‘Seria Blanc is trying to kill me today.’
The sentence on the white paper was short.
That made it all the more dangerous.
Long writing wavers.
The longer people lie, the more gaps they leave.
But short sentences were different.
A short sentence lodged itself like a knife.
Seria Blanc.
Today.
Me.
Is trying to kill.
Subject, time, target, intent.
All four things needed to frame someone as a poisoner were contained in that single line.
Very helpfully.
Far too helpfully.
That was why I knew the instant I saw it.
This was not a dying declaration.
It was a prop.
The problem was that I was the only one who knew it.
The garden had frozen over.
Eloise Berhardt lay there, half-unconscious.
On her left hand was a pearl ring containing powder from the White Needle Herb family.
In her right hand was a sheet of paper accusing Seria Blanc.
A shattered teacup lay on the table.
Tea stains marked the white tablecloth.
And all around us were the faces of young noblewomen on the verge of screaming.
The picture was perfect.
So perfect it was revolting.
[Prewritten testimony discovered]
[Caution: Time of writing must be verified]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 21%]
I picked up my pen.
The screams were about to erupt again.
Derin stepped forward.
Seria did not smile.
Eveline clutched her handkerchief.
Liana stared at the paper with a face gone white.
Beatrice Morgan, her fan folded, held the entire garden under control.
At that moment, I spoke.
"No one touch the paper."
My voice carried farther than I expected.
Probably because everyone had been holding their breath.
Derin looked at me.
"That item was in the young lady’s hand. House Berhardt should examine it."
"It should be examined."
I nodded.
"That is why no one should touch it now."
Derin’s eyes turned cold.
"Is a commoner teacher going to prevent House Berhardt from handling its own evidence?"
It was a good attack.
Status.
Ownership.
Protection of the victim.
He had mixed them all together.
A commoner teacher preventing a noble house from handling evidence.
Put that way, I sounded suspicious.
But Beatrice was here.
She spoke quietly.
"An item recovered from a victim’s hand is not the property of the victim’s family alone. It is evidence in an incident. Procedurally, it should now be examined before the attending physician and witnesses."
As expected of Beatrice Morgan.
She had the sort of voice that sounded as if she could stand a person up and kill them with words.
But today, she was saving someone.
Derin closed his mouth.
He had not retreated entirely.
His eyes were on the paper.
The paper.
No, more precisely, the folded edge of the paper.
I wrote that down too.
Derin: Demands recovery of the accusation.
Derin’s gaze: Folded section of the paper.
Why was he looking at the fold?
Not the contents.
I would think about that later.
For now, we needed to secure the paper.
The female physician was supporting Eloise’s wrist.
She looked between Beatrice and me.
"May I remove the paper? The patient’s fingers are stiffening. If we leave it as it is, it may tear."
Treatment and evidence had clashed again.
Why did this world always make people so tired?
But there was an answer.
"It must be removed before it tears. However, please verbally document both the process of opening her fingers and the paper’s condition."
The female physician nodded.
"I am separating a folded paper from the inside of Lady Eloise Berhardt’s right hand. Her fingers are mildly stiffened, and the paper is wedged inside her palm."
I wrote it down exactly.
Attending physician: Folded paper separated from inside right hand.
Fingers: Mild stiffness.
Paper location: Inside the palm.
With a fresh gloved hand, the female physician took hold of the edge of the paper.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
The paper came free.
It was small.
About two finger joints long.
Folded once.
It was not completely crumpled.
That was strange.
Eloise had just collapsed from a toxic reaction.
Her fingertips had gone numb, her breathing was unstable, and her consciousness had clouded.
A paper she had gripped in that state should have been more crumpled.
It should have borne palm sweat or tea stains.
But the paper was far too intact.
Far too neat.
I wrote.
Accusation condition: Folded once. Minimal creasing. No signs of moisture.
Eloise gave a weak smile.
"Do you really... have to write down... even that much...?"
"Yes."
I answered at once.
"I have to write down even that much."
The corner of her mouth stiffened ever so slightly.
Good.
Records made people uncomfortable.
