Chapter 36
30 minutes earlier, in the mansion’s basement.
At Elses’ proposal, Astaire stared in shock and repeated incredulously,
“Set it on fire?”
Elses nodded calmly.
“That annex only has the count, his men, and that so-called ‘guest.’ No civilians would be harmed.”
Even Astaire had to admit—she was right. The chance of innocent casualties was minimal.
But still—burning down a building? That was an outrageous plan.
It wasn’t something Astaire could have imagined, much less suggested.
Yet since Elses spoke with such unshakable certainty, he decided to hear her out.
“And then what?”
Elses tilted her head slightly.
“If a person’s house suddenly caught on fire, what would they think of first, Your Grace?”
“Hmm… people from the temple, maybe?”
For Astaire, who had long severed ties with his family, the temple was his only home.
Valentin, listening beside them, suddenly chimed in,
“My mother.”
Elses smiled faintly.
“Exactly. Most people think of what’s most precious to them.”
That could be family for some, wealth for others.
Then she asked,
“So, among the things in the annex right now—what’s most precious to the count?”
If it were family, it would be his wife, but she was in the main mansion, not the annex.
The annex was technically part of his property, but most of his fortune would be kept elsewhere.
Astaire quickly caught on to what Elses was implying.
“…He’d try to bring out the shard.”
Elses grinned instead of answering, rising to her feet.
“It’s been a while since I played with fire. Let’s go.”
The two left Valentin hidden in the bushes beneath the estate wall and disguised themselves in black robes stolen from the mansion.
During that, Elses tied up a knight, stripped off her dress, and put on his uniform.
But since she couldn’t show her face, she couldn’t fully impersonate him.
Having infiltrated the mansion where the count resided, Elses and Astaire set fire to the third floor, then pretended to be black magicians approaching the drawing room on the first floor, where the count and his guest were.
Everything went as planned—until the count ordered Astaire to fetch Valentin.
To avoid arousing suspicion, Astaire had no choice but to pretend to obey and step out.
But there was another unexpected variable.
The masked man Elses had encountered earlier turned out to be the count’s guest.
And—he was trying to kill the count.
“I have to save him.”
Though Elses despised the count for killing children and brainwashing people, his death here would complicate Astaire’s position.
She lunged at the man.
“Sorry, but things won’t go your way.”
The man flinched at the sudden attack, then quickly conjured a magical barrier to block her strike.
Clang!
The shockwave from the impact rippled through the air.
Elses frowned at the jolt that traveled up her arm.
“Fast casting speed… He’s good.”
Casting magic required precise spatial calculations.
That meant spellcasting was generally slower than physical combat.
Yet this man had managed to defend himself at close range—without even blinking.
But because he focused on blocking her, the spell binding the count was broken.
The count, nearly at death’s door, collapsed and gasped desperately for air.
“Haa… haaa…”
Blocking another surge of magic, Elses shouted,
“If you don’t want to die, get up and run—now!”
The count staggered to his feet, but the next magic projectile slammed into Elses, throwing her against the wall.
Pain exploded through her body—so sharp she could barely breathe.
“Kugh…”
Before she could recover, the man’s magic wrapped around her again, this time even tighter.
“So he was holding back before.”
The pressure crushing her body was far stronger than earlier.
Holding her in place, the man extended a branch of his magic toward the fleeing count.
Just before the spell could strike, Elses tore through the bindings and threw herself between them.
For the first time, the man’s crimson eyes behind the mask wavered.
Only for a moment—then killing intent returned to their bloody glow.
He finally spoke.
“That man told me to kill you. You heard it, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“And yet you’re saving him?”
“Sure, I’d love to tear him limb from limb myself—but there are debts he still has to pay while alive.”
“…”
“This whole affair needs to be exposed. People need to see what your group is really doing.”
Her answer was so calm, so certain, that the man’s hostility faltered.
He studied her intently through the mask, as though trying to assess something.
Elses met his stare without flinching—and then she noticed something strange.
“His eyes… changed color?”
Earlier, outside, his eyes had been a mysterious shade of violet.
