—Everything was proceeding without a hitch.
Beneath a great chandelier suspended from the ceiling and blazing with light, the graceful tones of strings filled the hall as guests, clad in brilliantly colored formalwear, chatted with goblets in hand. Held in the opened great hall of the manor of Viscount Dicken Morrow, the lord who governed the surrounding region, the soirée overflowed with the voices of numerous invitees and had all the marks of a roaring success.
The guest list comprised nobles on close terms with Viscount Morrow, merchants who commanded major trade routes within the domain, and notables whose influence spanned multiple villages—none lacking in station. When the hosting viscount raised his cup and wished for the domain’s peace and prosperity, voices of assent rose, and the ensemble bolstered the sense of unity with a dazzling tune.
Everyone threw their support behind Dicken Morrow’s words, never doubting he was on their side. And small wonder. Including the very invitation to this event, ample returns had been prepared for the guests, letting them fully savor the rewards of contributing to Viscount Morrow’s domain. When there’s much to gain, people naturally overlook minor misgivings. They harbored no malice or sense of guilt. Unwitting collaborators—that was the ideal.
Of late, Viscount Dicken Morrow had drastically changed his style of governance.
Until then, Viscount Morrow had been conservative—put bluntly, timid and afraid of change. But in the past few months, his stance had strayed from mere maintenance of the status quo; he had begun to set multiple major initiatives in motion, drawing in the local power brokers. He had been mocked as a man past fifty whose way of getting by was to savor wine and fine food and safeguard his secure position. The change was so dramatic as to make the jibes seem a lie, and those who profited from it welcomed it heartily.
Tonight’s celebration, too, had been convened ostensibly to invite those who had profited from a recent major deal and lavishly express gratitude for their cooperation.
Having passed middle age and nearing his early elder years, Dicken Morrow’s talent had in the truest sense come into full bloom—that was the prevailing assessment of Viscount Morrow at this gathering.
—No one had any way of knowing that Dicken Morrow had been replaced by another person, his position stripped from him root and branch.
「――――」
Raising a glass of wine to his lips, the man calling himself 『Viscount Morrow』 quietly surveyed the party. He responded to words thrown his way, answered proffered consultations with a smile, and to words of praise he lauded the other still more. In doing so, he took careful measure of how far the 『Poison』 had penetrated.
『Poison』—not in the sense of having physically dosed anyone with a lethal substance. If anything, 『Poison』 was himself—the one posing as Dicken Morrow and deceiving all with the stolen station. It gnawed away at others bit by bit and, before they knew it, would even lay a hand on their lives. This kind of 『Poison』, administered with such a purpose, was said now to be spreading throughout every corner of the Kingdom. He spoke in hearsay because he himself did not know the details of the plan to sow 『Poison』. But he could not be the only one; watching the Kingdom’s state of affairs, he could subtly sense its effects.
The time when 『Poison』 would fully take effect was likely near. For that coming moment, he bore the duty of removing every obstacle. —Which was precisely why, despite his appearance being an exact match, the veteran retainers and servants who had dared to doubt the authenticity within had to be removed, all at once.
They, too, had been sent invitations. But not to the glittering gala unfolding before their eyes: under the pretext of an explanation of circumstances and a meeting toward reconciliation, they were instructed to enter a separate wing through the service entrance at the rear. All of them had already arrived and been shown to the manor’s basement. And by the time the band finished its final number, they would leave the house quietly—dead.
It had been arranged that the bodies would be loaded onto a dragon-drawn carriage and staged to look as if bandits had attacked them along the highway. They had failed to repair relations with their lord and left the party in a huff. Afterward, when 『Viscount Morrow』 pitifully pleaded that talks with his retainers had broken down, those here would accept his words with consolations on their lips—and later learn of the tragedy that followed.
Once tonight ended, the discordant notes would vanish from this domain. It was the true fulfillment of his role as 『Poison』. So convinced, the man calling himself 『Viscount Morrow』 returned a smile to the approaching merchant’s flattery.
“Indeed, a truly splendid feast. By the way, my lord Viscount, have you spoken with that couple over there?”
