The moment I opened my eyes that morning, I checked the ceiling first.
An unfamiliar ceiling.
Elaborate molding.
The red rose emblem unique to House Rosette.
And my scheduled date of death.
`[Estimated Survival Time: 45 Days]`
Good.
At least my head had not been taken off overnight.
I let out a sigh and sat up. My shoulders were stiff. My thighs were stiff, and so were my calves. It was not just because I had danced at the ball yesterday.
More precisely, it was because I had danced, shut down a challenge to a duel, argued with a prince, and broken one villainess’s ruin route.
To sum it up.
In a single day yesterday, I had done work that a commoner private tutor’s salary could never possibly cover.
'There was no clause like this in my employment contract.'
Of course, there was no employment contract, either.
This world was a strange place.
When hiring someone, a house crest appeared before paperwork. When firing someone, a blade appeared before paperwork. There were no labor laws, but there was plenty of honor.
So, in order to survive, I memorized the gaps in honor.
As a result, Eveline Rosette had won yesterday without drawing her sword.
That alone was enough of an achievement.
`[First Correction Target: Eveline Rosette]`
`[First Correction Complete]`
`[Duel Incident Route: Cleared]`
`[Resistance to Defeat: Created]`
`[Basics of Self-Control: Acquired]`
`[Trust in Leon Cart: Established]`
`[Goal Beyond the Ruin Route: Created]`
`[Goal: Pass the Academy Entrance Examination]`
I stared blankly at the system window, then rubbed my eyes.
The academy entrance examination.
Right.
Eventually, we had to head there.
The main story of this game began at the academy.
The Academy of the Golden Crown.
The main capture targets, imperial politics, the selection of the Saint Candidate, Magic Tower practicums, the Northern Rebellion, the Southern Merchant War, and most of the villainesses’ ruin events all became tangled up there.
Originally, I was an NPC who died before any of that.
Hired by the first villainess.
Marked on the first day.
Beaten on the third.
A private tutor found as a corpse after one week.
It even had a fancy nickname.
The One-Week Teacher.
It sounded like an instructor for a short special course, but in reality, it was a funeral schedule.
And now I was worrying about the academy entrance examination.
Life was truly unpredictable.
Though, to be precise, this was not life, but a game I had cleared seven times.
I sat on the edge of the bed and rotated my wrist.
Eveline’s handkerchief had not wrinkled yesterday.
The sight was still vivid in my mind.
Eveline Rosette.
The Red Rake of a Young Lady.
With a sword in hand, she was faster than anyone. When angered, she was the first to break. In the original story, unable to endure her fiancé’s insult, she drew her blade. The moment its tip missed, everyone seized her leash as though they had been waiting for it.
That route had been cut off yesterday.
But the system was not kind.
When one was cut off, the next one opened.
`[Next Private Tutoring Candidate: Seria Blanc]`
`[Danger Type: Information Warfare / Poisoning Frame-Up / Collapse of Trust]`
`[Recommended Preparations: Record Evidence, Verify Food/Tea, Secure Conversation Logs]`
`[Time Until Next Event: 3 Days]`
`[Blanc Ducal House Tea Party]`
`[Warning: Check the scent before drinking tea.]`
I paused for a moment at that last sentence.
Check the scent before drinking tea.
Good advice.
At the same time, it was the worst possible advice.
Because warnings like that were usually only half right.
The system’s warnings in games were always like that.
If it said, 'Watch the left,' something would come from the left once, while the real thing came from the right.
If it said, 'Block the sword,' the sword was a feint, and the magic circle beneath your feet was the real threat.
If it said, 'Check the scent?'
You had to check the scent.
And if you trusted only the scent, you died.
Knock, knock.
There was a knock at the door.
"Teacher Leon. Are you awake?"
It was the butler’s voice.
"Yes."
"I have brought your morning tea."
I answered instinctively.
"Please take it away."
It went quiet outside the door.
A brief silence.
Then an exceedingly polite voice followed.