“Can a mage change their eye color while attacking?”
Unlikely.
Casting even one spell required immense concentration and rapid mental calculation.
Performing two spells simultaneously was impossible.
But more importantly—those eyes.
Red eyes symbolized royal blood and immense magical power.
The royal family, descended from a legendary archmage, produced one red-eyed heir each generation—the child born with the greatest power.
And in this generation, only one royal possessed such eyes—
Crown Prince Cedric.
“Then that man…”
Before she could finish the thought, the man spoke again.
“Is that really worth your life?”
“Maybe, maybe not. But it’ll save more lives. And besides—”
Elses lunged at him again.
“—I’m not planning on giving you mine.”
He calmly raised another barrier, deflecting her strike.
But that was exactly what she was waiting for.
She darted past him, snatching up the black dimensional shard that had fallen behind him.
Realizing too late that her attack had been a feint, the man’s eyes narrowed.
Several orbs of magic shot toward her.
Elses dodged them all, proving that she’d only been hit earlier because she’d protected the count.
Then she counterattacked—
but the man caught her fist mid-swing.
It was a blow strong enough to crush bone, yet his hand didn’t even twitch.
He’d instantly generated a small barrier around his palm.
But Elses froze—not because of that, but because something about his touch felt… familiar.
“This hand… why does it feel like I’ve felt it before?”
Time seemed to slow as she tried to pull free.
Behind the mask, his crimson eyes watched her, and he murmured—
“You…”
Before he could finish, a golden barrier flared between them.
“My lady!”
Both turned toward the voice—Astaire was entering through the front doors.
Seeing him, the masked man immediately stepped back and teleported away.
Elses, staring at the fading magic circle and those vanishing red eyes, snapped out of it only when Astaire spoke.
“Are you all right, my lady? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“…I’m sorry. I should’ve come sooner.”
He saw the damage to her robe and quickly cast a healing spell.
Elses suddenly remembered something more important and grabbed his arm.
“The count—where is he?”
“Outside. He’s still out cold from the shock.”
Elses pulled her hood back up.
The count hadn’t seen her face earlier while fleeing, but if he recognized her now, that would be a problem.
After finishing the healing, they stepped outside together.
Waiting for them were several knights—
with their swords drawn.
At their center stood Count Lort.
“Hand over the shard,” he said coldly. “Do that, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”
Elses gave a hollow laugh.
“Never help a black-hearted beast.”
Then again, the man was bald—so maybe she should say “headless beast.”
Astaire tilted his head slightly, his tone turning icy.
“Killing the Holy Kingdom’s cardinal would be… troublesome for you.”
“As if it matters! If I’m caught by you people, I’ll die either way!”
At his shout, four knights rushed them at once.
The count used the chaos to turn and run.
He never expected to win—he just needed a distraction.
“That man fought evenly with the masked one… A few knights won’t stop him. But they’ll buy me time.”
Elses gritted her teeth.
“That bastard…!”
She disarmed one knight and met the others head-on.
Astaire, too, seized a sword from an opponent and joined in.
Back in their adventuring days, Luel had insisted that everyone learn swordsmanship—
especially Astaire, who lacked offensive skills, and Rasiel, who struggled in close combat.
Luel himself trained alongside them, so even after three years, the muscle memory remained.
Then—out of nowhere—a man charged Elses from her side, sword raised.
“Die!”
He was the count’s last hidden guard.
But “last resort” was an overstatement.
Elses easily dodged and cut him down in a single motion.
No one else blocked her way.
She lifted her head—and there he was, Count Lort, fleeing into the moonlight.
A cold smile curved her lips.
“Body enhancement.”
In an instant, she blurred forward, blocking his path.
“H-hiiik!”
The trembling count froze as Elses leveled her blood-stained sword at his thick neck.
“Looks like you’ve sobered up now that you’re trying something stupid.”
The blade pressed deep enough to draw blood.
The count swallowed hard, eyes wide with fear, staring at the woman before him.
Under the pale moonlight, her crimson lips curved beneath the shadow of her hood.
“Now then,” she said coldly,
“you’ll come quietly.”
