Emma 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.
’Julies is also an noble a baron level noble from west.’
Not anyone can become attantendent of Alice Draken, the first requirement is that they must be a noble no matter what.
...And Julies Evans is nobel, a very lower one but noble is noble no matter what level they’re.
Alice’s hand drifted to the edge of her dress, fingers tightening ever so slightly on the fabric.
Julies Evans. A baron’s son from the western frontier. Too lowly for her circles, yet just high enough to meet the bare minimum requirement to serve in her household. That was the official story.
But Alice had always found it odd—how easily he adapted to the Draken estate, how naturally he maneuvered around the rigid hierarchy of servants. He never bowed too low, never stumbled with the etiquette drilled into lesser nobles. Instead, he carried himself with a strange ease, as if the role of an attendant was simply another mask he wore.
Emma’s words echoed in her mind.
Closer than anyone... that’s how demons slip by.
Alice forced her expression into perfect neutrality. She could not afford to let suspicion—especially toward her own household—slip past her lips.
"...I’ll keep your theory in mind," she said evenly.
Emma’s smile deepened, her fan brushing lightly against her cheek. "Do more than that, Lady Draken. The picture is becoming clear. The North isn’t quick to accept outsiders, yet someone clearly has access to delicate information. That suggests one of two things—a prospective marriage tie, or someone working in as a servant... perhaps even a maid."
Her words cut sharper than her smile.
Alice’s heartbeat quickened, but she didn’t flinch. "Lady Voss, do you know of a man named Julies Evans?"
Emma tilted her head. "Julies Evans...? The surname implies some noble lineage, but I’ve never once heard of him."
That couldn’t be.
The man who had crossed blades with her twice.
It was humiliating to admit, but Alice was considered a prodigy in the North—hailed as the Treasure of the North. And yet, this man had met her blows without faltering. To think he remained unknown, unrecognized in his own western lands...?
’Would he really be dismissed simply because he came from the lowly Evans line?’
No—impossible.
With strength like his, he should be known anywhere, whether in the West or beyond. Martial power wasn’t just respected—it was a currency among the nobility. No one with such skill would go unnoticed.
"...Did he suddenly grow stronger after arriving in the North? Or has he been hiding his true ability all this time, waiting for the right moment to reveal it?"
Emma arched a brow. "What are you mumbling about?"
Alice barely heard her. Her thoughts unraveled in a tangle of unease.
Perhaps she had grown too close to him—receiving his aid, sparring with him, even relying on him when no one else was there. Perhaps that closeness had blinded her to his true nature.
Her mind flashed back to that night—the Faceless Imposter, parrying her blade as easily as one might brush aside a falling leaf. His movements had been too natural, too effortless.
And Julies... Julies was the only one she knew who could receive her strikes without wavering.
Her fingers curled against her gown. Was I blind from the very start?
"Lady Draken!" Emma’s sharp tone pulled her back.
Alice blinked and straightened, forcing composure back into her voice. "...Forgive me. My thoughts wandered."
Emma snapped her fan shut with a crisp clack, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"You drifted the moment I mentioned servants. Don’t tell me, Lady Draken... you already have someone in mind?"
Alice’s throat tightened, but her face betrayed nothing. "I am simply weighing possibilities. Nothing more."
"Mm." Emma leaned back, studying her as though Alice were another piece in a game of strategy. "I’ve seen that look before. You’re hiding a name. Someone you trust, perhaps? Someone who shouldn’t be doubted... yet doubt lingers all the same."
Alice’s gaze sharpened. "You presume much, Lady Voss."
Emma’s smile was soft, mocking. "I observe. There’s a difference." She traced the edge of her fan along her wrist before adding, "And if my observation happens to be correct, then you should be more wary than ever. Betrayal does not come from strangers—it comes from those we allow closest."
Alice’s jaw tensed, her nails pressing faint crescents into her palm beneath the tablecloth. "You speak as if every bond is destined to rot."
"No," Emma replied, her voice cool and measured.
"I speak as someone who has already tasted the rot. Do not make the mistake of assuming loyalty simply because someone bows before you. Men, women, even the lowliest attendants—ambition gnaws at them all the same. And ambition makes demons of us all."