"Did you perhaps drink too much at last night’s ball?"
"No."
"Then does the tea not suit your taste?"
"The tea has done nothing wrong."
"Then may I ask why you told me to remove it?"
I opened the door.
The butler was holding a silver tray. On it sat a white teacup, a small teapot, and thinly sliced lemon.
The scent was pleasant.
Too pleasant.
I looked at the teacup and said,
"I am not drinking it because I want to live."
The butler’s eyebrow moved ever so slightly.
It seemed he had figured me out to some extent by now. If this were our first meeting, he might have taken it as rude. Now, however, he interpreted it differently.
"Is this because of the invitation from the Ducal House of Blanc?"
Quick as expected.
The butler of House Rosette was not merely a man who poured tea. Those who had lived among noble houses for a long time read the direction of rumors more accurately than the origin of tea leaves.
"Yes."
"The Count has also asked to see you regarding that matter."
"Now?"
"He said to come to his study when you are ready."
The butler lifted the tray slightly.
"I truly will take the tea away."
"Thank you."
"I will bring water instead."
"Please make it scentless water."
This time, the butler swallowed a breath.
He seemed to be holding back a laugh.
"Understood."
The door closed, and I sighed.
A life where I was refusing tea from the very beginning.
I was the worst possible protagonist for a noble story.
But I was better than a dead protagonist of a noble story.
Count Rosette’s study was heavily subdued even in the morning.
It felt as though the noise of last night’s ballroom still clung to his clothes. The Count stood by the window, looking outside. His red hair, like Eveline’s, gleamed a little darkly in the morning light.
"Sit."
I sat down.
The Count went straight to the point.
"Since yesterday, three stories have been circulating through the capital’s social circles."
"Are they good stories?"
"How could they be?"
As expected, noble society did not betray expectations.
The Count raised one finger.
"First. Eveline Rosette did not draw her sword at the ball."
A second finger.
"Second. A commoner tutor shut down a duel challenge from a Berhardt branch family member with words alone."
A third finger.
"Third. Liana Bell, the Saint Candidate, thanked the Red Rake of a Young Lady."
I thought about it briefly.
"For bad stories, those sound fairly good."
"In noble society, a good story usually becomes a bad one the next day."
An accurate analysis.
The Count slid an envelope across the desk.
A white envelope.
Blue wax.
A crest of a lily overlaid with a serpent.
It was the crest of the Ducal House of Blanc.
"Seria Blanc has invited Eveline to a tea party. It is an official invitation. We can decline it. But if we do, last night’s victory will be interpreted as fear."
"There will be trouble if we go, too."
"I know."
The Count’s gaze met mine.
"Do you know Seria Blanc?"
I was half a beat late in choosing my answer.
Should I say I did?
Or should I say I did not?
As Yoon Seungho, I knew Seria Blanc.
Seria in the game was the second villainess.
The Smiling Poison-Tongued Woman.
A woman who could take out a person’s weakness with a single word and lay it on the table.
She never wielded a blade herself.
Instead, smiling, she explained why the person holding the blade had picked it up, who had made sure that blade was seen, and whose interests were served by the blood on it.
And her explanations were far too accurate.
That was why people disliked Seria.
They feared her.
And in the end, they did not believe her.
That was how Seria Blanc’s ruin was completed.
Not because she put poison in anything.
But because everyone thought she might have.
I answered shortly.
"I have heard the rumors."
"Those rumors are mostly right."
The Count sat in his chair.
"The second daughter of the Ducal House of Blanc. In social circles, she is called the Smiling Poison-Tongued Woman. She has many enemies and almost no friends. But she is not foolish. No, she is excessively clever."
"Why would someone like that invite Lady Eveline now?"
"That is what I wished to ask you."
I looked down at the envelope.
Eveline had changed at the ball yesterday.
More precisely, she had shown everyone the moment she changed.
She did not draw her sword.
She did not tear into Liana.
She did not rush straight at Arsene.
Instead, she asked.
