APIBAGS Chapter 74

"He's recovered!"

Lady Toten raised her voice, unusually, and cut Gabriel off. Then she sent me a pleading look, and I quickly nodded along.

Gabriel had fallen for me at first sight—exception granted. Melek? Not a chance. Intent didn't matter. Helping Lady Toten didn't matter. Moving a corpse was not, by any reasonable standard, something a holy knight could overlook.

Lady Toten also didn't welcome visitors. Gabriel knew that well. If that was the case, he'd have no occasion to meet Melek, which meant there was no particular need to say anything.

Whether Gabriel genuinely hadn't caught on, or whether he was being considerate enough to pretend—I couldn't tell. Either way, he didn't press. But when our eyes met and he smiled—smoothly, nothing in it—a thought surfaced. Maybe he already knew.

Lady Toten and Gabriel stood there glancing at each other awkwardly, a brief silence hovering between them, when a knight in the same uniform as Gabriel stepped in and broke it.

"Commander, forgive the interruption—but we're required to inspect Lady Rohanson's and Lady Toten's belongings as well."

"Uriel."

It was the knight named Uriel who had escorted me at the temple before.

So Gabriel's order had sent support for the event, and they were also handling the bag checks before guests entered the banquet hall. Well, it made sense. This was the Crown Prince's birthday banquet, of all things, so the security would naturally be thorough. Given the historical context, assassination attempts weren't out of the question. And most of the attendees today had brought birthday gifts for the Crown Prince, which would need to be verified too.

"Pardon me, Lady Rohanson. You look truly beautiful today."

Uriel delivered the compliment with the expression of a person who would not flinch if stabbed. I was looking rather good today—but who delivers a compliment like that? Flat. No rise, no fall. Like something drilled in by rote.

Come to think of it, knights were genuinely in the service industry. Their main income came from selling holy water to nobles—at that point weren't they just a premium bottled-water operation? Was that too irreverent a thought? Yeah, no. I was a possessor, so it was fine.

Lady Toten and I were checked by Uriel—same gender, a quick once-over, nothing intrusive. During that time, Gabriel had turned and was looking the other way. All that outrageous flirting, and here he was unexpectedly prim about this sort of thing....

I glanced around. The other nobles were all cooperating without complaint. You'd think at least one of them would kick up a scene—'How dare you suspect me, I'm innocent'—but everyone behaved. Oh. Maybe the aggro-pulling villain role was originally Evangeline's assignment for tonight.

"Commander, all clear."

Uriel called Gabriel over to report the inspection was done.

"No weapons on you?"

Uriel said it with what sounded, faintly, like disappointment. Why the letdown? Were you hoping I'd have something? Well. In that case I'd have to oblige.

"Actually, there is a weapon."

"I beg your pardon?"

I said it in a teasing, scheming sort of way—and Uriel, caught off guard by the mention of a weapon, repeated herself in alarm. I, thoroughly warmed up to this villainess bit, said nothing, simply raised a hand and pointed past her. Behind her, the knights were in the middle of opening and inspecting the gifts to be presented to the Crown Prince. One of them lifted open the elegant box Henna had packed—and out came an ornate sword.

"A... a sword?"

The knight who'd opened it stared at it and began fumbling badly.

"Commander, what do we do with this—"

He looked up to report to his superior, then saw me standing close beside Gabriel, and his eyes went into full pupil-earthquake, darting between the two of us. It was plainly visible on his face—he needed to brief his commander, but his commander was my escort. What do I do with this. He kept looking between us.

"Her ladyship was joking. It's decorative—no blade—so there won't be any issue bringing it in."

Gabriel smoothly covered for me. I did my best smile and nodded.

"Is—is that so? I'll draw it to verify."

The knight checked my expression, took a steadying breath, and drew the sword. As Gabriel had described, the sword had no blade—just a hilt and a scabbard. The knight let out a long, relieved exhale upon confirming the empty blade space, then placed it back into the box.

"Yes. No issue, as you said. Lady Toten's belongings as well."

Lady Toten had brought an elegant set of cufflinks as her gift for the Crown Prince. Accessories like that were apparently the safest, most uncontroversial choice.

For my part, the Count had brought the sword along and suggested it would make a fitting gift, and since I couldn't be bothered preparing something separately, I'd simply brought it. It was a relic from a kingdom that had fallen long before the empire was founded—no blade, and with genuine historical value as an artifact, so I'd thought it an appropriate enough present without any awkward implications. I'd checked with Gabriel ahead of time to make sure, so it had already passed a preliminary review.

