Emma’s smirk lingered, sly and deliberate, as though she had been waiting for Alice to ask that very question.
"Change the terms, you say?" Alice’s voice was level, but her eyes sharpened.
Emma tapped the closed fan against her palm, her every movement measured. "Why, of course. Information alone feels... insufficient now. If I were to help you devise a way to capture him, that is far more valuable than passing along dusty files and scraps of rumor."
Alice tilted her head slightly, feigning indifference though her pulse quickened. "And what do you want in return this time?"
Emma stepped closer, the candlelight catching in her cold blue eyes. "A seat at the table. When Faceless Imposter is finally in your grasp, I want to be there. Not afterward, not through second-hand reports. I want to see his capture with my own eyes."
Alice’s lips parted, then pressed into a faint smile. "So you want to witness his humiliation firsthand. How fitting for a Voss."
"Call it what you like," Emma said smoothly. "But seeing is believing, and I do not put my family’s name on shadows and hearsay. If we are to tie our prestige to this capture, then I must be certain. I want to watch him fall."
Silence followed, thick and taut, broken only by the faint pop of a log in the fireplace.
Alice leaned back in her chair, fingers tracing the carved armrest. "You understand what you’re asking. His capture will not be some staged performance for your satisfaction. It will be dangerous. Messy. A demon does not bow quietly."
Emma’s smile widened just enough to show she relished the idea. "Danger is nothing new to me, Lady Draken. Besides, if you truly mean what you say—if he is already yours—then what danger is there in letting me watch?"
The remark was a deliberate taunt, but Alice did not rise to it. Instead, her eyes glinted like cold steel. "Very well. You may watch. But remember this, Emma: you will not interfere. The moment you try to seize what is mine, the alliance ends."
Emma chuckled softly, tilting her head in mock surrender. "Agreed. I only want to see the face of the man who thought himself clever enough to humiliate two duchies. That is prize enough for me."
Alice’s gaze lingered on her, sharp and assessing, before she finally nodded. "...Then the terms are changed. You’ll advise me on how to draw him out. And when the time comes, you’ll stand as a witness to his downfall."
Emma’s fan flicked open once more, snapping in the air like a judge’s gavel. "A deal, then."
Their eyes met, two predators circling in a cage of courtesy.
But as Emma’s smile smoothed back into aristocratic grace, Alice could not shake the thought echoing in her chest.
If you wanted to capture him, how would you do it?
And when Emma finally answered that question, Alice knew the real hunt would begin.
"So, start telling me by his appearance for now."
"It’s really meaningless. It’s physical appearance that if guy of 17-18 years old but his face? White as sheet. No eyes, No nose, no mouth, nothing at all. But the faceless imposter can change his face at will, any face."
Emma’s fan stilled mid-sweep, the feathered edge brushing against her chin as she studied Alice with open intrigue.
"No eyes, no nose, no mouth?" Her tone was incredulous, but not mocking—curious, almost hungry. "A blank mask of flesh that shifts into whatever he wishes... Hah. No wonder he’s been a nightmare to track."
Alice’s nails tapped against the table, slow and steady, each strike echoing her contained fury. "It isn’t just a disguise. It’s a violation. To stare into that face—it feels like you’re staring into a void that stares back."
Emma’s lips curved, but this time the smile held no amusement, only calculation. "A demon indeed. No ordinary thief could wield such an ability. It makes him far more dangerous—and far more... fascinating."
Her gaze sharpened. "Tell me, Lady Draken, when he wore that faceless mask before you, did you feel fear?"
Alice’s breath stilled for a heartbeat. The memory of cold steel pressed against her skin, of that blank void hovering over her, returned in full. Her chest burned with the humiliation of being spared. Fear? Yes. But more than that—shame.
Her voice came out low and sharp, like a knife sliding free of its sheath. "Fear is fleeting. What lingers is the humiliation of letting him walk away alive."