She accepted.
She let things slide.
And in the end, she smiled.
Someone like Seria Blanc would never overlook that.
"Because the young lady has changed."
The Count’s eyes narrowed.
"Two kinds of hands reach for someone who has changed. A hand that wants to help, and a hand that wants to push them down."
"Which one is Seria Blanc’s?"
"She could be both."
The Count did not answer.
I continued.
"She will help while testing her, and stab while testing her. What matters to Seria Blanc is not whether Lady Eveline has become kind. It is whether she has changed in a direction that can be trusted."
"A direction that can be trusted?"
"A rake is easy to predict. When angry, they break things. But the young lady did not break anything yesterday. So everyone asks: where will that girl move now?"
The Count watched me for a long while.
His gaze was heavy, but held no hostility.
A swordsman would watch his opponent’s feet.
The head of a house watched a person’s calculations.
The Count was measuring how far my calculations went.
"Is there anything you need?"
It was just the question I had been waiting for.
"There is."
"Speak."
I folded down my fingers as I spoke.
"Twelve teacups, all of the same design. Six silver spoons. Scentless water. Pale ink. Sealing wax. Small scraps of paper. And I need a list of the attendees at yesterday’s ball who are connected to the Ducal House of Blanc and House Berhardt."
The Count’s expression turned strange.
"Are you preparing to attend a tea party, or preparing to visit a crime scene?"
"Most noble tea parties are moments away from becoming crime scenes."
The Count fell silent for a moment.
Then he laughed quietly.
"That is not wrong."
"There is one more thing."
"Speak."
"We need to confirm whether Liana Bell was invited."
The Count’s eyes changed.
"The Saint Candidate?"
"Yes."
"Why is she important?"
I looked at the wax crest on the envelope.
A lily and a serpent.
A beautiful, cold crest.
The moment I saw it, a scene from the original story came to mind.
A white tablecloth.
A shattered teacup.
Liana Bell collapsed on the ground.
People screaming.
And Seria Blanc, not smiling.
`[Event Record: Ducal House of Blanc Attempted Poisoning Incident]`
In the original story, this incident was not the beginning of Seria’s route, but its end.
The middle of the academy arc.
After Seria had already struck at many people’s weaknesses and shaken several factions.
Liana Bell collapsed at a tea party hosted by the Ducal House of Blanc.
The poison was not lethal.
More precisely, it did not need to be lethal.
The fact that the Saint Candidate had collapsed.
The fact that Seria had prepared the tea.
And everyone’s conviction that Seria might have done such a thing.
Those three things were enough.
Seria Blanc became a poisoner that day.
Who the real culprit was differed depending on the route.
That was the kind of game it was.
The culprit could change.
But the person doomed to ruin was fixed.
I hated that.
More precisely, I hated it now.
"Liana Bell is someone easily used as a pretext."
The Count mulled over my words.
"It was the same yesterday."
"Yes. If someone intends to use her, they will put her at the center again this time."
"Do you anticipate poison?"
"I anticipate something worse than poison."
"What is that?"
I answered.
"Testimony."
The Count tapped the desk once with his finger.
A quiet sound.
But it was enough.
"I will have it prepared."
"Thank you."
"Leon Cart."
"Yes."
"Eveline intends to go."
I had expected that.
"That is like her."
"I do not want to send her."
"That is like you as well, Count."
The Count looked at me with tired eyes.
"In your view, is it right to send her?"
I did not answer immediately.
Eveline had only just overcome her first ruin route.
Her wounds had not disappeared.
She had only learned once how not to draw her sword.
Throwing a girl like that straight into Seria Blanc’s tea party was dangerous.
But avoiding it would not make her safe, either.
The villainesses did not meet ruin because they ran away.
Most met ruin because they could not run away.
They were ruined standing on a stage someone else had made, without knowing there was a path of escape.
Then this time, we had to do things differently.
Go onto the stage.
But see the stage machinery.
"You should send her."
The Count’s jaw hardened.