In the line of sight of the merchant under discussion stood a man and a woman within the circle of invited guests. They were said to be husband and wife, but the eye was first drawn to the wife. Her luxuriant black hair was swept up to a glossy sheen, the cosmetics that colored her white skin and the evening dress she wore all tastefully put together. The dark dress flared more and more toward the hem, all the more accentuating the slender cinch of her waist and her ample curves. Holding an open fan to her lips, she traded light conversation with an older grand dame at her side. The way she moved her eyes, her gestures—each was perfectly judged and polished; she was not merely beautiful, but seemed to know full well how she was seen, and how to conduct herself to please her company.
—Natsumi Schwartz.
If memory served, she was a young lady who had inherited a vast fortune from her father, who had died suddenly—so the guest list recorded. Added on short notice through a letter of introduction from another domain, she was one of the few new faces at tonight’s gathering, which had been meant to be composed of allies.
At her side stood her husband, a tall figure with deep green hair tied back in a single tail. He wore formal attire that bordered on gaudy, and at his waist hung a long sword adorned with ornament. He seemed to come from a martial house; traces of training showed in his posture and gait. Most striking, though, was his face—the eyepatch over his left eye that further impressed his handsome features. The very lack only heightened the beauty that remained; he gave that impression, and standing beside his wife he yielded nothing, the two of them a well-matched couple.
"If you mean that couple, I had a word with them just a moment ago as well."
Noticing where the lord’s gaze had fallen, a lady redolent of perfume cut into the conversation. She seemed fond of gossip, a brightly curious smile peeking out as she said,
"I hear they’re traveling about the country seeking places to invest the lady’s fortune."
"It appears others are interested as well. Naturally I’m among them, but I thought it a touch presumptuous to move ahead of our host, the Viscount."
He answered the lady’s mischievous glance and the merchant’s self-important words with a polite smile. Even so, over the next little while talk of the Schwartz couple reached his ears again and again. By then, the name was etched firmly in Viscount Morrow’s mind.
"—Natsumi Schwartz. Please forgive the discourtesy of my delayed greeting."
Before Natsumi Schwartz, who bowed with such graceful courtesy, Viscount Morrow nodded affably, hiding the hunter’s glint sizing up prey behind his smile.
"We are most grateful, as husband and wife, to be invited to such a splendid affair this evening. Your territory is remarkably lively. It must be proof that your governance, my lord Viscount, is broadly accepted by your people."
Following his wife’s greeting, the husband too bowed politely and praised the abilities of Viscount Morrow. He had, of course, any number of ready replies. The couple were newcomers, but apparently quite talkative, and he had been able to glean information one after another from guests who had spoken with them. Yet as Viscount Morrow weighed which card to play, the husband’s single word—"Only," as a preface to serious business—shut his mouth.
"We are in a position to move the funds entrusted to us by my wife’s family. We cannot make rash judgments on what merely meets the eye."
"From what little we have heard, my lord Viscount, you are advancing several new undertakings within the domain. If you would be so kind, might we hear the particulars?"
Matching her husband, who had lowered his tone ever so slightly, the wife thus cut to the heart of the matter. Indeed, it seemed the order of approach had been thoroughly discussed between them; to keep it at arm’s length with roundabout phrasing would only waste both sides’ time. Change the venue, speak, and have the Schwartz couple also shoulder a share of the duty of spreading Viscount Morrow’s Poison. Misgivings vanished; his hand improved. What a fine day.
"—We are grateful that you would spare the time for us, my lord Viscount."
Not even the guards of Viscount Morrow were allowed into the parlor where he received the couple. Given that it was a private request from the Schwartz couple, one could call it a necessary concession. At any rate, with the bustle of the hall and a heavy door between them, it was just the three of them: Viscount Morrow and the couple.
"I have heard that over the past few months this territory has seen very active changes—expanding the highways and building a new market. ‘Stagnation is the same as decline’: in the Schwartz family, my father taught us that change and growth are the very path to advancement."
As befitted one with an ambitious family precept, the wife’s words did not hide their glitter; with a wry smile, Viscount Morrow poured wine into three glasses with his own hand and took his seat. Without touching his wine, the husband took up where his wife left off, saying, "I hope you will not take offense,"
"I, too, feel the same potential in the Morrow territory as my wife does. In order to trust in that potential and move to act on our side as well, there are a few points I would like to confirm."
The husband moved to seize the initiative; when he stole a glance at his wife, she seemed minded to leave the bargaining to him, her hand holding a closed fan resting on her knee as she smiled with apparent ease. Very well then, Viscount Morrow conveyed that he would procure whatever was needed to secure the interest and understanding of the Schwartz couple.
