I already knew the meeting date.
It was supposed to be ten days after I met the investigator.
To confirm the exact date, I checked the calendar, thinking hard. Hmm.
"February 8th."
I knew it was coming up soon, but only one day remained?
The sudden realization doubled the pressure.
Of course, I wasn’t obligated to deliver the robe to this so-called "direct senior"—someone I didn’t even know—but since I was the only one who could, I couldn’t ignore it.
But February 8th… February 8th…
Why did that date feel so familiar?
"Did I have another appointment that day?"
"Lady Siora, it's Betty. Are you in the study?"
"Yeah, come in. What is it?"
"His Grace the Duke has sent a message."
"Cruello…?"
"He said he’s extremely busy for the time being and won’t be able to make time, so even if you don’t hear from him—"
"Cruello!"
I cut Betty off with a loud shout.
She widened her eyes in surprise, but my mind had cleared instantly.
Right! February 8th! Tomorrow was Cruello’s birthday.
"And he says he's busy?"
"Huh? Oh, yes. He said he would contact you later."
I recalled how exhausted he had looked, sleeping in the parlor, his face worn with fatigue.
What could possibly keep a puppet duke so busy?
At this rate, his birthday might as well be his death anniversary—it wouldn’t make a difference.
Still, since we were engaged, I should at least buy him a present. Ares was dead anyway.
Just as I was debating whether to go out and buy something, another visitor stormed into the study.
"Lady Siora, the Marquise of Somon is here to see you."
Ugh.
Nothing ever works in Cruello’s favor, does it?
***
Nigellia White Desert arrived wearing black gloves again.
They were slightly shorter this time, but she never removed them, which only made me more suspicious.
"I've been wondering—do you keep the key on your hand?"
"So you finally ask. You've been staring at them for so long, I knew this question would come eventually."
"Oh? Does that mean you'll answer?"
"No."
Why is she so tight-lipped?
I glared at her in annoyance.
"I was burned badly during an experiment. Wouldn’t it look ridiculous if I wore just one glove?"
"Hmm."
So she was burned while conducting experiments—basically, she got punished for meddling in things she shouldn't have.
With no more room for idle chatter, Nigellia shifted the atmosphere and spoke.
"At last, the final trial."
"Indeed."
I answered with little tension.
Realistically, my role ended with the second trial.
The third trial was about purging the cult. No matter how difficult it was, it was Cruello’s task now.
Nigellia sat straight, observing me.
Her eyes looked darker than usual.
"The others who took this trial before you always said the final task was the hardest. Yet, you don't seem nervous."
"Hmm. You know why."
She smiled, oddly amused.
But that didn’t change the fact that she had her own frustrations.
I had them too.
"The final reward is a key, correct?"
"I do not break my promises. As a researcher, I have no desire to disrupt established rules."
"Then give me the last task."
"Wait."
Why was she stalling?
I had things to do. I still needed to go out and buy something.
This was unlike her.
But even after saying that, Nigellia did nothing for a long moment.
Just as I was about to break the silence—
Beep!
A sharp sound rang out.
The source came from Nigellia’s chest.
The familiar noise made me frown as she pulled out a small, round crystal.
It was the same type of communication orb Qudil had used.
The crystal turned red, and a voice came through.
[Preparations are complete, Second Elder.]
Nigellia set the orb on the table and murmured.
"The third trial is ready."
"Oh, good timing."
"Show me."
At her brief command, the communication orb darkened.
A murky, indistinct scene gradually sharpened into focus.
I had been watching idly—until I suddenly froze.
A young man appeared in the image.
He was slumped over in a chair, blindfolded and bound.
The room was dim, but thanks to a magic stone lamp on the wall, his physique was visible.
But the most decisive feature—
His hair.
Where the orange glow of the lamp touched, it shimmered a brilliant silver.
Even with part of his face obscured, he looked far too much like Gavotte Bonetti.
I slowly exhaled the breath I had been holding.
"You put an impressive amount of effort into this nasty little trick."
"Desperate people unlock their true potential. How does it feel?"
"I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not falling for it. I literally spoke to Gavotte just a moment ago."
"Yes. A moment ago."
Nigellia didn’t waver in the slightest.
She was practically claiming that in those few short moments, she had captured Gavotte and made him a hostage.
Even knowing this was a mind game, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease.
"……"
I reached out and rang the servant bell in the parlor.
A moment later, Betty entered through the door.
Nigellia casually covered the communication orb.
"Did you call for me, Lady Siora?"
I asked immediately—
"Where is Gavotte right now?"
"Lord Gavotte is currently out on an errand."