Especially people who had reason to fear being recorded.
The female physician set the paper beside a white plate.
It was a separate plate from the one holding the White Needle Herb powder that had fallen from the ring.
Beatrice confirmed it aloud.
"Put the paper on a separate plate, so it does not mix with the powder from the ring."
"Yes."
A maid brought another plate.
The paper was set atop it.
White paper on a white plate.
And black writing upon it.
‘Seria Blanc is trying to kill me today.’
Seria was looking at that sentence.
She still was not smiling.
This time, I did not deliberately tell her to smile.
Smiling now would be strange.
Not smiling would also be strange.
When any action would seem strange, it was better not to move at all.
Seria did not move.
Instead, she spoke.
"Verify it."
It was brief.
But it was good.
A defensive statement.
A declaration that she was not afraid.
I looked at the paper.
"We need to establish when it was written first."
Eloise whispered.
"I... was afraid... so I wrote it beforehand..."
"That is possible."
I did not cut her off.
"It could be something you wrote beforehand out of fear."
Eloise’s eyes relaxed slightly.
It seemed she thought I had conceded the point.
But I continued.
"Then a question arises."
Her eyes stiffened again.
"Why did you not inform the hostess or the witnesses present of that fear?"
The garden fell silent.
Good questions reduce the noise.
Bad questions increase it.
This was the former.
Eloise did not answer.
I asked again.
"If you believed Seria Blanc intended to kill you today, why did you attend this tea party?"
Eloise’s lips moved.
"To... obtain evidence..."
"Good."
I wrote.
Eloise’s claim: Wrote it beforehand out of fear. Attended to secure evidence.
Then I asked.
"Then why did you drink tea before requesting that the ring be examined?"
This time, Eloise could not answer immediately.
Her breathing grew a little rougher.
The female physician looked at me.
"Keep your questions brief. We need to monitor the patient’s condition."
"Understood."
Treatment came first.
But questions were necessary too.
I spoke briefly.
"If she came to obtain evidence, the reason she drank tea before examining the evidence must be recorded."
Beatrice nodded.
"Appropriate."
Eveline muttered under her breath.
"Annoyingly appropriate."
I pretended not to hear.
It was the sort of thing I heard often.
A system window appeared.
[Verification of accusation credibility begins]
[Contradiction 1: Claim of prior fear conflicts with risky act of drinking]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 21% → 18%]
Good.
It had dropped.
But we still had a long way to go.
A one-line accusation was tougher than it looked.
People preferred easy sentences to complicated evidence.
‘Seria Blanc is trying to kill me today.’
That sentence was easy.
The ring was difficult.
The White Needle Herb was difficult.
Whose cup it had been was difficult.
So I had to make the easy sentence difficult.
That was my job.
Though I had no idea whether it was supposed to be the job of a commoner private tutor.
I had already come too far.
"May I inspect the paper?"
When I asked, Beatrice answered first.
"Do not touch it directly."
"I was not planning to."
"Even when you are not planning to, Teacher, you often look as though you are."
"I hear that often."
"Which is why I said it."
She was formidable.
I examined the paper on the plate from up close.
The handwriting was neat.
Too neat.
Not a single stroke wavered significantly.
The beginning and end of each stroke were evenly closed.
In particular, the final character in ‘is trying to kill’ was perfectly straight.
It was far too calm for a sentence written by someone terrified.
Of course, people differed.
Some people might write more neatly the more frightened they became.
So I could not jump to conclusions.
I had to verify it.
I asked the female physician.
"Could someone write this kind of handwriting after a White Needle Herb reaction begins?"
The female physician looked at the paper and shook her head.
"It would be difficult after the reaction begins. Numbness in the fingertips comes first."
"Then this was written before she drank it."
"That is highly likely."
I wrote.
Attending physician’s opinion: Unlikely to have been written after toxic reaction. Fingertip numbness precedes it.
This was important.
It was not a dying declaration written after Eloise collapsed.
It was an accusation written in advance.
Then the next question arose.
If it had been written in advance, when had it been written?
Before arriving at the tea party?
After arriving?
Before the first cup?
Before the second?
