Thinking about Siora Bonetti only dampened her mood further.
It was hard to imagine now, but in his childhood, Daedire had been frail.
He was prone to fevers and often collapsed from illness.
Such a condition was rare in a prestigious martial family, and so the child grew up under the concerned scrutiny of many.
Fortunately, Daedire grew stronger as he aged, eventually developing the robust physique of a true warrior. His talent for swordsmanship was undeniable.
Yet, his family never let go of their worries.
Even after he received his knighthood, they refused to let him join a knightly order.
That was why—
"If you are of the Crimson ducal bloodline, you must be trustworthy. Despite your family’s concerns, your skills are more than sufficient. So, what do you say? Would you serve under me, Sir Crimson?"
He had not refused the Crown Prince’s offer.
It was an impulsive decision, but it suited him.
He had grown tired of people fussing over him, and pretending to be oblivious had helped immensely.
Though he was aware he was deceiving those around him, he also knew that if he acted the way they expected, he would be caged for the rest of his life.
The only person he ever felt guilty toward was Julian Minerva.
His childhood friend had never treated him like a sickly invalid. No matter what he did, Julian had always cheered him on.
Though something had felt off when they attended the academy, he had dismissed it as a temporary phase.
That illusion shattered when she began investigating the Black Serpent case.
Before long, Daedire discovered that Julian had become a pawn for them.
And yet, there was nothing he could do.
The cult was too powerful to oppose—not that it would have made a difference even if they weren’t.
He lacked the resolve.
[I underestimated this too much.]
Daedire Crimson realized he had taken his work as a secret investigator far too lightly.
He would resign.
As soon as this ball was over, he would request a private audience with the Crown Prince and put an end to it.
And along with it, he would confess his own sins.
"Sir Crimson? You seem to be alone tonight!"
As soon as he stepped into the ballroom, someone greeted him.
The hall was already crowded with guests.
Daedire returned the greetings with minimal effort, his gaze sweeping the venue almost unconsciously.
That was when he locked eyes with Julian, who had arrived earlier.
"Ah."
Before he could say anything, Julian averted his gaze.
[I suppose it can’t be helped.]
Daedire smiled bitterly.
Instead of seeking Julian out, he took a glass of wine from a passing servant.
At that moment, the imperial family made their entrance.
The nobles in the ballroom immediately bowed in deference to their sovereign.
"It is not a particularly grand birthday, but I see you have all gathered nonetheless. Allow me to first express my gratitude."
The heavy voice carried through the air, laden with the dignity of a ruler who had governed the empire for decades.
No one dared to interrupt the solemn atmosphere, as the air was thick with a monarch’s—
"Now then, before you all snap in half under that weight, straighten up—"
"Your Majesty, I must speak!"
...What?
A high-pitched voice brazenly cut off the Emperor.
The crowd gasped, cautiously lifting their heads.
Of course, it was only possible because the Emperor had just permitted them to rise.
A woman in a blue dress was kneeling before the Emperor, dangerously close to him.
[Where were the knights?]
Daedire turned toward the imperial guards, only to find them frozen in place, rigid as stone.
Magic.
And in a ballroom where even capable mages wouldn’t dare wield their powers so recklessly, there were few who could—
Daedire and several others instinctively shifted their gazes toward a certain man.
Standing there, smiling as if he saw no issue at all—Cruello D. White Desert.
[Which means that woman is—!]
Daedire’s eyes darted back to the one kneeling before the Emperor.
Just as he did, the woman lifted her head.
Yet, her face was not what he had expected.
Brown hair, unremarkable features.
But the confusion lasted only a moment.
"I beg for a chance to speak, even if it costs me my life!"
A transformation spell must have been in place, because her face shifted instantly.
Her forehead rounded slightly, her nose curved into an elegant slope, and her jewel-like eyes gleamed with striking brilliance.
Even in such a situation, Daedire found himself admiring the sight.
If only for a fleeting moment.
[Why is Siora Bonetti here?]
Was she trying to use the Emperor to evade her ecclesiastical trial?
Interest flickered in Daedire’s gaze.
He tilted his glass, sipping a mouthful of wine—
"My master, Marquis Somon, is innocent!"
—only to spit it right back out.
Plan A: "Who said you were the only one allowed to play tricks?"
Rumor had it that the Emperor was a man of few words, one who rarely interrupted others, found amusement in Cruello’s madness, and held a grudge against the temple.
And right now, he was exactly the kind of person she needed.
What did imperial authority matter in this moment?
Courage was everything! Not my body, not my problem!