"The income and expenditures of the enterprise are extremely important. I would of course like to review the documents, but even more than that, what my wife and I place importance on is whether the party we trade with is worthy of trust. — Of late, my lord Viscount, I hear you have driven away many long-serving retainers and are appointing new personnel."
At the topic thus broached, irritation toward the unnecessary retainers swelled within Viscount Morrow. Though the concern would be removed before the night was out, that did not mean his anger at the interlopers faded—especially if they stood as obstacles to bringing in new, seemingly useful personnel.
"Though one ought not to speak of achievement and ability as the same, cutting loose those who have long served is not an easy decision. Surely there were some who had been at your side since your youth, Viscount."
What he wanted to know was how he would be treated after the negotiations concluded and they safely became business partners. For the sake of change, Viscount Morrow had ruthlessly cut retainers of old, and they could not help but wonder how he would favor those he newly welcomed into his inner circle. It was needless worry. If someone was useful, he would not go out of his way to treat them as disposable. That said, if they proved too useful—deemed usable as 'Poison'—then, like Viscount Morrow himself, one could not rule out the possibility of being swapped for a properly usable pawn.
In any case, if it would dispel the doubts of the Schwartz couple, Viscount Morrow, with mounting emotion, told of his memories with the retainers he had had no choice but to cut and of their achievements. None of the memories were inventions; they truly happened. Even about the wounds from when he fell from a dragon, he could give the place he fell, the injuries he sustained, and even the faces and names of all the servants involved. Only by being able to go that far could he finally fulfill his duty not as a placebo but as 'Poison'.
"—I see; that is quite sufficient."
The husband nodded as though moved by Viscount Morrow, who had spoken tearfully of his bonds with his retainers. His amber eyes flicked toward the wife seated beside him. Perhaps their division of roles was that the husband negotiated while the wife held the right to decide. Even so, having heard the exchanges to this point, there should have been no choice but to nod obediently—
"Might I be permitted to confirm just one more thing?"
"Natsumi?"
Perhaps it was an unscripted move; at his wife's words, the husband knit his brows slightly. To the suspicious gaze of the husband—one eye covered by an eyepatch—the wife responded by touching her folded fan beneath her chin, and, her black eyes reflecting Viscount Morrow,
"The Linga tree in the garden has borne fruit again this year. — What does that mean?"
It was a question of a tone quite different from the exchanges to that point, one coming from an entirely different angle. It did not ask about the abilities or human relations of Viscount Dicken Morrow, but concerned an exceedingly personal memory, and it was curious why she voiced it. Yet at that moment, as if to hide that he had been caught off guard by the content of the question, Viscount Morrow etched a small, wry smile on his lips and shook his head.
What Natsumi Schwartz had brought up was a memory with a retainer who had long served Viscount Morrow and retired a few years earlier—a trivial episode in which the real viscount once found the Linga served at that retainer’s home astringent, and promised that from then on he would send sweet Linga every year. Four days ago, a letter from the retainer in question contained similar wording. Viscount Morrow confirmed its meaning with the real viscount himself that very day, closing the gap in memory. Apparently, since then, Linga has been sent every year. This year as well, believing that Viscount Morrow will receive it, the other party will send Linga.
"My… what a lovely invitation that only the two of you would understand."
Hearing this, Natsumi raised a hand to her eyes as if moved and dabbed at the corners. Judging from that reaction, her wariness toward Viscount Morrow seemed to have melted away completely. Not that it would have mattered even if there had been another hundred or two hundred questions; Viscount Morrow would answer, perfectly, with what the real viscount would—
"—A wind of lies is blowing."
When that clear, ringing voice was uttered, Viscount Morrow’s thoughts halted for an instant. Frozen, the cup in his hand suspended at his lips as he tried to moisten them, he saw—within his stiffened field of view—the husband who had spoken raise a hand to his own face and remove his eyepatch. The left eye laid bare—was a dazzling golden Dragon's Eye.
"—!"
The instant he sensed danger, 『Viscount Morrow』 kicked up the table that had been between him and the couple. With a shrill crash, the small table came between the viscount and the couple. But a quietly drawn flash of steel sliced it diagonally in two, and even that couldn’t stop the long leg thrusting out from beyond. The sole of the neatly extended kick struck him in the chest, driving the breath from him, and 『Viscount Morrow』’s body was blown straight backward. However, toppling and rolling back had been his aim all along.