And why had she concealed it in her right hand?
I looked at the paper’s fold.
It had been folded once.
The crease was exceptionally distinct.
The crease on paper left folded for a long time becomes softly pressed.
A freshly folded paper has a sharp crease.
This paper?
Its crease was sharp.
"The crease is fresh."
The moment I said that, Derin cut in.
"How can you know something like that merely by looking at a paper fold?"
"I do not."
Derin stopped.
I continued.
"That is why I am not drawing a conclusion. I am recording that the crease appears sharp."
Eveline laughed very softly.
Derin’s face became more uncomfortable.
I recorded it.
Accusation fold: Distinct and sharp. Few signs of long-term storage.
Beatrice spoke.
"If the paper had been held in her hand for a long time, it would retain more traces of palm moisture or body heat. The paper is excessively clean."
Good.
Beatrice had reinforced it.
I added:
Beatrice’s opinion: Few traces of long-term storage in the hand.
Eloise’s lips stiffened.
A system window appeared.
[Contradiction 2: Claim of long-term concealment conflicts with paper condition]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 18% → 15%]
15%.
It was falling.
But it was not enough yet.
The accusation still remained as a sentence.
To erase that sentence, I had to examine its origin.
The ink.
The paper.
The handwriting.
And who had folded it.
"We need to inspect the ink."
As soon as I spoke, Seria addressed the head maid.
"Bring the list of inks in the preparation room. Every ink used for the guest record cards today as well."
Good.
She had gotten faster.
Seria Blanc was now learning how to defend herself.
Not with words that stabbed others, but with procedures that protected herself.
As the head maid was about to move, Derin spoke.
"You intend to inspect even the ink while Lady Berhardt has collapsed?"
This time, Liana answered.
"I think we must inspect it precisely because she has collapsed."
Derin’s gaze fixed on Liana.
Liana trembled, but she did not retreat.
"And the attending physician said it was not fatal. Treatment is continuing. If we stop verifying things, even why Lady Eloise collapsed will become unclear."
Well done.
Truly well done.
Liana was no longer a potential victim.
A witness.
And someone who asked questions.
A system window appeared.
[Liana Bell: Position as incident witness established]
[Potential victim fixation route weakened]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 15% → 13%]
Eveline looked at Liana.
Only briefly.
Then she said:
"Right. If we stop, only their side of the story remains."
Liana looked at Eveline.
An odd silence passed between them.
It was not a bad silence.
The kind of silence that had never existed in the original story.
Seria watched it.
Then she said quietly:
"How interesting."
Eveline responded at once.
"What is?"
"The fact that Lady Rosette is standing up for someone else’s words."
"Be quiet."
"It was a compliment."
"That sounds suspicious."
"It is normal."
I did not record that exchange.
I could have, but there were more important things now.
The ink list arrived quickly.
The Ducal House of Blanc’s preparation room used three kinds of ink.
Black walnut ink.
Blue record ink.
Scented ink for guests.
The accusation was written in black.
At a glance, it resembled black walnut ink.
But after examining it closely, the female physician spoke.
"It has a scent."
"Is it scented ink?"
Seria asked.
The female physician shook her head.
"It is not the scented ink used by the Ducal House of Blanc. This has rose fragrance mixed into it."
Rose.
Rosette?
No.
Too easy.
Far too helpful.
This could be another trap.
Eveline’s face stiffened.
"Rose?"
The corner of Derin’s mouth moved ever so slightly.
I saw it.
Then I spoke at once.
"The scent of roses does not automatically mean House Rosette. Rose-scented ink is common in the capital’s social circles."
Was that true?
Half true.
Rose-scented ink had been fairly common in the item descriptions for noble goods in the game.
What was exclusive to House Rosette was sealing wax stamped with a red rose design, not rose fragrance itself.
I continued.
"Does House Berhardt also use rose-scented ink?"
Derin’s face stiffened.
Good.
That reaction had been quick.
Eloise also closed her eyes just slightly.
The female physician raised her head.
"I have seen rose-scented ink used in House Berhardt’s social letters. It is a common luxury ink."