I added,
"But you cannot send her without knowing anything."
Eveline had arrived at the training grounds first.
She was not holding a sword as usual.
Instead, she held the handkerchief she had used at the ball yesterday.
The handkerchief that had not wrinkled.
More precisely, the handkerchief that had nearly wrinkled but ultimately had not.
As soon as I entered, she said,
"Today’s lesson is about the tea party, right?"
"I have not said anything yet."
"Father called you to his study first thing this morning. And you look unhappy."
"I always look unhappy."
"You look worse than yesterday."
Her powers of observation had improved.
It was a good thing, but exhausting.
I placed the teacups on the table. The Count’s orders had been swift. Not even an hour after I left the study, every item I required had been delivered to the training grounds.
Twelve teacups.
Six silver spoons.
A clear water bottle.
Small scraps of paper.
Ink.
Sealing wax.
Eveline narrowed her eyes at them.
"Is this a swordsmanship lesson?"
"Yes."
"There is no sword."
"There was not one yesterday, either."
Eveline closed her mouth for a moment.
She looked like she wanted to argue but could not.
I held up a teacup.
"There are three things you will learn today."
"Three things again?"
"Because you get angry if you have to memorize more than three things."
"When did I ever do that?"
"Consistently, from the first day until now."
Eveline nearly crumpled her handkerchief.
Then she stopped.
Good.
Her hand did not move first.
After confirming that, I said,
"First. Tea is not something you drink. It is something you document."
"Why would I document tea?"
"Who poured it, which cup it was poured into, who touched it first, how many spoonfuls of sugar were added, which direction the cup handle was facing. You must document everything."
Eveline’s expression grew progressively sourer.
"That is a tea party?"
"A noble tea party."
"Disgusting."
"Correct."
I picked up the second teacup.
"Second. Do not answer praise immediately."
"Why?"
"Praise is more dangerous than questions."
"What does that even mean?"
"If Seria Blanc says to you, 'You were truly wonderful yesterday,' would that make you feel good?"
Eveline snorted.
"If she said it, I think it would make me feel bad."
"Well done. That is the correct answer."
"That is the correct answer?"
"Yes. Seria Blanc’s praise is unlikely to be praise. It is either a question shaped like praise, or a blade shaped like a question."
Eveline understood.
Once translated into the language of swords, she was quick.
"So I should let it slide instead of striking back."
"Exactly."
I lifted the third teacup.
"Third. Do not leave Liana Bell alone."
Eveline’s eyebrow twitched.
A very brief reaction.
In the past, she would have ignited immediately here.
Why was that girl’s name coming up?
Why did she have to care about that girl?
But before asking, Eveline took a breath.
Then she said,
"Was she invited too?"
I nodded.
"We are confirming it. But it is highly likely."
"Why?"
"Because she is the easiest person to use to shake you. And she is also the best person to turn Seria Blanc into a poisoner."
"A poisoner?"
The air in the training grounds changed.
Eveline’s fingers clenched the handkerchief.
This time, it wrinkled a little.
I looked at the handkerchief.
Eveline looked at her own hand as well.
She gritted her teeth and relaxed her grip.
"Explain."
"Good. Since you did not move first, I will explain."
"Do not tease me."
"It is a lesson."
I placed four teacups on the table.
One in front of Eveline.
One in front of me.
One left empty.
The last in the center.
"At the tea party, someone collapses. Everyone thinks it is poison. Will people look for the poison then?"
"Of course they will."
"At first. But soon, they will look for a person. Who put it in. Who benefits. Who is the sort of person who might do it."
Eveline’s face stiffened.
She knew it too.
The sort of person who might do it.
How easily social circles killed people with those words.
Yesterday, she had stood before those words too.
The Red Rake of a Young Lady would have drawn her sword.
The Red Rake of a Young Lady would have insulted Liana.
The Red Rake of a Young Lady would have accepted the duel.
Until she broke each of those sentences herself, people had already regarded her as guilty.