Keeping his opponent in sight, he drew the cane he’d hidden behind the backrest of the settee he’d been sitting on, and leveled the tip of the magic staff set with a magic stone at the impudent couple—no, at the formidable foe. A being bearing the 『Dragon’s Eye』—that was the enemy of their faction, 『Poison』; 『Viscount Morrow』 understood that perfectly. Thus, with no holding back, the blades of wind swelled—
“—E.M.T.!” “I suppose!”
The explosive wind that should have erupted was supposed to rush the foe and slice them to ribbons. But the blades of wind that should have been loosed from the magic staff suddenly lost their potency, were converted into something harmless with neither meaning nor form, and scattered. And at the very moment that mysterious phenomenon occurred, an even more baffling sight leapt into 『Viscount Morrow』’s eyes.
Standing behind the 『Dragon’s Eye』, Natsumi Schwartz—her puffed-out skirt flipped up high, and from within, a little girl in a dress appeared. Could she really have been hiding under the skirt the whole time? Bewilderment took hold of his mind—and that was the deciding blow.
“Unfortunately for you, it seems you chose the wrong opponents.”
With a flashing blade pressed to his neck, freezing his movements, it was not the sword-wielding 『Dragon’s Eye』 but Natsumi Schwartz, accompanied by a young girl at her side, who for some reason wore a triumphant smile at 『Viscount Morrow』.
△▼△▼△▼△
—Due to the sudden illness of Viscount Dicken Morrow, the soirée was brought to an early close.
Leaving words of concern for the viscount’s condition, the invited guests filed out one after another, and the musicians arranged for the feast left the estate as well, and at long last the hubbub of the soirée faded away completely. Only then did Subaru, after surveying the people gathered anew on the mansion’s first floor—in a secluded room in the back—let out a small breath of relief.
“Truly, I’m so relieved from the bottom of my heart that nothing happened to any of you…”
“Hey, how long are you planning to stay in character! Acting like you own the place—what is that, some so-called knightly specialty, huh!?”
Subaru—still in his Natsumi Schwartz mode, pressing a handkerchief to his eyes to hold back tears of emotion—was berated from the side by Rachins, dressed as a server. Clad in the black and white getup that called to mind a bartender or garcon, and with neatly groomed hair to match, he looked every bit the promising young man. In fact, during the infiltrated soirée, his handling of things seemed to have been quite well received by the ladies.
“That look in your eyes, though. I understand, you know. Ever since I was little, people around me had all sorts to say about my eyes.”
“Don’t go lumping me in with you. We just happened to cross paths. I got no use for guys who’ll happily throw on a dress.”
“Are you sure you want to say that? There might be a gentleman or two in your own camp who’d look surprisingly good in women’s clothes.”
“As if! You and that 『Blue Snake』 both…”
“—Huh? Were you just talking about me?”
Rachins’s cheek stiffened as his lips twisted to curse. In the corner of his eye as he glanced back, the one who appeared by opening the door from the adjoining room, wearing the same server’s outfit, was Ferris. Having taken off the jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, Ferris wiped the blood on his hands with a cloth while glaring at Rachins and, for some reason, at Subaru as well.
“Good work, 『Blue Snake』. Are the injured all right?”
“—Well. Barely. The people who’d been gathered in the annex… thanks to 『Long Tongue』 and the others stopping it, those who were inconvenient to the swap were about to be executed all together. Even so, the one picked to go first was in real danger.”
“You pulled it back from there? Your magic’s a damn monster, as always.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Even if 『Long Tongue』 is on the verge of dying, this monster—me—will make sure to patch him right up.”
Ferris did not ease the barbed tongue toward the foul-mouthed Rachins. With a wry smile at the two who still couldn’t quite get along, Subaru watched relief spread among the anxious people—the former retainers of Dicken Morrow who had escaped execution. Hearing that their gravely wounded comrade had been saved, they were at last beginning to feel safe. And then—
“Ku-hahahaha, what a bunch—things turned out well, yet you can’t even get into the spirit! If you made it out alive, then whoop it up! If you’ve got worries, then wail and howl! We don’t have any use for wishy-washy halfway types.”