Beatrice spoke quietly.
"Then rose fragrance is not evidence of a particular house."
I wrote.
Accusation ink: Black ink with rose fragrance.
Rose-scented ink: Not exclusive to a particular house. Used by House Berhardt as well.
A system window appeared.
[False lead candidate: Rose fragrance]
[House Rosette connection route weakened]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 13% → 11%]
Good.
They had not targeted Seria alone.
If necessary, they had been ready to drag Eveline in too.
Blue wax for Seria.
Rose-scented ink for Rosette.
The victim staging for Liana.
A servant’s involvement for Berhardt.
The threads stretched in every direction.
And at the center of all those threads lay Eloise.
No.
More precisely, Eloise and Derin.
I looked at Derin.
He was choosing his words carefully now.
When someone who had been talkative suddenly began holding back, it meant one of two things.
They knew nothing.
Or they knew far too much.
"Derin."
When I called him, his brow shifted.
"There is no reason for a commoner teacher to call me by name."
"I am verifying the record."
"What, exactly?"
"Did you know, before the tea party began, that Lady Eloise was holding a paper in her right hand?"
Derin’s eyes flickered for the briefest instant.
Very briefly.
But I saw it.
Eveline saw it too.
Liana probably saw it as well.
Derin did not answer immediately.
That silence alone was enough.
But silence was difficult to record.
So I asked again.
"If you say you did not know, I will record that."
"I did not know."
A quick answer.
Too quick an answer.
I wrote.
Derin: Denies prior knowledge of the accusation.
Then I asked:
"Then why did you look at the fold in the paper earlier?"
The garden became quiet.
For the first time, Derin’s face stiffened.
"What are you talking about?"
"When the paper came from Lady Eloise’s right hand, you looked at the folded edge before you looked at the sentence. The fold, not the contents."
Derin smiled.
"You saw that?"
"Yes."
"You are mistaken."
"That is possible."
I nodded.
"That is why I will record the possibility that I am mistaken as well."
This time, Eveline laughed softly.
Liana pressed her lips together.
Seria narrowed her eyes.
Beatrice folded her fan.
Snap.
The sound cut off Derin’s smile.
"Derin."
Beatrice spoke.
"Since you say it was a mistake, we need only verify it. Who was the last person to arrange Lady Eloise’s gloves and belongings before the tea party began?"
Derin’s mouth closed.
And everyone knew the answer to that question.
Her servant.
Her attendant.
Derin.
Derin did not answer.
Eloise spoke weakly.
"Derin... only followed my instructions..."
I did not interrupt at once.
I let her speak.
"He only... arranged my gloves..."
Good.
She had said it.
I wrote.
Eloise: Admits Derin arranged her gloves.
Derin’s face stiffened further.
Eloise appeared to realize what she had just said.
But it was too late.
The gloves.
The right hand.
The paper.
The left hand.
The ring.
Derin could have touched both hands.
And he had said he knew nothing about the accusation.
A system window appeared.
[New point of connection secured]
[Derin: Responsible for arranging Eloise’s gloves]
[Possible accusation concealment location: Inside right glove]
[Possible ring manipulation location: Over left glove]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 11% → 9%]
9%.
Back to single digits.
But it was not a decisive blow yet.
That Derin had arranged the gloves was only a possibility.
Not proof of the crime.
If I condemned someone on possibility alone, I would become no different from them.
So there was something else we needed.
"We need to unfold the accusation."
Seria asked:
"But we already saw the sentence."
"We need to inspect the inside of the fold."
"The inside?"
"A folded sheet has an outside and an inside. There is also the side that touched her palm and the side that did not. If we see which side is more pressed, we can determine where it was kept."
After finishing, I regretted it for a moment.
I had sounded too much like an expert.
But there was no helping it.
I was a seven-playthrough clear veteran.
And this game had an absurd number of pointless minigames.
The evidence puzzle on the poisoner route had been one of them.
I had cursed while doing it back then, but now it was saving my life.
You never knew what life would bring.
Beatrice looked at the female physician.
"Please unfold it. Do not press it with your fingers—use silver needles."
