"His residence," she whispered again, her lips curling into the faintest smile.
And after that she decided to headed towards the residence that he was assigned in Darken family.
He’s quater was in the servent section where all the servent of Draken family lives.
Emma’s steps were soft but unhurried, the whisper of her gown sweeping across the polished floors as she slipped away from the reception hall.
No one questioned her absence; somone at her status needed no excuse. Her fan rested loosely in her hand, flicking open and closed with idle grace, but her eyes carried the sharpness of a hawk scanning for prey.
The servant quarters of the Draken estate were far from the glittering halls above. A place of plain wood, narrow hallways, and the faint smell of soap and smoke. Hardworking, invisible hands lived here—the ones who kept the ducal family’s grandeur spotless.
It was there Julies Evans had chosen to settle.
Emma paused just outside the row of rooms, her gaze narrowing at the modest door bearing no mark of distinction.
Here it is... his nest.
The very idea that the man she suspected—the one she believed might be the infamous Faceless Imposter—slept behind such an ordinary door nearly made her laugh aloud. But wasn’t that his perfect disguise? To wrap himself in mediocrity until no one looked twice?
Her fan snapped shut with a muted click.
"Julies Evans," she murmured, her tone laced with both mockery and challenge. "Shall I see what truths you’ve buried here?"
She glanced down the hallway. The servants were busy, scurrying between kitchen and courtyard, too distracted to notice her presence. To them, she was untouchable, far too highborn to be questioned.
And if anyone did notice her peering where she shouldn’t? She needed only a single word to silence suspicion.
Emma stepped closer, her gloved knuckles rapping firmly against the door.
"Julies Evans, are you in there?"
A moment’s pause—then the muffled reply.
"Lady Voss? What brings you here?"
’Tch. Inconvenient. If no one had answered, I would have broken down the door right away. A pity.’
She tilted her head with a gentle smile, masking her true thoughts. An open confrontation would risk destroying evidence. Better to pry carefully.
"Sir Julies, I have something to ask."
"Ask away."
"I came to celebrate Lady Alice’s birthday... yet I suddenly realized I don’t know what she truly likes."
Her tone carried only innocent curiosity, as though she were nothing more than a thoughtful guest.
"I’ve gathered several gifts in the drawing room but can’t decide. Could you help me choose the most suitable one?"
All she needed was for him to step away from his room. Then the rest would be simple.
Julies’s face softened into polite duty. "The joy of the master is the joy of the servant. I will gladly accompany you."
He led the way without hesitation, no suspicion clouding his expression.
"...Rise," Emma whispered under her breath.
At once, golden grains of sand spilled from her sleeve, scattering across the pristine floor.
–Squeak.
The sand gathered into the form of a small mouse, its body gleaming faintly in the light. A western familiar—fragile but invaluable for silent reconnaissance. Through it, she could share sight and issue simple commands.
"Here we are," Julies said as they entered her room. On the table lay an array of gifts: jewelry boxes, rare fabrics, even a silver lyre inlaid with sapphires.
Julies picked up a smooth purple gem that shimmered faintly in his palm. "Ah... this is a high-grade mana stone."
Emma’s smile did not falter as she answered vaguely. "Indeed. Coming from the west, you’d recognize its worth. But tell me—do you think Alice would enjoy something like this?"
While she played the gracious hostess, her thoughts were far elsewhere.
Through the familiar’s eyes, she retraced their steps. The tiny mouse slipped back toward Julies’s quarters, squeezing through the slightly ajar door.
The vision overlapped with her own like a ghostly second sight. Bed neatly made, wardrobe tall and plain, drawers lined in order. Nothing suspicious at first glance.
’Not there... not there either...’
The mouse scurried across the desk, its whiskers twitching. And then—
Her breath caught.
There, lying atop the desk as though it had simply been set down after casual use, was a golden mask. Its craftsmanship was unmistakable: ostentatious filigree, jewels embedded along the rim, its surface polished to a mirror sheen.
Exactly as Alice had described.