Just as the room was starting to settle into relief, a peal of raucous laughter threw cold water over it. He stomped across the floor and peered into the room without a shred of restraint: a tall, strapping young man with dark skin and wavy, wheat-colored hair. His face, which would be handsome if set firm, was twisted into a deep sneer as he cheerfully tipped a bottle of liquor to his lips. He was, ostensibly, wearing the same server’s uniform as Ferris and the others, yet his behavior and manner made it seem an entirely different outfit altogether. Still, Subaru and his companions were used to his demeanor—anyone else, fresh from being saved from mortal peril, would have found it far too abrasive.
"Hey, Black Dog, what is that attitude supposed to be? To people who were in such danger, how can you be so lacking in consideration...?"
"Oh? What’s this, a lecture? But! Before you harp on about my attitude, maybe take a look at yourself for hiding the truth, yeah? And anyway, this and that and the other—I’m the great benefactor who saved their lives. You’ve got no grounds to complain, do you?"
"That’s a separate matter entirely..."
"If you’re going to slice things up however you like with your logic, then I’ll match it as I please with mine. Go on, if you want to console them, knock yourself out. Me, I’ll be pouring my own drinks. If the beautiful duchess wants to pour for me, though, I’d be all for it. Kuhahaha!"
If both sides are just invoking their own logic, it’s hard to press the successful Black Dog too hard. In fact, without his cooperation, they could never have eliminated the harm from the nothing-but-vile Body Double operation being carried out in Viscount Dicken Morrow’s manor—no, even now, it may be too soon to say they’ve wiped it out entirely.
"Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any signs of it anywhere in the manor. We should assume, after all, that the real one is being held somewhere else."
As Subaru quietly clenched his fist, Beatrice returned with a report that confirmed exactly that fear. Beside her—who had been circling the manor in search of any magical traces or contrivances—stood the elegant Crusch, who had accompanied her in probing for anything suspicious. Having played the husband in a married-couple act with Natsumi Schwartz, she, with her eyepatch refastened and her gallant beauty restored, affirmed Beatrice’s report with a, "That’s right."
"I made the rounds with the Librarian, but nothing out of the ordinary met my eyes either. The thing that took on the form of Dicken Morrow still shows no sign of opening its mouth. If any of its subordinates were alive, it might be a different story, but..."
"Kuhahaha, my condolences for your misfortune."
Even when fixed with Crusch’s sharp gaze, Black Dog didn’t so much as flinch. Even masked and robed, hiding his identity, the man had always given off a facetious, insolent air; stripped of them and showing a face that didn’t fit that persona, his eccentric impression only grew stronger. At any rate—
"—Our lord was nowhere to be found, then?"
It was one of the old retainers, seated in a chair, who let that slip in a hoarse voice before the assembled faces. Fourteen of the viscount’s retainers in all had been summoned to the annex and nearly executed. Each could be called a true loyalist who felt something off about the fake Viscount Morrow created by the Body Double. The others, though silent, surely felt the same concern for their lord.
"...Long Tongue."
"Tch. Hate to tell you this, but we checked not just this manor—the annex and the basement too. Those two over there probably made sure there weren’t any hidden rooms or the like, as well. But we came up empty."
"Then, my lord is..."
With their suspicions treated as fact and no trace anywhere of the real one whose place had been usurped by the impostor, the old retainers’ faces fell under the weight of dejection and resignation. But Subaru said, "Wait,"
"It’s too soon to give up. I asked the impostor—about that story of the Linga between someone who used to work here at the manor and Viscount Morrow."
"Do you mean the story with my predecessor, the steward? But that’s..."
"He’s working with us. And the letter about that matter was written four days ago... moreover, that impostor answered it perfectly. Isn’t that right, Jade Beauty?"
"That’s right. There was no lie in those words. They weren’t his own memories, but the story itself can be considered true. —I see. So that’s why you peppered him with those unplanned questions."
"Yes. —Do you see? The impostor knew a recollection you could only know by hearing it from the real Viscount Morrow. Which means—"
"—My lord is alive?"
"—Yes. Without a doubt."
Subaru stepped up to the old retainer—an elderly man whose eyes had flown wide—took his dry, wrinkled hand, and gave him a deep nod. At once, tears welled in the man’s eyes, and the impulse spread to those around them. Taking that as the cue, the air in the room, which had been on the verge of being smothered by heaviness, changed. No one broke into loud sobs, but faces that had been about to sink into despair lifted one after another, and in their eyes there settled a sense of duty—to search for their lord whose whereabouts were unknown.