While the nobles stood in stunned silence, I pressed on.
"If you still wish to take my head after hearing my story, then behead me here and now!"
Of course, this head wasn’t going anywhere.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
[Would I really die, even if things went south?]
Cruello would surely whisk me away before that happened.
"You claim innocence not for yourself, but for another... Now, that is interesting."
"Y-Your Majesty, such words cannot be allowed! You know the temple has already scheduled the ecclesiastical trial!"
"This person must be imprisoned immediately—"
"Enough."
The protests were swiftly silenced.
Bringing up the temple at a time like this... They knew even less about the Emperor than I did.
A middle-aged man furrowed his brows in displeasure, though he did not raise his voice.
"I have yet to receive my birthday gifts from you all. As a present, I wish to hear this entertaining story."
And with that, he tilted his chin in amusement.
Good.
"Marquis Somon... You must be referring to the one whose granddaughter, Nigellia White Desert, accused him of crimes?"
"That is correct."
"And by claiming his innocence, you mean to say he was not part of Black Serpent?"
"No. He held a high-ranking position within Black Serpent and was a skilled necromancer."
"Then what part of this is innocent?"
"People may commit crimes, but they [N O V E L I G H T] can also seek redemption. He intended to betray Black Serpent."
In a way, eliminating the cult was a betrayal, wasn’t it?
To ensure my words didn’t seem empty, I produced a piece of evidence.
It came from Cruello—specifically, a memory orb.
[You are right. I want to cleanse Black Serpent completely.]
Of course, Cruello had created the orb himself.
It was originally meant to sow discord among the Elder Council, but in a sense, that was exactly what I was doing now.
"He lived his entire life as a necromancer, but he regretted that path."
I struck my chest dramatically, as if performing on stage.
"He told me himself—Black Serpent must be dismantled! A horde of evil! But the organization was too vast and powerful. He could not dismantle it alone."
"And so he sought help from an outsider. Of all people, the fiancée of the duke from his own faction?"
Oh? So the Emperor knew the Elder Council was in league with Black Serpent?
I supposed it wasn’t surprising.
[Fate had made him seem like a mere background character, but he was still the Emperor.
No use dwelling on it—better to keep going.
"I was nothing more than a decoy. His greatest concern was that he would be assassinated before completing his mission. He also warned me to be wary of those closest to him."
I deliberately paused to let that thought sink in.
At this point, who would come to mind as someone close to Nigellia?
The guests filled in the blanks themselves.
It was better to let them reach the conclusion on their own—people trust answers they arrive at themselves.
Then, in a sorrowful voice, I delivered the final blow.
"I suspect his disappearance was caused by his own granddaughter."
Suspect, not confirm.
I had left myself an escape route.
"The last order my master gave me was to seek out the imperial secret investigator and monitor their movements. He said he would handle the rest himself."
The investigator was bound by an Oath Chain and wouldn’t testify, but the Emperor knew that investigator had survived.
As long as my claim sounded plausible to him, that was all that mattered.
"And just as he predicted, I recently received word that the temple’s headquarters had fallen."
"You infiltrated the temple under disguise? Interesting. Then how do you plan to refute the testimony of the convict, Hans?"
So he even remembered Hans’ name. The Emperor must have been keeping a close eye on this case.
I shrugged, confidence unwavering.
"I have evidence for that as well."
I pulled out a second memory orb.
This one came from Julian Minerva—Cruello had pried it out of him.
[You’re Hans?]
The voice in the recording was undoubtedly Julian’s, but with the enchantment masking its tone, it was impossible to recognize.
Not that it mattered.
The only important part was the young man reflected in the orb—Hans, the arsonist responsible for the Velvet estate fire.
Julian had handled menial tasks for the Elder Council, which included securing Hans.
Knowing his temperament, he wouldn’t have blindly obeyed their orders.
I had assumed he would leave himself some leverage.
If he hadn’t, I would have dragged him to testify myself—but thankfully, the memory orb saved us both the trouble.
[There’s no point wasting time with formalities. You don’t want to be executed, do you?]
[...]
[If you provide a single testimony, I can spare your life at my discretion. It’s not a bad deal for you.]
Hans’ eyes wavered violently.
[There’s still a Velvet alive, isn’t there?]
[What...?]
[Testify that Siora Velvet is a dark sorcerer. Claim she hypnotized you into setting the mansion on fire. If you do, your sentence will be reduced.]
The whispered words were like a devil’s temptation.
[Then you get to live.]
The memory orb came to an end.