MB Chapter 27

"Lord Alte is famous as a prodigy knight, after all. His heir's education is excellent, and his swordsmanship earns him the admiration of knights everywhere—no one could reasonably call him less capable than Lady Prityl."

By Entzi Bethelgius's standards, ninety-nine percent of the world's population qualified as incompetent, so this was not a statement that particularly rang true to him. With a philosophical expression, he made his best effort at accommodation.

"A public reputation isn't the same as genuine character."

"And this has nothing to do with me—but something was said about you. The rumors circulating in certain circles have grown rather pointed, and I believe you should address them. Shall I tell you?"

Rumors about him are more or less all the same, really. Since Kolave relayed anything politically damaging, Entzi nodded without much thought.

But when Goiyo's lips parted and speculation about his sexual preferences began to flow forth, Entzi found it increasingly difficult to maintain a composed expression.

A brief silence settled after she finished.

"...So. What did you say?"

"Well, we had kissed—so I defended you by saying you weren't gay."

"'Well, we had kissed'? 'Defended'...?"

"I don't know your private affairs, so I couldn't very well make definitive claims."

Is she teasing me, he wondered—but however closely he studied his wife's face, Goiyo Bethelgius looked as unhurried and placid as ever. There was no laughter in those almond-shaped eyes. The fine line of her mouth did not curve.

If anything, Goiyo appeared to sincerely believe there might be some truth to it.

Entzi's lips twitched faintly. They had kissed more than once. How could she still be entertaining that possibility?

Those brown eyes, which managed somehow to look almost innocent, struck him as irritating for the first time—and so Entzi drew the corners of his mouth up into a slow smile.

"Then I'll have to make you certain."

One hand gripped the back of the chair where Goiyo sat. The other cupped her pale face. And like that, he pressed his lips to hers.

Into the gap of her startled mouth, his breath slipped in—deep and intimate, suffused with warmth. At the closeness of him, at the scent, Goiyo's hands flew reflexively to his shoulders and held on.

As the heat between them lengthened, breath became difficult to bear, and the pallor of her face bloomed gradually into crimson.

She could draw thin threads of air through her nose—but even those grew insufficient, sparse, until the shallow inhales could no longer sustain her.

In the end, it was only when the hands clutching his shoulders finally moved to push him back that the seal of their lips broke apart.

Goiyo drew in breath sharply. The air coming deep into her lungs felt strangely cold, which made what had just occurred feel all the more indecent.

'This is nothing like last time.'

Could one have talent even for something like this.

Her brow pinched slightly as she recovered herself. Looking at her, Entzi laughed. His own face was flushed with color—but his breathing remained composed, so the warmth in his complexion was far more muted than hers.

"Do you still not know?"

"...We kissed before, too. You didn't need to force yourself to prove anything."

Force himself... What on earth did his wife think of him.

That dull, universal truth that trust is important in marriage—Entzi felt it with sudden, unwelcome freshness.

"I don't force myself, Goiyo. The mere thought of kissing Kolave is enough to make me bring up everything I ate three days ago—"

Three days ago and more.

The sentence died in his throat. Something fell.

Husband and wife turned their heads in unison to find a face frozen in shock. It was Kolave Peroto, with his drooping eyes and his faintly raccoon-like air.

Kolave's eyes met Entzi's. He clapped both hands over his own mouth and began backing away.

"I beg your pardon!"

He snatched up the documents he'd dropped and departed at something very close to a sprint.

Watching him go, Entzi smiled—cold and clean.

'The day to wring his neck has come.'

"I think he may have misunderstood—"

"He did that deliberately. He's always watching for any opportunity to turn my stomach. Lately, I'm not entirely certain who the superior is between us."

"Ah. You and Viscount Peroto do get on so well."

"...Is today Kolave Peroto Day? I feel as though I've been made a fool of since morning."

She had only said they got on well, and he called it being made a fool of. Goiyo studied him with mild perplexity, then found a new subject to pivot toward.

"You have lipstick on you, Entzi."

Following her gaze, Entzi knew at once where the cosmetic had transferred. But instead of wiping it away, he feigned ignorance.

"Where?"

"It's smeared below your lip."