Emma hummed in approval, the sound both approving and unsettling. "Then we are aligned. His face—or lack thereof—will be his downfall. A demon that prides himself on masks... must be unmasked before all."
Alice’s eyes glimmered, reflecting the candlelight like shards of ice.
"So, do you truly believe you can uncover him?"
Emma’s smile was confident, almost arrogant.
"Haa, do you even need to ask? I am Emma Voss. The Voss family has made a tradition of hunting criminals. Demon or not—it makes no difference."
The certainty in her tone wasn’t born from arrogance alone, but from experience. Alice could hear it.
Emma leaned back, tapping the folded newspaper in her hand. "Profiling. That’s where it starts."
Alice tilted her head slightly. "Profiling?"
"A discipline that grew in the West. You take what little scraps of information you have and reconstruct the criminal’s identity." Emma’s eyes gleamed as though she were teaching a child. "And it happens to be my specialty."
She tapped the paper with her fan, the headline about the Phantom Thief crinkling under her touch.
"Associates with the Phantom Thief. That already tells us much."
Alice arched a brow. "Oh? And what does it tell us?"
"That he isn’t local." Emma’s voice carried a razor’s edge of certainty. "The Phantom Thief has always worked alone. Always. And yet suddenly, here in the North, he shows up with a companion?"
Alice fell silent. The implication was clear enough.
Emma’s smile widened. "Exactly. The Faceless Imposter must be from the West. Someone who came here recently."
Alice’s fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of her chair. West. Outsider. A servant’s face suddenly flickered in her mind—his sly grin, the way he always managed to slip out of trouble unscathed.
Her brows trembled before she quickly schooled her expression.
Emma, of course, noticed. Those sharp eyes missed nothing.
"What’s this? You thought of someone, didn’t you?"
Alice gave a small, dismissive laugh, brushing her hair back. "No. Just a passing thought. Don’t mind me. Continue."
Emma let it go—for now—but the corner of her mouth quirked knowingly.
Meanwhile, Alice’s thoughts spun faster than she would admit. Julies. Of all people? A mere servant of the Draken family. The idea was absurd, insulting even. Why would he stoop to thievery? Why would he risk everything in a game of masks and shadows?
...And more than that.
Was he truly a demon?
The very notion made her stomach twist.
Alice’s nails dug faintly into the carved wood of the armrest, the smooth surface cool against her tightening grip.
Her mind refused to release the image that surfaced so easily—Julies, slipping past the other servants with a lazy smile, speaking just enough to stay unnoticed yet always with an edge of knowing more than he should.
No. Impossible.
The thought felt like poison on her tongue. He was just a servant, her servant, bound by duty and rank. To think he could be the Faceless Imposter—the demon who had humiliated her—was not only ridiculous, it was offensive.
And yet.
That night replayed in her head in flashes she wished she could banish: the dagger’s edge cold against her skin, the blank, shifting void of a face hovering too close, the humiliating mercy she never asked for.
"...Lady Draken?"
Emma’s voice cut through her storm of thoughts. Her gaze was sharp, hawklike, studying her with unsettling precision.
Alice forced a faint smile, the kind that revealed nothing. "Merely considering your theory. An outsider, yes. It makes sense."
Emma leaned forward slightly, her fan tapping against her knee. "Don’t dismiss it too quickly. The closer you are to him, the easier it will be for him to slip beneath your nose. That is the danger of demons—they thrive on blending into the lives of those who never suspect."
Alice’s smile tightened. Closer than anyone...?
Her mind betrayed her again, conjuring the sound of Julies’s voice—always insolent in tone, never quite deferential enough, as if he thought himself untouchable.
If Emma noticed the flicker in her eyes, she didn’t say. Instead, she flicked her fan open again, voice smooth and deliberate.
"The culprit is likely a noble, or someone close to one. The fact that he was never caught by the guards after the incident implies that he had prior access to the security plans. You said no collaborators were found in the investigation, right?"
However, as the speculation continued, the ominous feeling only grew.
----
Author Note:.
Thanks for the reading it.