"Did that give you a fright, Dame Uriel?"

"My heart did drop."

Uriel really was the pinnacle of a blank face. Who would believe someone with an expression that serene saying her heart dropped. The inspected gifts were then collected not by Henna but by an imperial attendant. Henna was to wait in the area designated for servants. Uriel volunteered to escort her, which was a relief.

"I'll go in ahead."

"Of course. I'll see you inside, Lady Toten."

A chaperone couldn't enter together with her charge, so Lady Toten stepped into the banquet hall first. The herald confirmed her name on the register and announced her arrival at full volume.

"Lady Kinder Toten of the Toten Marquessate!"

Oh—oh! So that's how it worked, announcing people as they entered? This was completely like a romance novel! Oh, right. I was inside a romance novel.

"Shall we go in now?"

It was apparently our turn. Gabriel hesitated, then extended his hand to escort me.

When I glanced slightly downward, his long, damp-looking lashes trembled faintly with the finest possible tremble. At first, with that practiced ease—some compliment about being like a star—I hadn't caught on. But sure enough: Gabriel had been particularly tense today. Was it because I'd dressed up? Full preparation done, and—sure enough—outrageously pretty. As expected of a villainess.

But it turned out that wasn't what Gabriel was nervous about.

"I know that being touched by me must be unpleasant—but you said you'd fall in with me, so I only ask that today, you bear with it."

The words came out as if weighted down. His fingertips trembled in faint echo of them.

I had thought he was nervous because he was filming his own romance—but it was nothing like that. Gabriel was simply being careful, remembering what I'd said and done. Because I'd asked him to get along with me as usual, he'd paid the compliment as he had before, acted as though nothing was wrong—but all the while he'd been holding back.

When we'd parted last time, I hadn't offered my hand at his farewell, and he'd apparently assumed from that, on his own, that he was unpleasant to me to touch.

Who on earth chipped away at this person's self-esteem! Right. I did. Seeing Gabriel approach with this level of self-deprecation, my conscience stung. He alone was already this much to manage, and yet people who ran their fishing grounds with octopus arms and played push-and-pull—what kind of conscience did they have? Running a fishing operation with all that push-and-pull is just exhausting....

"It isn't unpleasant. I told you I rather liked you."

I placed my hand over his and pressed, just slightly—the way you'd calm something. Honestly, it had only been a few days—it wasn't as if my feelings had undergone any dramatic transformation—but I had reflected, at least, that I'd been too harsh with Gabriel.

Gabriel looked back at me with a complicated expression. Right. You can't make sense of me either. But that's what fishing grounds management is—push and pull, keeping the distance calibrated. You'll just have to understand.

"Is it because I know my place?"

"Pardon?"

"No. It was nothing. Please don't mind it."

"Nothing," he says. Like hell it is! I wasn't some sunlit heroine—I was a villainess. Even small murmured asides came through crisp and unfiltered. Every single word. He had read his own position exactly, and done it too completely. Seeing his self-esteem crawling the floor, my conscience took the point.

Before I could figure out what to say—or whether offering comfort would simply be another form of deception—we had already crossed the threshold into the banquet hall.

"Lady Evangeline Rohanson of Rohanson County, and Sir Gabriel, Commander of the Pharalos Knights!"

The herald's announcement landed, and every gaze in that enormous hall jabbed into me—one after another, each one sharp. I had thought the Grand Temple was extravagant, but the palace was in a different category entirely.

Every surface had been worked with deliberate care—down to the smallest decorative motif on the walls, the investment of coin was simply beyond calculation. In one corner a chamber orchestra played, and servants moved throughout the hall offering wine.

The guests' attire was equally blinding. The crowd murmuring at our arrival wasn't my imagination—of course a combination like this would draw notice. A knight of spotless reputation alongside the villainess of the age.

It feels like being a spectacle. Everyone was whispering and staring, voices tangled under the music so I couldn't make out specific words.

"Quite noisy."

The moment I said it, the noise stopped. Someone in the crowd made a sound that might have been a hiccup.

"My lady."

Gabriel murmured a quiet word of caution. I had only offered a passing observation—I hadn't expected the whole room to go silent at it. Was this the reach of a villainess born for social dominance? Even idly remarking on the noise had apparently been enough. I was going to need to be far more careful about what I let out of my mouth.

"Evangeline! My daughter! You've finally arrived!"

A familiar man materialized from among the crowd and greeted me. The Count, who hadn't waited—who had just whooshed off on his own and was already gone.