「Then, by any means necessary, we must find the master and bring him back—」
「—Your sentiments are correct. But precisely for your lord’s sake, that course of action cannot be recommended.」
「—」
Yet the one who squarely put a stop to the old retainers’ resolve was Crusch, dressed as a man. Just as when, at the soirée, they subdued the impostor who had posed as 『Viscount Morrow』, she touched the longsword at her waist and, with a stately bearing, looked over the retainers. At that sharp gaze, they quavered and asked, 'Why…?'
「Right now, this domain has lost its lord. Among those appointed by the impostor, some will have obeyed without knowing the circumstances, while others may be in league with the enemy. If we do not straighten out the chain of command, keep state affairs from stalling, and minimize the impact on the populace, how great will the ensuing chaos be?」
「That is…」
「When the real Dicken Morrow returns, if the domain lies in ruin, the people suffer, and nothing remains of what a viscount ought to protect, then that cannot, in the truest sense, be called the salvation of one’s lord.」
「—」
In response to Crusch’s continuing words, the old retainers, who at first had been confused and resentful, began to show understanding and acceptance spreading across their expressions, and they naturally started lending an ear to her argument. It was proof that she possessed an innate charisma—one that compels and guides—
「From here on, what you must do is make the domain appear unchanged from this very day. So that the removal of the impostor is not perceived, take on the administration collegially, and spread the word that the viscount is bedridden with illness. For the lord who will one day return—guard that seat, the place to which the viscount will come home.」
Thinking of the weight carried by those words coming from Crusch, Subaru stole a glance at her profile. In that profile as she faced the old retainers and delivered her dignified words, there was no personal sentiment. Only that she, too, had been deprived of her place by unjust suspicion and was being driven ever onward.
「There you go again…」
The one who murmured so softly from behind—who, regarding Crusch’s present circumstances, could not help but harbor the strongest, most impulsive feelings—was Ferris. But that did not reach Crusch, who stood facing the loyal retainers as they slapped their wan cheeks with their hands and nodded deeply.
「—Understood. Until the master returns, we will, without fail, protect this land and his seat. Therefore—」
「Ah, you may leave it to us.」
At the words of the determined retainers, Crusch also returned a deep nod. And then—
「—Even if I must spill every drop of blood that runs in this body, I will, without fail, hew away the cancer that has infested this Kingdom and put your worries to rest.」
Thus she answered—despite being one driven from her station—with a self-assurance that could not have been more fitting for a Royal Selection candidate.
△▼△▼△▼△
「—Everyone, good work! With no damage on our side, the operation was a success.」
「Well, when it’s Betty and Subaru, this much is only natural, you know. 『White Sheep』 did a pretty good job, too, I suppose. I shall praise you.」
「Ah, th-thank you. I—I’m humbled.」
Nodding over and over, the one who smiled shyly at Beatrice’s words of appreciation was 『White Sheep』, who had played an especially large role in this operation. Dressed not in her usual black suit but in a pale blue evening gown to infiltrate the soirée, she, like the Schwartz couple played by Subaru and Crusch, had slipped into that banquet as an invited guest, and had made deft use of her affability to guide the participants’ talk so that the impostor 『Viscount Morrow』 would take an interest in the Schwartz couple.
「Of course, we did our best to handle our parts without a hitch, but even so, 『White Sheep』’s competence really surprised me. You were a huge help.」
「N-no, Subaru—um, I mean, Natsumi and the others—it was thanks to your strength that we succeeded. I-I really didn’t do much at all.」
「Saying you didn’t do much is a lie. Also, I’ve already taken off the wig and removed the makeup, so don’t call me Natsumi—call me Subaru. I don’t want to go by Natsumi in an incomplete state.」
「Eh, but I’m still in the dress… Ah, it’s nothing. Okay.」
Tilting his head at 『White Sheep』, who had started to say something but swallowed it back down in the end, Subaru felt, more than the urge to press her on it, the wave of fatigue that came with the release of tension crash over him.