Emma’s lips curved faintly, her gaze never leaving Julies as he lingered over another gift box.
"...What’s the matter? You seem rather pleased," Julies asked, tilting his head with mild curiosity.
Emma’s fan snapped open with a soft flick, half-hiding her smile.
"Of course, I am," she replied airily.
But behind that calm exterior, her thoughts raced.
Her familiar’s report had confirmed it—within this very hall, she had glimpsed the mask of the Faceless Imposter.
No more need for subtlety. No more waiting.
Her eyes hardened as she turned toward Julies.
"Julies Evans," she began, her voice sharp enough to cut glass, "are you aware of the special authority granted to the Voss family by His Majesty, the Emperor of Solhaven?"
Julies blinked, taken aback for only a heartbeat before answering carefully.
"Of course, Lady Voss. I know enough. You’re referring to the provisional trial system , aren’t you?"
Emma closed her fan with a decisive snap.
"Correct. The right to arrest and judge suspects on the spot—no matter where they stand."
A hush fell between them, thick as storm clouds.
Her next words dropped like a gavel.
"Then this will be quick. Julies Evans, I am placing you under arrest on charges of high theft... and lèse-majesté."
The air seemed to freeze.
"...What?" Julies’s voice was low, incredulous, but the faint twitch of his jaw betrayed something darker. "What are you talking about?"
Emma’s eyes narrowed, her disgust barely veiled.
"There’s a limit to how shameless one man can be. You think you can masquerade in plain sight and I wouldn’t notice?"
She stepped forward, her tone steady, final.
"You are the Faceless Imposter. And by imperial authority, your freedom ends here."
"Huh. This is so absurd it leaves me speechless. Do you have any evidence?"
Emma smiled at the phrase she had heard too often in her life.
Emma tilted her head, her smile razor-thin.
"Evidence?" she echoed softly, her tone dripping with irony. "That word always amuses me, especially coming from a thief."
Her fan tapped lightly against her palm as her eyes gleamed with cold certainty. "Shall I recite it for you? The golden mask, lying brazenly on your desk. The timing of your disappearances. The uncanny convenience of your knowledge. Do you really think such things go unnoticed?"
Julies’s brows furrowed, his expression caught between disbelief and annoyance. "A mask? You’re accusing me based on a mask?"
"Not just a mask." Emma’s voice dropped lower, intimate yet venomous, like a serpent’s hiss. "The very mask Alice Draken described when he humiliated her. And now it sits in your quarters as though it were nothing. Do you expect me to think it coincidence?"
Julies chuckled lightly—too lightly. "You broke into my room?"
Emma’s lips twitched upward. "A noblewoman of the Voss family has no need to ’break in.’ Where I walk, walls bend."
She closed her fan with a snap that echoed like a verdict. "And what I saw is enough."
Julies’s eyes hardened, the faintest glint flashing through them before quickly smoothed into composure. "Then you should know—appearances can deceive. What if someone planted it there?"
Emma’s gaze sharpened like the edge of drawn steel. "Convenient excuse. Almost as though you had it prepared."
Silence hung heavy for a moment, charged, suffocating. Then Emma stepped closer, her heels clicking against the polished stone.
"Julies Evans," she declared, voice carrying the weight of law, "by imperial authority vested in House Voss, I command you to come with me. Resist, and you’ll be bound in chains before the whole estate."
Julies tilted his head slightly, lips curling into something halfway between amusement and disdain.
"...Chains, huh?" His tone was calm, almost too calm. "And what do you think Lady Draken will say... when she learns you dragged one of her household into custody without her permission?"
Emma’s smile deepened, cold and triumphant.
"Then let her protest. Let her fury echo through the north. I don’t care. My family’s honor comes before her pride—and I will see the Faceless Imposter broken, even if I must rip him out of her very halls."
Her words cut through the room, final and uncompromising.
The faintest tremor of tension filled the air, as if the space itself held its breath, waiting for who would make the first move.
Would Julies yield?
Or would the mask of pretense shatter here and now?
---
Author Note:
Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.
It’s my second novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.