man who suited the night better than anyone. A man with colors akin to a demon. A tragic Grand Duke. And once, the first criminal I had visited.

His lips parted, his raspy voice tinged with surprised joy.

“…How kind of you.”

Turning my body to face him, I whispered casually as always.

“You should have stayed put.”

His eyes, distorted as if under some influence, widened blankly. I watched his pupils dilate as he took a breath and bowed slightly.

“Margaret.”

His voice sounded like he was seeing a hallucination. As always, I gently stroked his hair and took off my wig. My silver-lavender hair fluttered weakly in the moonlight.

Though he looked more haggard than before, he didn’t appear too disheveled. His once wild hair was trimmed, and his clean shirt, though haphazardly worn, was still neat.

The former Grand Duke gazed at me with a disbelieving expression for a long time. He didn’t seem to think his gaze might make me uncomfortable.

I sighed wearily, yet smiled.

“You haven’t reflected at all, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s all in the newspapers.”

He stepped back, startled and hurt. I laughed lightly and crossed the table.

The smoke-filled room aired out a bit as I entered, and as an important customer thanks to my sister, I was quickly led to the office.

The sound of Carlix closing the door behind me reached my ears.

…And locking it.

‘…This is why obsession is such a problem.’

I grumbled inaudibly. How long had it been since his release, and he was already trying to lock me up again?

But his eyes were too clouded for me to voice such thoughts. I chose to remain silent and sit down.

It was basic knowledge that one shouldn’t reason with someone under the influence of drugs, whether in this world or the other. Though I had no personal experience with drugs, I figured the same logic applied as with alcohol.

Feigning ignorance of his schemes, I tilted my head innocently. Carlix seemed satisfied, and I, lamenting the lack of an antidote, considered buying some sort of stimulant instead.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room briefly, then faded with his flushed voice.

“Did you come to see me?”

I nodded.

“How kind. So late, and yet I’m not angry.”

Carlix laughed pleasantly, seemingly in a very good mood. For a moment, I could forget the inherent misery he exuded.

Though it was only temporary.

“Why did you do it?”

The question, devoid of any preamble, implied, ‘Why did you do something so reckless?’ Despite its abruptness, it elicited a swift response.

“…You know. Don’t be so heartless. You don’t need to hide your desire to deny it.”

“I’m not denying it. I’m genuinely curious.”

I refrained from saying that I had no interest in his feelings for now.

The Grand Duke, who had gotten up and sat beside me, grasped my wrist gently and answered contentedly.

“You sent the drug too precisely.”

“I should have included a note.”

“Yes, that would have been better. Unfortunately, after learning from Beatrice, I wasn’t about to despair and contemplate suicide. If you had coaxed me, I might have come out more gently.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Believe it or not, it doesn’t matter. It’s already happened. At least I didn’t use my abilities.”

Carlix shook his head, seemingly disappointed at the lack of praise. I, as usual, supplemented my question with a neutral expression.

“I don’t like murderers. I wanted to ask if you were being selfish.”

“…If I said yes, you’d probably tell me to hang myself.”

“You’re smart.”

“Margaret.”

Carlix lowered his voice, looking at me intently.

He brought my wrist to his lips, asking ominously. It was a precise question, almost like an interrogation. He smiled slyly.

“So, were you really concerned?”

“…”

I tilted my head to see if he was serious.

While I naturally wanted to avoid evil, I wondered if my judgment was wrong or if this sharp-witted protagonist had seen through my act.

“Tell me, Margaret.”

Carlix placed his hand on my chin, gently turning my head. I didn’t resist, choosing to look at him instead.

“Of course, I know you don’t like this method. You might even think I’m trash. I understand that. You could probably laugh and say it was justice if I had hung myself. You’ve always been that way, from the first time we met. But.”

His breath felt cold against my ear. I didn’t try to pull away. Or rather, I couldn’t.

“But Margaret Eilish. Did you really care? Is it simply annoying, or are you genuinely scared?”

He added. Are you really living in this world?

Carlix’s ambiguous tone made me unsure if he was truly curious or just confirming something he already knew. Feeling his lips so close to my ear gave me goosebumps.

I raised my hand, placing my fingers on his lips. I was somewhat satisfied that my voice didn’t tremble as I answered.

“I’m curious where you heard that.”

Carlix removed his lips from my fingers. His eyes still hazy, he whispered mockingly, like a snake.

“This is an information guild, so we have many ears. So, what’s your answer?”

“Well, I wonder.”

I whispered back in a voice mirroring his.

“It doesn’t seem like you think it’s that important.”

A silence fell. He stood up and started laughing heartily. I let him laugh while my eyes searched for a window.

Sir Hyzen was strong, but there was no way he could defeat the protagonist, so I needed a way to coax Carlix into opening the door.

His voice cut through my thoughts, smooth and amused. Carlix seemed genuinely entertained as he kept his kind tone.

“You’re quite good at evasion.”

It was hard to hide that he had hit a nerve. I coughed dryly out of habit, even though Carlix knew my illness was fake.

Yet, he still paid attention to my act. I shrugged, and finally, he sighed and touched my hair.

His hand, caressing my head, slowly moved to play with my hair, proving his feelings were rooted in obsession.

“So, you went through all this trouble to visit. When will you tell me why you’re here?”

“Hah. If it’s just about your sister, that would be sad.”

“Feel free to cry.”

“So cold. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d come after that day.”

“I’ve been busy being locked up.”

“Letters?”

“My wrists hurt more than my lungs these days.”

Meaningless chatter continued. Carlix, still smiling mischievously like a child who loved pranks, kept his eyes on me. Meanwhile, I couldn’t find a window to escape through. My head hurt.

Carlix seemed displeased with my reaction, frowning before pretending to be happy again. He picked up the brown wig, surprising me, and I watched him curiously.

He asked,

“What’s this?”

“A wig.”

“I know that. Why suddenly wear a wig? People would recognize you from your eyes or your seal.”

It’s too much trouble for someone like you. He whispered.

I couldn’t tell if he was high or not. If he was still rational, he would be an exceptional actor. I decided to respond with a cheerful smile, wondering if he could understand.

“It’s my hair color outside.”

He fell silent. The shift in his demeanor was dramatic. A terrible, prolonged silence followed.

“Then… it was true?”

He shook, as if unable to believe what he had heard, then burst into laughter. His laughter showed he didn’t want to believe it. I laughed with him.

The Grand Duke seemed in despair, and from his behavior, I realized Carlix himself roughly understood who the world revolved around.

“Ha…”

Even his sighs of anger were laced with laughter. The original story detailed his personality very accurately. I recalled the line describing how Carlix Hamel suppressed his anger with maniacal laughter.

“Margaret.”

He suddenly reached out.