「Honestly, it went so well it almost went too well…」
Thinking that, Subaru, clad in a dress, looked back toward Viscount Morrow's manor, where the former retainers had kept bowing to see them off until the very last. What happened there tonight will be kept secret, and until the day the real viscount returns, the retainers' efforts will likely keep the domain itself intact. However—,
"Let me tell you, they must have realized it too. There's the possibility that, once the enemy catches on, the real viscount will be disposed of."
"Rachins..."
"Don't you go spouting some overheated line about being entrusted with it anyway. You can't just keep shouldering other people's baggage one after another. We're already up to our necks with your own load as it is, on our side."
At Rachins's click of the tongue, Subaru couldn't find any words to retort. In truth, whether they could restore Viscount Morrow's domain to its original state would come down to clinging to a slender hope and trusting in a miracle to carry them across a precariously hung bridge. And those who had to believe in that miracle weren't limited to Viscount Morrow's domain alone.
"Already two months..."
Branding remorse and impatience into himself, Subaru let his thoughts drift over the time that had passed—two full months since he and the others were driven from the Royal Capital and began operating alongside 'Six Tongues.' In that time, they had moved from place to place across the Kingdom, slipped into the depths of the Kingdom of Lugunica, and continued their battle against the 'Beloved Children,' who were quite literally plotting the overthrow of the state. What shocked him was that the replacements carried out by the 'Beloved Children' were not confined to the upper echelons of the Royal Capital, but had spread to every corner of the Kingdom. In these two months, Subaru and the rest had resolved five cases like Viscount Morrow's tonight—this made the sixth.
"The damage the Kingdom has suffered from the 'Body Double' is severe. I know there's meaning in crushing them one by one. I know that, but..."
"Subaru, you mustn't be hasty, I suppose. Emilia and the others at the castle are surely safe. On that point, Crusch has given her guarantee, I suppose."
"—Strictly speaking, we have our people who remained in the castle verify it, and then 'Jade Beauty' uses her blessing to confirm that I am not falsifying their report."
"——"
Beatrice laid her small hands atop Subaru's clenched one, leaning close to his heart. And into their exchange, a figure who had emerged from the building cut in. In the forest away from the Morrow estate, at the entrance of the hunting cabin 'Six Tongues' had secured as a temporary rendezvous, stood Russell Fellow, the chief of the organization in question.
"Mr. Russell, did the chief himself really come all the way out to greet us?"
"Yes. The 'White Sheep' I sent out to meet you hasn't returned for quite some time, so I wondered if some unforeseen contingency had occurred. Also, during operations I believe I asked you to use 'Silver Fox,' 'Gray Star.'"
"Hmm, so we're still counted as being mid-mission?"
"At the very least, until we can judge that you've changed out of the dress, transferred custody of the captured fake Dicken Morrow, and safely withdrawn from this place."
At Russell's meticulously cautious reply, Subaru scratched his cheek with a finger. After all he'd seen of the enemy's moves, he had no grounds to voice any optimistic take like "you're overthinking it" or "we don't have to go that far." It was a fact that Russell's thorough policy was what was keeping 'Six Tongues'—and by extension, the Kingdom—alive.
"But setting aside my 'Gray Star' and Beako's 'Librarian,' isn't Rachins's 'Long Tongue' a bit too slapdash? Crusch's 'Jade Beauty' at least went my way."
"'Obvious yet obscure' is the requirement. Please, all of you, come inside. There are things I wish to discuss regarding our course from here. —Ah, and, 'Gray Star'..."
"Yeah?"
"Even if it did not ultimately affect the operation, inserting unnecessary exchanges carried a very high risk of arousing the other party's suspicion. I'd like you to stop doing such things thoughtlessly. It endangers all of us—in other words, the Kingdom itself."
At the warning, delivered with narrowed eyes and a quiet tone, Subaru let out a small "uh." The point being made had, frankly, been a unilateral decision he took fully prepared for the consequences. It had been Subaru who asked Viscount Morrow's former steward—their informant—to write a letter recounting memories of Linga. All of it was because, when asked about information the imposter wouldn't know, he wanted certainty that the source—namely, the real one, kept alive—had been contacted and heard from. And the ones saved by having that information were not something as grand as the Kingdom of Lugunica, which Russell prioritized, but—
"It was necessary to save the retainers who would have hung their heads in despair at their lord's life being lost right then and there."
Yes—the one who revealed the true intent behind Subaru’s actions from behind was Crusch, who happened to be there. She, of all people, could be said to be the one most dragged into danger by Subaru’s unilateral decision. Of course, that also goes for Beatrice, who had been holding her breath beneath her skirt.