The words lingered, heavy, dangerous.
Alice let silence stretch before answering, her tone low. "Perhaps. But unlike some, I do not discard trust at the first shadow. Suspicion is a blade that cuts both ways—use it too freely, and you end up bleeding yourself."
Emma’s lips curved. "Ah. That’s what makes you interesting, Lady Draken. So young, so bold, still willing to gamble on people. Let us see if your faith proves your salvation... or your ruin."
Alice held her stare without flinching. "...I don’t gamble. I make moves I can win."
For a moment, neither woman spoke. The silence between them stretched taut, sharp enough to cut.
Then Emma broke it with a light laugh, fluttering her fan as though brushing away the invisible weight. "Very well. But allow me to give you a piece of advice, Lady Draken."
Alice’s gaze did not waver. "I’m listening."
Emma’s smile lingered, but her tone carried a subtle gravity.
"I’ve seen countless criminals in my lifetime—sentencing them, tossing them into the mines. Among them, there were certainly the twisted ones, those who committed cruelty for no reason at all." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. "But they are rare. Most crimes... more than eighty percent of them, in fact, are born from familiarity. A friend, a confidant, a servant—someone close enough to exploit trust."
Her fan closed with a decisive snap.
"Remember this: betrayal cuts deepest when it comes from the ones you least suspect. Trust carefully, or the knife will land where you’re most unguarded."
The words, cloaked as gentle counsel, lingered like smoke.
Alice’s lips curved faintly, though her eyes glimmered like frost under moonlight. "Is that concern I hear, Lady Voss? Or just another warning dressed in courtesy?"
Emma chuckled again, a sound as polished as her noble smile. "Why not both?"
Alice leaned back slightly, her posture still impeccable, though her fingers tightened on the armrest of her chair.
"Your words are heavy, Lady Voss. Almost as though you’ve lived through betrayal yourself."
Emma’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened, like glass reflecting light.
"Haven’t we all? You grow up in these gilded halls long enough, and you learn that betrayal isn’t an exception. It’s the rule. Some of us simply learn the lesson earlier than others."
Alice tilted her head. "And what lesson did you take from it?"
"That loyalty is a currency, Lady Draken," Emma replied smoothly. "Buy it while it’s cheap, spend it before it expires, and never—ever—expect it to last forever."
Alice’s lips curved, though there was no warmth in her smile. "A rather bleak philosophy for someone so young. Are you certain it isn’t cynicism disguised as wisdom?"
Emma chuckled lightly, tapping the edge of her fan against her chin. "Perhaps. But bleak truths are often the ones most reliable."
For a moment, they simply looked at each other, two predators in silken dresses, each unwilling to show the slightest crack.
Finally, Alice broke the silence. Her voice was calm, almost casual, but beneath it ran a thin current of steel.
"Then tell me, Lady Voss. If betrayal is so inevitable... what stops you from betraying me, here and now?"
Emma’s fan froze mid-motion, then lowered with deliberate grace. "Nothing," she said softly. "Except that, at this moment, our interests align. And as long as that remains true, you and I are... allies."
Alice let a breath slip through her nose, sharp as frost. "Temporary allies."
"Of course," Emma agreed smoothly, though the spark in her eyes betrayed amusement. "Isn’t that the only kind worth keeping?"
Alice’s smile thinned. "I prefer the kind I can trust."
Emma gave a small, elegant shrug, as though brushing away the notion itself.
"Trust if you must, Lady Draken. Just remember—when it fails you, don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Their gazes locked once more. Neither blinked, neither yielded.
At last, Alice inclined her head ever so slightly, her tone cool but polite. "Your counsel is noted. And your information—" her hand brushed the edge of the ornate gift box resting on the table, "—will be put to good use."
Emma’s lips curved into a perfect noble smile, the kind that never reached the eyes.
"Then may it serve you well. After all, nothing ruins a birthday quite like betrayal, wouldn’t you agree?"
Alice’s smile mirrored hers, brittle and sharp.
"Quite."
The air between them thrummed with unspoken tension, heavy as a drawn bowstring.
And yet, both women laughed softly—two duchesses cloaked in civility, their daggers hidden just beneath the silk.