It was the same for Seria Blanc.
The Smiling Poison-Tongued Woman might have put poison in it.
That single sentence would kill Seria.
"Even if Seria did not put it in?"
"If she cannot prove she did not, then it is the same as if she did."
"That is bullshit."
"This is noble society."
"Then it really is bullshit."
"That is true."
I picked up a silver spoon.
"That is why we are not looking for poison. We need to break the sequence that creates a poisoner."
Eveline became quiet.
The old Eveline would have looked for a sword here.
But now she was looking at the teacups.
The handles.
The spoons.
The water bottle.
The scraps of paper.
Not as things to break, but as things to read.
Good.
The battlefield was changing.
"We will begin."
I poured water into four cups.
"Which cup did I pour water into first?"
"The one in front of me."
"The second?"
"The one in front of you."
"The third?"
"The center one."
"Wrong."
Eveline’s eyes widened.
"What?"
I pointed to the empty cup.
"The third was this one. I only pretended to pour water into the cup in the center."
"How am I supposed to know that?"
"You must watch."
"I did watch."
"You watched the cups. You did not watch my wrist."
Eveline closed her mouth.
I picked up the water bottle.
"It is the same when watching a sword. If you only watch the blade tip, you are too late. You need to watch the shoulder, elbow, wrist, and toes. A tea party is the same. If you only watch the teacup, you are too late. You need to watch the wrist."
Only then did Eveline’s eyes change.
Once translated into swordsmanship, she understood quickly.
I picked up the water bottle again.
"One more time."
This time, I did not move slowly.
I deliberately wove conversation into it.
"Seria Blanc smiles and says, 'Lady Rosette, you were truly beautiful yesterday.'"
I pretended to pour water.
"Liana Bell lowers her head. 'Thank you for inviting me.'"
I actually poured it.
"Arsene Berhardt’s name comes up."
I shifted my wrist.
"At that moment, someone picks up the sugar."
I moved the silver spoon.
"Now. Which cup changed?"
Eveline’s gaze moved rapidly.
It was not anger, but concentration.
"Second from the right. No, the center one."
"Choose one."
"The center."
"Why?"
"Your wrist bent toward the center. But the sound of water came from the right. You made that sound on purpose, did you not?"
I smiled.
"Correct."
The corner of Eveline’s lips lifted slightly.
That expression was different from the one I had seen at the ball yesterday.
It was not a smile that crushed others beneath her.
It was the smile of someone who had figured something out.
A system window appeared.
`[Eveline Rosette: Adapting to Observation Training]`
`[Impulsive Reactions Reduced]`
`[Evidence Recognition Support Available]`
Good.
Eveline could be used on Seria’s side too.
No, she had to be.
I could not watch everything alone.
Seria stabbed with words.
Liana became a pretext.
Eveline was easily used as bait to draw out a reaction.
Then we had to use that in reverse.
If Eveline did not react, we would see who was forcing a reaction from her.
That was when the door opened, and Marie came in.
"Teacher, a letter has arrived."
"From whom?"
Marie held out an envelope.
The envelope was plain.
It did not even bear a noble house’s crest.
But the handwriting was neat.
Liana Bell.
I looked at Eveline.
Eveline was already looking at the envelope.
"Read it."
"Is that all right?"
"Her name came up. It must be related."
Good.
In the past, her first response would have been, 'Why is that girl writing to me?'
I opened the envelope.
It was a short letter.
`To Teacher Leon Cart.`
`I apologize if this sudden letter is presumptuous.`
`I received help at the ball yesterday. More precisely, I came to understand a little about what I was being used for.`
`This morning, I received an invitation to a tea party at the Ducal House of Blanc. I do not know whether a commoner scholarship student like me should attend such a gathering.`
`But I worry that if I do not go, it will look as though I ran away yesterday.`
`If Lady Rosette will also attend, what should I do?`
`Liana Bell.`
The letter ended there.
I folded it.
Eveline said nothing.
A very brief silence settled over the training grounds.