Using two silver needles, the female physician carefully unfolded the paper.
The inside was exposed.
There was no writing on it.
But one corner of the paper held a tiny black dot.
An ink blot.
No.
A puncture mark.
I narrowed my eyes.
I could see Derin’s face stiffen.
"What is that?"
Liana asked quietly.
I answered.
"It looks like a sealing pin mark, not a pen tip."
Seria’s eyes changed.
"A sealing pin?"
"A thin pin used to secure small papers to the inside of gloves. Servants in noble houses use them to fasten sachets or small notes inside clothing."
Beatrice nodded.
"Correct. But they are not used for items meant to be revealed before guests. They are for fastening things inside."
I looked at Derin.
"Derin, did you fasten anything to the inside of Lady Eloise’s gloves today?"
Derin was silent.
This time, it lasted long.
Too long.
Eloise closed her eyes.
Seria held her breath.
Eveline clenched her handkerchief.
Liana placed her own hands flat against her lap.
Derin slowly opened his mouth.
"A sachet."
"A sachet?"
"A small sachet the young lady uses when she is tense. I fastened it to the inside of her right glove. I know nothing about a note."
Good.
For the first time, something new had emerged.
A sachet.
Inside the right glove.
That was where the accusation had been.
I wrote.
Derin: Admits fastening a sachet inside the right glove.
Accusation location: Inside the right palm.
Question: Relationship between the sachet and accusation location.
A system window appeared.
[The accusation’s concealment route is narrowing.]
[Credibility of Derin’s denial of prior knowledge decreases]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 9% → 7%]
7%.
Good.
But Derin could still escape.
He had only fastened the sachet.
He knew nothing about the note.
That was possible.
The possibility remained.
And Eloise was still a collapsed victim.
Victims concealed many things.
Then Seria quietly spoke.
"Where is the sachet?"
Derin’s face stiffened.
"What do you mean?"
"If you fastened a sachet inside the right glove, should it not still be there?"
The garden fell silent.
The female physician examined Eloise’s right hand.
Inside the glove.
Beneath the palm.
The end of the sleeve.
There was nothing.
The sachet was gone.
Only the accusation remained.
I recorded it.
Inside right glove: No sachet. Only accusation discovered.
Derin was at a loss for words.
Eloise closed her eyes too.
This time, Seria Blanc smiled just slightly.
The smile of the smiling poison-tongued woman.
But this time, it was closer to defense than attack.
"How strange."
She said:
"The sachet disappeared, and only the accusation remains."
Derin did not answer.
Seria was about to say more.
I raised a hand.
"It is not a conclusion yet."
Seria looked at me.
"Again?"
"Yes."
"You truly have a talent for stopping people at the most unpleasant moments, Teacher."
"I hear that often."
Seria smiled very briefly this time.
Truly only for a moment.
That smile made her seem a little more alive.
I said:
"The sachet’s absence is important. But we do not yet know who removed it. Derin may have removed it, Lady Eloise may have done so herself, or perhaps there was never a sachet to begin with."
Eveline spoke softly.
"Frustrating."
"It is an information war."
"It is always frustrating. I know."
She remembered it now.
That was a good thing.
I looked at Derin.
"So the next question is simple. Did anyone see the sachet?"
No one could answer immediately.
Then Liana raised her hand.
Quietly.
But clearly enough for everyone to see.
"I... smelled it."
Everyone looked at Liana.
In a trembling voice, she said:
"When Lady Eloise came close to me at the entrance, I smelled roses. It was a scent different from the tea. I thought it was perfume."
Rose fragrance.
Roses again.
But this time was different.
The rose scent in the ink.
The rose scent of the sachet.
If the accusation and sachet had been in the same place?
The paper would absorb the rose fragrance.
I asked the female physician.
"Is the rose scent from the accusation in the ink itself, or has it permeated the paper?"
The female physician smelled the paper again.
She did not put her nose directly to it.
She fanned the air toward herself with her hand.
Good.
Experts in this world were all excellent at using hand-fanning.
