"Thanks for the help."
Cruello smiled brightly.
"Because of you, we wrapped things up much earlier than expected."
"So the Grand Elder is just a fish caught in the net now?"
"Haha. Like you said, there won’t be any more real dangers from now on."
"Hmm."
"I only maintained the engagement because it made cooperation easier. If you want, I’ll call it off. Of course, you’ll be properly compensated for whatever you feel you’re owed."
"..."
"Then, let’s meet again as friends."
Was this his way of saying that he would sort out his feelings by then?
If that was the case, why confess in the first place?
No, I had no right to complain—I was the one who asked in the first place.
I parted my lips slightly, then simply nodded.
"Let’s go."
Accepting Cruello’s offered hand, I stepped into the gate.
A strange, very strange feeling lingered in my chest.
***
Tetanio White Desert, whom we thought had escaped, was found.
Surprisingly, he had been crushed under debris just before reaching the exit.
He had somehow survived, though he suffered permanent injuries. Whether that was good or bad luck was debatable.
He already had health issues—who knew how much longer he’d live now?
As per our agreement with the Crown Prince, we framed him as the mastermind behind the assassination attempt.
The imperial family wasted no time in dispatching knights to take him into custody.
That was the last smooth part of the process.
The trial was repeatedly delayed, and no investigators were sent to White Desert.
Clearly, they were still afraid of the Grand Elder.
I couldn’t help but wonder how frustrated the Crown Prince must be.
As for that old man—no one had seen him lately.
Cruello had been so confident about handling him, so I decided to leave it to him.
Looking back, though, this entire case had been nothing more than...
A battle of idiots.
Between us, who fell for yet another decoy, and Tetanio, who failed to escape and ended up buried under rubble—who was the bigger fool?
We won by pure chance, but it didn’t feel good at all.
I pouted and let out a long sigh.
"Not that I care about him anymore."
There was something far more pressing on my mind.
"I'm not asking you to accept it, so don’t worry about it."
"Oh, so it’s fine as long as you don’t worry about it?!"
Grumbling, I pounded my fists against the sofa cushions.
Right now, those cushions looked an awful lot like Cruello.
He was the one who confessed, so why did I feel like the one who got rejected?
If his conclusion was to give up, then why confess at all?!
Thanks to him, my emotions were a complete mess.
"Ugh!"
Frustrated, I grabbed a cushion and hurled it across the room.
Right at that moment, my door swung open.
As if drawn by fate, the cushion smacked straight into someone’s face.
Gavotte Bonetti.
"Sio—ugh!"
"Oh."
Clap, clap, clap.
I gave a slow round of applause.
"That was a theatrical entrance. 95 points."
"You threw a cushion at my face, and that’s your reaction?"
Gavotte irritably picked up the cushion and placed it neatly back on the sofa.
I had braced myself for a fight, but now I just felt awkward.
"Wow, this is what noble manners look like."
"What nonsense. There are plenty of aristocrats with terrible tempers."
"True. I guess you’re just special."
"...Shut up."
Blushing, Gavotte sat down across from me.
Was he just here to kill time?
"So, what’s the issue this time?"
"What issue?"
"You’ve been holed up in your room, beating up cushions ever since you got back. Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?"
"You came here just to listen to my problems?"
"If you don’t need me, I’ll leave."
"N-no, wait!"
Honestly, if it were Minuet, I never would have said a word.
Not because she was cold, but because she was ridiculously perceptive.
But Gavotte...
He was an idiot.
He wouldn’t understand a thing!
Feeling reassured, I opened my mouth.
"Gavotte, this is about someone I know."
"Huh? Usually, when people say that, they’re talking about themselves."
No!
Gavotte was smarter than I gave him credit for.
There was no one in this world I could trust.
"What? Why are you making that face? Just tell me. I won’t repeat it to anyone."
"...No need to be that secretive. Just don’t tell Minuet."
"What?"
He raised an eyebrow and adjusted his posture.
Then, lowering his voice to a more serious tone, he asked,
"Did you kill someone?"
"What the hell?!"
Well, I had killed people, but still—!
"Then what is it?"
"Like I said, this is really about someone I know. Not me. Definitely not me."
Technically, that was the truth.
This was Siora Bonetti’s story, not mine.
Cruello said he liked Siora. He never said he liked ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) me.
"My friend got a confession from their fiancé."
"What, as a joke?"
"It wasn’t!"
"He calls you all sorts of cheesy nicknames all the time. Is saying ‘I like you’ really that big of a deal?"
"He kissed—!"
Oh, shit.
I had been so indignant I blurted out something I shouldn’t have.
I hurriedly shut my mouth, but Gavotte still looked unimpressed.
"Everyone knows you two kissed at the engagement ceremony. So what? What did he say afterward? Did he propose?"
"He said we should break off the engagement."
"Seriously?"
Why did he look so happy about that?
Beaming, Gavotte let out an exclamation.