At the end of it, Eveline spoke.
"Is she an idiot?"
"What do you mean?"
"If she is scared, she can just not go."
"Will you not go if you are scared too?"
"I am not scared."
"That is a lie."
Eveline glared at me.
I did not back down.
"Courage is not being unafraid. Courage is knowing what to watch even when you know you are afraid."
"There you go talking like a teacher again."
"I am a teacher."
Eveline snatched up the letter as if taking it from me.
Then she read it again.
Once.
Twice.
By the third reading, her expression changed a little.
"She really does not know."
"Know what?"
"What a good excuse she is."
I did not answer.
Eveline put down the letter.
"Write a reply."
"What should it say?"
"Tell her to come."
"It would be better if you wrote it yourself."
"Me?"
"Yes."
Eveline’s face stiffened.
"If I write it, she might be even more frightened."
"That is why it is a lesson."
I slid a sheet of paper toward her.
"I will add a fourth lesson today."
"You said three."
"The situation has changed."
"Fraud."
"I hear that often."
I opened the ink bottle.
"Keep it short. Do not give orders, do not say you will protect her, and do not say you are repaying a debt."
"Then what am I supposed to write?"
"Give her a choice."
Eveline picked up the pen.
She stared at it for a long time.
She glared at the paper.
She glared at me.
Then she glared at the paper again.
And slowly wrote.
`Liana Bell.`
She stopped there.
"Why do you look as though you want to fight after writing only her name?"
"Be quiet."
The pen moved again.
`I am going too.`
I was about to speak, but held back.
Eveline spoke first.
"I know. It looks like an order, does it not?"
"Yes."
"I will fix it."
The pen moved again.
`I am going too. If you come, I will not leave you sitting alone.`
This time, I paused for a moment.
It was not bad.
No, it was quite good.
Not saying she would protect her, but that she would not leave her alone.
Not benevolence looking down from above, but a declaration that they would sit at the same table.
Eveline added one final sentence.
`If you do not come, I will think of that as your choice as well.`
The pen stopped.
Without looking at me, she asked,
"How is it?"
I answered.
"It is good."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Nothing to fix?"
"There is one thing."
Eveline’s eyes sharpened.
"What?"
"Write your name at the end."
"Oh."
The tips of Eveline’s ears reddened just slightly as she wrote her name.
`Eveline Rosette.`
A system window appeared again.
`[The relationship between Eveline Rosette and Liana Bell is changing.]`
`[Scheduled Hostility: Deferred]`
`[Possibility of Cautious Solidarity: Created]`
I let out a quiet breath as I read it.
It was a small change.
But small changes like these ruined ruin routes.
Games killed people with major events.
Reality saved people with small sentences.
Of course, this was inside a game.
But to those of us living in it, it was no different from reality.
The lesson continued until the afternoon.
Eveline adapted faster than I expected.
She was terrible at drinking tea, but she had a talent for suspecting tea.
I did not know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"The maid on the right lied."
"Why?"
"Before pouring the tea, she moved like she was left-handed. But when she picked up the sugar, she used her right hand. She switched on purpose."
"That is possible."
"Possible? Is that not the answer?"
"At the scene, you must only say it is possible. The moment you call it the answer, you become the culprit if you are wrong."
Eveline made a displeased face.
"It is frustrating."
"Information warfare is frustrating by nature."
"In sword terms?"
"Your opponent has not drawn their sword, but everyone is looking only at the tip of yours."
"That is the worst."
"Yes. That is why you lose if you draw your sword."
"Then I lose."
Eveline repeated my words.
I looked at her.
Eveline avoided my gaze.
"Why are you looking at me?"
"Because you memorized it well."
"Do you want to die?"
"I praised you because I want to live."
"Do not say you hear that often."
"I hear that often."
The handkerchief nearly wrinkled.
But this time too, she stopped.
Good.
Teasing her was rewarding.
Then the door opened again.
This time, it was the butler.
He entered with a face slightly sterner than usual.
