If Alice listens to Emma—if she takes her side—that’s it. There won’t be a second chance.
Still, charging straight at Alice right now would be foolish. I can’t just force myself closer when she’s already pushed me away.
She told me to get lost—wrapped in the politeness of nobility, of course, but the meaning was clear.
"I should keep my distance from Alice for now."
The seed of doubt is already planted in her mind. Trying to defend myself directly will only water it. Words from me would sound like excuses, no matter how true.
But that doesn’t mean I’ll stay silent and swallow this humiliation.
"I can always borrow someone else’s mouth."
Amelia Frost. She’s already showing signs of trusting me, and Alice trusts her. If I can move Amelia, then Alice will hear what I want her to hear—from a voice she won’t doubt.
So I’ll let Amelia handle the front, while I take care of the root of this problem: Emma Voss.
My lips curved into a smirk as I whispered, "Emma, your reasoning was sharp. But you’ll never catch me."
On paper, I’m just a baron’s son. But here in the north? I’ve carved out something more. A tournament winner. A man engaged—at least nominally—to the Frost family’s daughter, Amelia.
For a duke’s daughter, I’m not some easy prey she can drag down with rumors. Without evidence, I’m untouchable.
And Emma Voss has no evidence. Only her suspicion.
"I’ll have to give the duke’s daughter a proper lesson in how the game is really played."
She backed me into a corner with circumstantial guesses, but guesses are worthless without proof.
And proof... proof can be buried, twisted, or turned into ash.
In the end, no matter how sharp her tongue is, without evidence, she’s powerless.
Still....
The thought of Emma’s smug expression tugged at my patience, but I forced the anger down. Anger clouds judgment. Emma might believe herself clever, but cleverness without teeth is nothing more than chatter at a banquet.
"She doesn’t realize," I murmured, pacing the length of my room. "In the north, words alone don’t move mountains. Strength does."
Emma was banking on her status as a Voss. And true, in Solhaven, her family’s name could topple cities. But here, in this frozen land, her reach is long—but not absolute.
"Alice won’t betray me easily," I thought, fingers brushing over the Frostroot still hidden in my pocket. "But she will test me. And Emma will press her again, whispering venom whenever she can."
That was fine. Let them.
The game wasn’t about preventing suspicion. It was about surviving suspicion long enough for the truth to be irrelevant. If Alice needed me—and she would—then even Emma’s poison would be ignored.
Still, letting Emma run her mouth unchecked would be dangerous.
"A lesson, then." My lips curled into something cruel. "She wants evidence? Let’s give her the opposite."
There were a dozen ways. A misplaced rumor, a staged alibi, or better yet—turning her suspicion back on herself. Nobles were quick to believe scandal about others but never questioned their own kind.
If I could plant the smallest doubt in Alice’s mind that Emma Voss had her own reasons for bringing up the Faceless Imposter, then the balance would tilt back toward me.
"Not yet," I reminded myself, exhaling slowly. "The birthday gathering is the stage. Everyone important will be there. That’s when the trap will spring."
Until then, I would keep my distance. Smile when I must. Let Amelia speak on my behalf.
And when the time came—Emma Voss would learn that suspicion without proof is like an unsheathed sword with no edge.
It might look dangerous, but it cuts nothing.
"Enjoy your confidence while it lasts, Lady Voss. The moment you overstep..."
My eyes narrowed, the thought sharpening into resolve.
"...I’ll make sure you regret crossing me."
----
Emma had always trusted her intuition when it came to hunting criminals.
It wasn’t baseless instinct—her so-called "gut feeling" was sharpened over years of piecing together data, weighing circumstantial evidence, and watching how people cracked under pressure. That intuition was what had carried her family through countless humiliations and near-ruins.
And right now, all of it pointed to one man.
Julies Evans.
"...Yes. It fits too well," she murmured, tapping her fan against her chin.
The suspicion had begun when she started narrowing the suspects for the elusive Faceless Imposter.
A noble who quietly left the west to live in the north.
A man who seemed to appear out of nowhere, yet carried skills honed far beyond his station.
Julies Evans ticked every box.
And the red flags didn’t stop there.
Emma reached for the thin glasses she only wore while reviewing evidence. Through the polished lenses, the sharp ink of a folded newspaper came into focus.
[The Martial Arts Tournament Winner From the West? Has the North Truly Fallen So Low?]
Her lips curled faintly. The headlines were scathing, almost mocking. And yet, hidden in that derision was the seed of truth.
Julies had faced off against a northern noblewoman widely favored to win—and he’d defeated her. Not through luck, not by trickery, but with undeniable skill.
Magic. Blood magic. Even shadow magic—an art that most mages never touched in their lifetimes.
Her hand tightened around the paper. Blood magic alone was reckless. It drained the caster’s life essence with every spell, demanding blood as fuel. Most who dabbled in it ended up corpses before their talent could bloom.
And yet, Julies Evans had displayed it openly, as though death had no claim over him.
"If he had such power, why was he silent in the west? Why hide?" Emma whispered.
The Evans family was baronial, true—but with such abilities, Julies could have aimed higher. He might have fought for the family headship, or secured himself as a knight under her own Voss dukedom. He could have courted prestige, power, everything their society valued.
---
Author Note:
Thanks for the reading the Chapter, I hope you will like it.