"Here?"

"No—to the left. A little further—you've gone too far."

As Entzi's finger continued pressing all the wrong spots, Goiyo grew impatient and raised her own hand to point at exactly where the lipstick had spread. In that same instant, Entzi caught her hand and drew it toward his mouth.

Peck. Something soft touched the inside of her palm, and Goiyo snatched her hand back in surprise.

Smiling at her flustered expression, Entzi pressed his own thumb to the corner of his mouth and wiped the mark away himself.

"Taken care of, thanks to you, my lady."

Watching his now-clean mouth, Goiyo understood that she had been tricked again.

Entzi had been sitting in his study, doing nothing but watching the door. When it finally opened, he smiled.

"Down on your face, Kolave."

Whether or not to obey a superior's order was beside the point—Kolave hadn't even had time to assess the situation before his body, which remembered the battlefield, had already dropped face-down to the floor.

"Don't show your face to me until my irritation has passed."

"...Could you not consider my irritation, just this once?"

"Knowing when to keep your mouth shut when the answer is no—that is a virtue."

He really is petty. His stomach must be the size of a walnut, Kolave muttered inwardly.

"The matter's already on record at this point. If the lawsuit doesn't proceed, it will reflect poorly on the madam's honor."

"No need to go that far. It'll all come out in the wash eventually—"

"Do you think I'm willing to overlook the fact that you hinted to Goiyo about a rumor linking the two of us in that way?"

"'The Marquess and I' in that way... Ah. So that's what the conversation earlier was about."

He had laughed once or twice at the rumor about the asexual tendencies and the homosexuality—but a rumor that tangled himself in it was something he was hearing for the first time. Kolave's expression cooled.

Their emphases differed slightly, but lord and subordinate had arrived at the same destination: righteous fury.

"Indeed. At this point, a lawsuit filed in earnest is the only thing that will restore the Marquess's dignity."

"And Goiyo's."

"...Yes. And my lady's dignity."

Even having resolved to proceed, the aftertaste was disagreeable.

Entzi briefly considered disposing of Prityl entirely, then shook his head. The timing was wrong.

Wealthy on the surface but without solid foundations—a newly-rich upstart. Promising but still unproven—a fresh face not yet worth watching closely. Named as the potential next figurehead of the conservative faction, but not yet grown enough to warrant genuine wariness. A half-grown chicken. That was all Entzi Bethelgius needed to appear to be, for now.

A half-grown chicken that seemed useful but not dangerous—one that would gnaw at the heart of its enemies while appearing perfectly harmless. Until that moment came, he could not afford to reveal what lay beneath the surface.

To move against Prityl Marquess—a stalwart of the conservative faction—would send his threat level soaring overnight.

The Duke of Rubiette already occasionally cast measuring glances in his direction. To let a trifle goad him into provoking real suspicion would not do.

'That said, I can't let myself be underestimated either. For now, Renier will suffice.'

Conclusion reached, Entzi gripped the arm of his chair in a foul mood. The armrest buckled instantly—shapeless.

"Why did you come earlier? Surely not purely to mock me. Or was it a death wish?"

"Please don't say such dreadful things. It was a report on Marchel. I'd held off on delivering it since my lady was present."

"You've tracked her down quickly. Good. Enough of playing the groveling dog—up. Stand straight and report properly."

How this man can invest such exquisite effort into irritating someone with every single word. Grinding his teeth in silent restraint, Kolave rose from the floor.

He retrieved from the ground the documents he'd brought in and passed the folder to Entzi.

"We've secured testimony of a gray-haired woman spotted at Porsendo Harbor. Investigating on the basis of those accounts, we confirmed that the woman seen in the company of a local broker was indeed Marchel.

She settled through the broker in a small town in Albré, then her trail went cold—but we confirmed she found another broker and had her face altered. The last confirmed sighting was in Rudban. And Rudban has..."

"Portal spots set up by brokers. The crown jewel of illegal border-crossing—a grand gate that spans nations."

Meaning.

"Her whereabouts after that have not yet been secured. However, it is said that the portal the unidentified woman boarded branches in three directions: Lorante, Arogen, and Solaris."