"Teacher. Something has arrived from the Ducal House of Blanc."
Eveline’s expression stiffened.
I immediately turned toward him too.
The butler held a black box.
A small, long box.
Blue wax sealed its lid.
A lily and a serpent.
The Ducal House of Blanc.
I did not take the box.
"Please place it on the table."
The butler did so.
Using a silver spoon, I examined the area around the wax.
Eveline asked,
"Can you tell with that?"
"No."
"Then why are you doing it?"
"It is better than not doing it."
"You are honest."
"I do not want to die showing off."
The wax was intact.
There was no sign that it had been broken or melted down again.
When I opened the box, there was a small glass vial and a card inside.
The vial contained tea leaves.
A scent rose from it.
Sweet.
Soft.
Clean.
Too clean.
I held my breath.
Eveline instinctively stepped back as well.
The butler immediately opened the window.
Wind entered the training grounds.
Without touching the vial, I unfolded the card.
The handwriting was beautiful.
Handwriting befitting Seria Blanc.
Soft, precise, without a single wavering stroke.
`To Teacher Leon Cart.`
`I thought you might be suspicious of tea before the tea party, so I am sending the tea leaves in advance.`
`Many people check the scent, but few look at what the scent conceals.`
`I wonder which kind you are.`
Eveline gritted her teeth.
"It is a provocation."
"Yes."
"Is there poison in the tea leaves?"
I waited for the system window.
Soon, text appeared.
`[Toxic Reaction: Not Detected]`
`[Mana Interference Reaction: Not Detected]`
`[Scent Manipulation Traces: Detected]`
`[Warning: The scent is overly perfected.]`
Overly perfected.
Reading that line, I nearly laughed.
As expected.
This was not poison.
It was a test sheet.
Seria Blanc had not sent tea leaves.
She had sent her own question.
'Anyone can suspect tea. Can you see what comes next?'
Eveline asked,
"Why are you smiling?"
"Because it is irritating."
"Who is?"
"Seria Blanc."
"I know that too."
I turned over the card.
There was writing on the back as well.
One short line.
The moment I saw it, the air in the training grounds turned cold again.
`No one will put poison in anything at this tea party.`
`And yet, someone will become a poisoner.`
Eveline said quietly,
"Is this woman insane?"
I did not answer.
No.
She was not insane.
She knew.
Seria Blanc knew someone was trying to turn her into a poisoner.
But she could not stop it.
Why?
Because she had no evidence.
Because she had no one who would believe her.
And because the words she had spent her entire life building up were now tightening around her own neck.
The Smiling Poison-Tongued Woman.
The person who stabbed people’s weaknesses too accurately.
The person whose injustice no one believed because of that accuracy.
I put down the card.
The system window appeared again.
`[Seria Blanc’s Route Unlocked Early]`
`[Event Name Updated]`
`[Ducal House of Blanc Attempted Poisoning Incident] -> [Making a Poisoner]`
`[Primary Victim Candidate: Liana Bell]`
`[Primary Frame-Up Candidate: Seria Blanc]`
`[Primary Rampage Candidate: Eveline Rosette]`
`[Time Remaining: 2 Days 18 Hours]`
Primary rampage candidate.
I looked at Eveline after reading that line.
Eveline was looking at the card too.
The handkerchief was in her hand.
It was not wrinkled.
But it was trembling slightly.
"Leon."
"Yes."
"If I draw my sword this time too, I lose, right?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Then what should I draw?"
It was a good question.
For the first time, a truly good question.
I picked up one of the scraps of paper on the table.
"Records."
Eveline looked at me.
I continued.
"In this fight, records will stab before swords do."
Seria’s card stirred lightly in the wind blowing in through the window.
The scent of tea leaves was still excessively perfect.
As I smelled it, I thought:
Check the scent before drinking tea.
I had checked it.
And I understood.
The scent was lying.
The real poison at this tea party would not be inside the teacups.
It would be inside people’s mouths.
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