"『Jade Beauty』, do you approve of his actions?"
"If we prioritize rationality, then 『Gray Star』’s unilateral move can hardly be praised. Even from a ducal perspective, one could call it a mistaken judgment. —However."
"However?"
"Now I am pursued by the country and stripped of my ducal station. Moreover, on a personal level, I even find this man’s softness agreeable. As for the burden placed upon you, I offer my heartfelt sympathy."
"…I’ll take your opinion under advisement."
To Crusch’s bold favoritism toward Subaru, Russell rubbed at his eyes and replied thus.
"Forgive me, but let me go inside. As expected, using this eye puts a great strain on me. I won’t doze off, but I’d like to sit."
Leaving those words behind, Crusch slipped past Russell and went into the hunting cabin. During the discussion, the indifferent 『Black Dog』 had already entered the building, and when 『White Sheep』 hastily bowed, they probably dashed into the cabin to prepare enough tea for everyone.
"Hah, I get the urge to say this and that. So go ahead and say whatever you like—I won’t mind. Even an idiot wouldn’t do it without any chance of success, right?"
Chuckling at the scolded Subaru, Rachins, who had slung his jacket over his shoulder, went into the cabin. Russell did not respond to those words—hard to tell whether they were consolation or pity—and instead glanced at Ferris standing behind Subaru and the others,
"『Blue Snake』, you too—inside. You may be tired."
"Not really. Both the headcount and the severity of the injuries are way better than when things were at their worst. If I said I was tired from just this, I wouldn’t be of any use at the Royal Capital’s clinic."
Ferris fluttered a hand in reply, and Russell shrugged and headed back into the cabin. As for Subaru, he was well aware he had contributed to Russell’s worries, and honestly, he was full of the urge to apologize.
"It’d only end up rubbing his nerves the wrong way, though."
"Can’t be helped. Call it the duty of those on top. It’s unusual how Emilia and Roswaal are strangers to that kind of anguish."
"Maybe so. And if we told him the truth, we’d probably just make Mr. Russell even angrier."
Even knowing Russell was meeting them as far as he could halfway, Subaru still couldn’t stop himself from wanting more on his own. The prime example was today’s unilateral decision, and though Rachins had said what he did—
"Truth is, you never had any winning odds, did you?"
"Ferris…"
"『Blue Snake』, okay? If 『Silver Fox』 hears, he’ll make a fuss—about you, 『Gray Star』, and you, 『Librarian』."
"——"
"You’re awfully good at leaning on others, 『Gray Star』—honestly. —Downright enviable."
With that, in a cute voice but while fixing him with a not-at-all-cute sharp gaze, Ferris left Subaru at a loss for words. Without allowing any further reply, Ferris too slipped past Subaru and went into the hunting cabin, leaving only Subaru and Beatrice there.
"Haa, I’m really giving it my all here, aren’t I, ベア子?"
"Betty is always watching over Subaru’s hard work from the closest place. …I’m sure everyone’s safe. They’re a tough bunch who don’t give in, after all."
"—Yeah. This isn’t the time for us to be the ones throwing in the towel."
Even if it was only via Russell, they had just barely been able to confirm the safety of Emilia and Ram, who were left at the castle. But they still had no idea what had become of Rem, Otto, and the others who had apparently escaped. Only a grim kind of trust in the enemy—who would surely make a grand announcement if they had captured them and would use anything and everything—was, indirectly, telling them they were safe, or so he convinced himself.
In any case—
"—I’ve had enough! I need not just Emilia, but Rem, Ram, Garfiel, Otto, Petra, Meili, and Frederica too! And Roswaal as well, while we’re at it!"
"Can’t be helped. For now, you’ll have to make do with Beatrice alone."
"Whoaaa—Beatrice absorption! Time for a ベア子 inhale!"
Thinking of the comrades he missed and whose absence only made his feelings grow, Subaru scooped Beatrice up, hugged her light body, and spun around and around. As he turned, he prayed to the twinkling, glimmering stars—for their safety, and for a reunion.
"『Gray Star』! 『Librarian』! I told you to come inside! Don’t make me say it again and again!"
And so the scolding voice of Russell, a sound they had heard many times these past two months, rang high through the forest’s night sky.
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