"That bastard actually did something commendable?"
"How is that commendable?"
"What’s with you, Siora? You never said a word about calling off the engagement before. Don’t tell me... you actually like him?"
"What the hell?!"
Why was he asking the same thing as Minuet?!
Were these siblings designed to think alike?!
No, actually—Cruello needed to be included in that list, too.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
Cruello accused me of liking Gavotte, while Gavotte accused me of liking Cruello.
They couldn’t stand each other, yet their thought processes were in perfect sync, like twin souls.
"Wait a second. You never showed any signs before, and you only started acting differently recently. So he must have brought up breaking the engagement just a short while ago?"
"Huh? Well, yeah, but—ah! I told you, this isn’t about me!"
"Then the kiss also happened recently?"
"..."
"That crazy bastard assaulted you?"
"What?! No!"
Ignoring my protests, Gavotte shot up from his seat.
A bad feeling crept up my spine. I quickly grabbed his arm.
"Where are you going?"
"Minuet’s office."
"You promised not to tell her!"
"Let go! If Minuet finds out later, she’ll lose her mind and drag me down with you! You expect me to just sit on this?!"
"What’s there to freak out about?! We’re engaged! A kiss isn’t a big deal!"
"Yeah, well, the engagement itself is the problem! Pianissimo, get Siora off of me!"
"No, help me, Pianissimo!"
A soft green glow gathered in the air.
From the light, tiny wings sprouted with a pop, followed by twig-like little legs.
Pianissimo, appearing with a grand flourish, fluttered into action.
The tiny bird spirit wrapped Gavotte’s entire body in gentle, leafy winds, rooting him firmly in place.
"Urgh!"
At least it set him down gently rather than letting him crash to the floor.
Then, as if to tell him don’t fight, Pianissimo tapped his head lightly.
Betrayed, Gavotte trembled in rage.
Oh dear.
"Pianissimo, you—"
But the little spirit had already flitted over to perch on my finger, entirely unconcerned.
I stroked it affectionately.
Good job. Very good job.
Gavotte shouted furiously.
"You really think you can keep this secret forever?!"
"Anyone who hears us would think I committed treason or something. Why do you hate Cruello so much? Is it just because of his bad reputation, or is there something else—?"
I trailed off.
A sudden realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.
Wait a second!
I had read about this kind of scenario before.
Slowly, cautiously, I asked him,
"Gavotte... do you, by any chance, like me?"
"What kind of question is that? Of course I do."
Gasp!
I sucked in a sharp breath.
Was this... another confession?!
I should’ve checked my daily horoscope!
"You don’t even like discussing your family issues, yet you care about me?"
"Obviously. You’re family."
Oh.
Relieved, I placed a hand over my chest.
Good. That was just my imagination.
Still, I made sure to give him a warning.
"You should really phrase things more carefully, Gavotte. I almost mistook that for forbidden love."
"You should watch your mouth!"
Gavotte’s whole body shook with outrage.
Touchy, touchy.
***
The Grand Elder wasn’t far from his mansion.
He had built a secret temple—one that existed solely for himself.
There, he had spent years preparing to unleash Morion, and now, at last, the final steps had been completed.
"Finally..."
The wish of his ancestors would be fulfilled by his hands.
The faithful who had perished would be revived, and their destined glory would begin.
For a moment, he thought of those he had lost.
Before summoning the central figures of this plan, he knelt before a statue.
It was the same female deity statue that Siora Bonetti had once defiled in the ruined temple.
Everything else had been shattered, left in ruins, yet this remained untouched, unscathed.
Here, he could feel the presence of the demon he served.
Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes, clasping his hands together in prayer.
No revelation would come—he knew that.
After all, that was nothing more than a lie crafted by Nigellia.
For decades, the emptiness he had felt was a meaningless delusion.
When his prayer ended, he slowly opened his eyes.
At that very moment, he sensed someone approaching from behind.
Cruello White Desert.
"Only you remain, Grand Elder."
Even before turning, he could feel the chill in the air.
The old man rose to his feet and faced him, a smile unconsciously curling his lips.
Cruello, the young heir, stood with an ice-forged spear gripped tightly in his hand.
"I thought you came to negotiate, but it seems you’ve grown arrogant after killing the Second Elder."
"I wasn’t the one who did that."
"That’s exactly the problem."
Click, click.
Heorim clicked his tongue, openly displeased.
He had intended to teach the boy magic early on, but he refrained, thinking it better for him to learn of his own will.
Even when he tried to push him through Eden, Cruello had remained stubborn.
In the end, he only started learning magic at seventeen.
His raw talent had shone through regardless, but by objective standards, he was still inexperienced.
He had barely studied magic for five years.
The boy had no worthy opponents outside, and leaning on Siora Bonetti’s divine power had made him complacent.
It had clouded his judgment.
"Looks like I’ll have to teach you the value of humility one last time."
A deep blue flame surged from the head of the Grand Elder’s cane.