"She came back here?"

"There would be a reason for passing up the closer portals to Lorante and Arogen and deliberately seeking out the more distant one. I believe as much."

Did she hide beneath the dragon's wings—or was even that a misdirection?

Entzi stopped himself from going deeper and smiled thinly.

She wasn't that clever a piece of trash.

"Mobilize every intelligence network within Solaris and search. Secure the identity of the broker who made the connection."

He skimmed the documents one final time and returned the folder to Kolave.

One more thing.

"Count Eliom—confirmed he was dealt with?"

"Staged as a suicide. The body was rendered unidentifiable in a fire made to appear accidental, so there will be no complications going forward."

"No complications... Kolave, do you know who came to the estate today?"

Kolave saw the thin curve of his superior's smile and knew what was coming. He himself had felt something suspicious the moment he'd learned the name of the guest Goiyo had brought home—he couldn't imagine Entzi would be any different.

"When investigating Count Eliom, we confirmed that he and his children had no contact with each other."

"Then you're genuinely suggesting that Razine Eliom happened to attend the same tea party as Goiyo, happened to witness a display of magic, and approached her in a fit of childlike excitement—entirely by coincidence?"

"She is known to have attended Bermus tea parties on prior occasions. I was unable to confirm the matter regarding the magic, so I will investigate again."

"Bring it to me within two days."

Two days... Face quietly decomposing, Kolave said: yes.

His subordinate's overtime being none of his concern, Entzi left that decaying expression to its own fate and sank into thought.

Elegant fingers tapped at the warped armrest. The face of Razine Eliom surfaced, dim at the edges.

"She is actually a woman? You're certain?"

"Hm? Yes—confirmed."

"Not a man dressed as a woman?"

"If it were a man dressed as a woman, wouldn't they wear something more conventional? Dressing in that ambiguous uniform where you can't tell one way or the other is a bit—though if the concept were a woman dressed as a man, that would be different. A man dressed as a woman, passing as a woman dressed as a man—so that would make it male in female disguise in male... man? Woman?"

"Try parting ways with your stupidity. It's long overdue."

Kolave responded to the naked contempt—the tongue-click, the withering regard—with an eloquent expression of his own.

"But why do you ask? Are you, by any chance—jealous?"

Entzi said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow in cool displeasure—but his subordinate had inherited something of his superior's constitution, and refused to restrain himself even before that corroded expression.

"I know the Marquess is a perfectionist, but thinking about it—that behavior doesn't quite fit a perfectionist, does it? All the little flirtations, the kissing at every opportunity. If anyone saw you, they'd think you were either besotted or performing. Given your image, my lord..."

"What is it you're trying to say."

"Do you like my lady?"

"You've finally lost your mind."

The voice was cold—not a trace of warmth—but Kolave was undeterred.

"I myself have never had the honor of meeting Lady Chloe, but I've heard that after that promise was made, the Marquess's expression resembled decomposing mold. Surely it can't be pure obligation from the oath—not with all that tenderness."

"Stop the delusions. It's affection. That's all there is to it. Come back to reality."

"Affection...?"

"Yes. The same affection I have for Lukurue. When the time comes, it will be severed—so kindly mind your own affairs and close your mouth."

"Oh, I hadn't realized the Marquess held the butler in such ardent regard. Could it be that you also wish to—to kiss Lukurue?"

He tried to make allowances. He truly did. But his subordinate possessed an uncanny talent for rendering allowances quite impossible.

He wanted to resort to physical harm—but Kolave had much to do, so Entzi chose a more temperate method. Smiling pleasantly, he reached into his breast pocket and produced a white envelope.

"Kolave. Do you know what this is?"

"Hm? What is it?"

"Until a moment ago, it was your bonus."

Kolave's instincts screamed and his hand shot out—but before his fingers could connect, Entzi tore the envelope apart in two clean strokes.

"Ta-da. Gone."

"No—!"

Yes.

Watching Kolave stand there in blank devastation, Entzi set the scraps alight and incinerated them entirely.

And so it remained known only to Entzi that the envelope had contained not money, but meaningless scraps of paper.

He smiled warmly at his foolish subordinate, and left the study.