My heart lurched.
He went outside?
"When?"
"Right after you entered the study."
"…About thirty minutes ago."
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
Nigellia and Betty’s statements aligned.
Sensing something off, the maid glanced around uneasily.
"If it's urgent, I can let him know as soon as he returns."
"No, Betty. …I understand. You may go."
Betty hesitated but eventually left the parlor.
The moment the door shut, the atmosphere shifted entirely.
It felt like my heart had grown heavier, pressing against my ribs.
Breathe. Stay calm.
There’s no need to overthink this.
Don’t take it too seriously. Nothing has happened yet.
Repeating those familiar words, I ran my hands over my face.
"So you're saying this is actually Gavotte."
"If you still don't believe me, would you like to hear his screams?"
"Spare me."
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to meet Nigellia’s gaze.
My lips curled into a sneer.
Right.
"So believing that this was just about ‘cleansing the cult’ makes me an idiot, doesn’t it?"
There wasn’t even a need to keep up formalities anymore.
"If that were a lie, Cruello would have known. It was the truth then, and it's the truth now. I do want to wipe out the power-hungry unbelievers."
"Then—"
"Only the priority has changed. If you wish, I can explain in detail… but are you sure you have the time for that?"
Nigellia placed a small hourglass on the table.
"You seem to be running short on it."
"……"
"Don't overcomplicate things. This is just a ‘trial.’ Even a moth only flies into flames when it believes there’s a chance of survival."
She was smiling, but there wasn’t a trace of warmth in her eyes.
"For thirty minutes, no one in the temple will know that Gavotte Bonetti is being held prisoner. If you get to him before then, nothing will happen."
"Oh? So the person standing guard isn’t a cultist?"
"The moment you break the rules, that person will return to his post and dispose of the hostage."
Having finished her business, Nigellia rose from the sofa.
Even as I watched, I couldn’t reach out to grab her.
"This is the final trial, Siora. Rescue the hostage. Of course, you must go alone, just like before."
"……"
"There will be no leniency this time. The moment you contact Cruello, that boy dies."
She let out a quiet chuckle and stepped out of the parlor.
"Best of luck."
Clunk.
The sound of the door closing snapped me back to reality.
There was no time to sit here feeling defeated.
I grabbed the communication orb and hourglass Nigellia had left behind and ran to my room.
Betty was waiting outside, probably suspicious of my urgency, but I had no time to deal with her.
I pulled out my cult robes from their hiding spot and quickly changed.
The weight in my pocket made me pause.
There were two robes—one from the investigator and my original.
After a moment of hesitation, I chose the former.
Just as I was about to slip on my serpent ring and put on a mask, the door swung open without warning.
Betty.
Her face was ashen, but she didn’t ask any questions. She only said one thing—
"Should I contact His Grace?"
"No."
I answered immediately.
Bringing Cruello would ensure my safety, but it wouldn’t guarantee the hostage’s.
Nigellia had already given her warning.
And to Cruello, Gavotte held no value.
I bit down on my lip before softening my response.
"Contact him in thirty minutes."
Without waiting for her answer, I rubbed the ring.
The world blurred, and then I was standing in a familiar alleyway.
Unlike last time, it was broad daylight.
Still, there wasn’t a single soul in sight.
I used my pass to cross the second gate and immediately descended underground.
The sound of my footsteps echoed strangely—like they didn’t belong to me.
Moving mechanically, I finally had space to think.
Was this really the right decision?
I knew I had grown attached to Gavotte.
But was he worth risking my life for?
Was I just indulging in some reckless hero complex?
Or had I become too absorbed in this fake ‘family’ act?
This wasn't the choice I would have made before.
Yet, here I was, walking straight into a trap knowing it was a trap.
It wasn’t the first time, though.
I had done the same when I got into White Desert’s carriage on my engagement day.
And again, when I attended Bonetti’s heir trial.
But back then, I hadn’t thought it would be dangerous.
Because… Cruello had been there.
Mid-stride, I paused.
My legs moved forward again, but my mind stayed behind.
"Since when did I start relying on him?"
At first, I was just relieved that Cruello wasn’t aligned with the Elder Council.
But now—why?
A strange feeling twisted in my stomach.
Not because I was doubting him.
But because the idea of leaning on someone at all felt unnatural.
I had always been alone—
"Is this really the time for this?"
Slap.
I smacked both of my cheeks, hard.
No matter how tangled my thoughts were, I had already made my choice.
I had to focus and get the best outcome possible.
I could deal with my emotions later.
Just as I steadied myself, I arrived at a metal door.
But I couldn’t open it right away.