She said:
"The ink is scented, but the entire paper has absorbed a fragrance as well. It is not an old, embedded scent. It may have transferred from a sachet kept nearby."
A system window appeared.
[Accusation fragrance analysis updated]
[Rose fragrance: Not from ink alone. May have adhered to paper surface]
[Connected to testimony regarding sachet inside right glove]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 7% → 5%]
5%.
It was nearly over.
But the Poisoner-Making Event was not over until it was over.
And truly, there was one final move.
Eloise smiled with difficulty.
"Then... are you saying... it was not... Lady Seria...?"
Her voice was weak, but her sentence was sharp.
"But inside the ring... there was blue sealing wax... from the Ducal House of Blanc..."
Blue wax.
The most helpful piece of evidence still remaining.
The blue fragment pointing to Seria.
I looked at it.
A fragment of blue sealing wax stuck inside the ring’s groove.
The same color as the Ducal House of Blanc’s crest.
Evidence that stood out far too clearly.
Evidence that was far too helpful.
I had to break it.
Then Seria quietly spoke.
"Teacher."
"Yes."
"Blue sealing wax is not used solely by my house."
The garden became quiet again.
Seria spoke very slowly.
"The Ducal House of Blanc stamps blue wax with a lily and serpent crest. But wax of the same color can be bought by anyone from merchants in the capital. What matters is not the color, but traces of the crest."
Good.
Finally.
Seria was drawing on knowledge not to stab another person, but to protect herself.
I asked the female physician.
"Are there traces of a crest on the wax fragment?"
The female physician carefully shook the fragment from the ring’s groove onto a plate.
A very small fragment.
Blue.
But it bore no crest.
A smooth shard.
Merely blue wax.
The female physician said:
"No traces of a crest are visible."
Seria lowered her gaze.
"If it were the Ducal House of Blanc’s sealing wax, traces of the crest would remain. At least the tip of a lily petal or part of a serpent scale."
Beatrice confirmed it.
"Color alone cannot establish that this is the Ducal House of Blanc’s sealing wax."
I wrote.
Blue sealing wax: No traces of crest.
Color alone insufficient to establish Ducal House of Blanc sealing wax.
A system window appeared.
[Decisive nature of blue sealing wax evidence collapses]
[Framed suspect fixation condition weakened]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 5% → 3%]
3%.
It was almost over.
But it was not zero.
The event had not been cleared.
Why?
I glared at the system window.
There was still a remaining condition.
Condition 2.
Victim perception.
Eloise was still a victim.
Even if actions nearly akin to self-harm came to light, people would see her as a victim.
Because she was lying collapsed.
Because she was breathing heavily.
Because she was pale.
And she could still speak.
If she pointed to Seria one last time, that remaining 3% could rise again.
I looked at Eloise.
She was looking at me too.
A pale face.
Weak breaths.
But the light in her eyes had not died.
She was truly a vicious person.
Not in a good sense.
Eloise whispered.
"Even so... I... collapsed..."
There it was.
Victim perception.
Even as the evidence wavered, her collapsed body remained.
She knew that.
"Someone... must be held... responsible..."
Then Liana spoke.
"I think responsibility should be assigned only after the facts have been verified."
The garden stopped.
Liana’s voice was quiet.
But this time, it barely shook at all.
"I, too, was repeatedly told today that I might become a victim. But I thought it would be strange if the possibility of me becoming a victim made someone else the culprit."
She looked at Eloise.
"It is true that you collapsed. But that fact does not mean Lady Seria is the culprit."
Eveline looked at Liana.
Seria looked at Liana too.
Beatrice did not fold her fan.
Because it was already folded.
I lifted my pen.
Liana: Statement separating fact of victimhood from establishment of culprit.
A system window appeared.
[Victim perception condition weakens.]
[Condition 2: Victim perception—fails to function as a sole condition]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 3% → 1%]
1%.
Damn it.
One percent remained.
Why?
I nearly got angry.
But the reason soon revealed itself.
Derin spoke.
"Then should House Berhardt simply withdraw in silence? While the young lady has collapsed?"
He raised his head.
His eyes had changed.
Not defense, but attack.
"All these records are being written by House Rosette’s commoner teacher. Lady Seria is following those records, while Lady Rosette and Lady Liana are speaking to suit them."
Good.
Very much not good.
The final 1%.
It was me.
The commoner teacher.
The record keeper.
A picture in which I was manipulating Seria, Eveline, and Liana.
That was what Derin was aiming for.
"Who would believe these records?"
The garden wavered again.
He was right.
My records were strong.
But records kept by me alone were weak.
A commoner teacher’s records.
Paper the noble houses could tear apart if they wished.
I held my pen.
For the first time, it seemed light.
Then Beatrice Morgan spoke.
"I will believe them."
Derin’s gaze turned to her.
Beatrice did not waver in the slightest.
"I came today as an etiquette observer for Lady Rosette. At the same time, I am someone who has verified the procedures here. Teacher Leon Cart wrote his records before my eyes, and I heard the major statements. I will confirm the necessary parts in my own name."
Heavy.
Those words carried weight.
Beatrice Morgan.
A teacher of social etiquette.
A woman who had taught many noble houses.
Someone who did not easily take anyone’s side.
She had guaranteed my records.
Eveline spoke quietly.
"Teacher."
I looked at Eveline.
She was unfolding her handkerchief.
A handkerchief that had not been crumpled.
"I’ll confirm it too."
It was brief.
But it carried weight as well.
The daughter of Count Rosette.
The girl once called the Red Rake of a Young Lady.
The witness who had not gone berserk today.
Liana spoke.
"I will confirm it too. I will take responsibility for the things I said."
Seria spoke last.
"And as the hostess of this gathering, I will preserve those records, including the parts unfavorable to me."
The garden became quiet.
Holding my pen, I exhaled.
A system window appeared.
[Record credibility reinforced]
[Observer: Beatrice Morgan]
[Witnesses present: Eveline Rosette / Liana Bell / Seria Blanc]
[Core Condition 3: Social certainty regarding culprit candidate—collapses]
[Core Condition 4: Excessive reaction from berserk candidate—failed]
[Poisoner-Making Event success rate: 1% → 0%]
[Event: Poisoner-Making]
[Result: Failure]
I closed my eyes for a moment.
It was over.
No.
The incident was not over.
Eloise was alive.
Derin was still standing.
And House Berhardt still stood behind them.
Seria Blanc had not been completely saved yet.
But the route where she was conclusively branded a poisoner here today had been cut off.
That alone was enough.
For now.
I wrote the final line on the record sheet.
Today, no poisoner was made at this table.
At that moment, Seria Blanc looked at me.
The smiling poison-tongued woman.
A woman who had stabbed at people’s weaknesses like a knife from the moment she first appeared.
She was smiling now.
But this smile was strange.
It was not sharp.
It was not a sneer either.
It was tired.
Annoyed.
And, just a little, the smile of someone brought back to life.
"Teacher."
"Yes."
"You are truly an unpleasant man."
"I hear that often."
"But today..."
Seria stopped speaking.
She did not finish.
Even so, I thought I understood what she meant.
Thank you was too weak a phrase for her.
And too dangerous.
So I did not record it.
I decided to leave at least that much unspoken.
But the system did not leave it unspoken.
[Seria Blanc’s ruin route changes.]
[Poisoning false accusation route: First block established]
[Relationship between Seria Blanc and Leon Cart changes.]
[Interest: Potential cooperation mixed with suspicion]
[Caution]
[Hidden faction: Connection to House Berhardt increases]
[Next potential threats: Derin / Eloise Berhardt / Arsene Berhardt]
Good.
Very much not good.
I had stopped the event, but my enemies had multiplied.
I looked at Derin.
He did not speak anymore.
But his eyes were speaking.
It was not over.
Right.
I knew that too.
This was not the end.
House Berhardt would not crumble from one tea party.
But at least today.
Neither the teacup.
Nor the ring.
Nor the accusation.
Had cut off anyone’s head.
I put down my pen.
And muttered to myself.
‘A swordsmanship lesson is easier than this.’
It really was.
At least swords were more honest than paper.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register