"Lady, it’s been so long. Do you remember me? From the Crom viscountcy..."
"Your hair, it’s radiant as ever. Truly a jewel of the North. You must share your secret..."
As the daughter of a ducal house, Alice was used to this—people orbiting around her like moths to a flame. Their presence was both a nuisance and a badge of influence. Followers were proof of status, after all. A duchess without them would almost seem incomplete.
Normally, she would brush them off with her usual air of indifference, offering curt replies that kept them at arm’s length but never outright cold. But today...
"Oh my, Lady Draken, you don’t look well. Has something happened?"
"There isn’t," Alice said flatly.
The chill in her tone was enough to freeze the air between them. Her blunt words, sharper than usual, made her followers hesitate, unsure if they had somehow overstepped.
Alice’s expression betrayed nothing, but her silence weighed heavier than any rebuke.
Finally, she exhaled and waved her hand dismissively. "I’m tired. Stop crowding me. Leave."
The group exchanged awkward glances, their forced smiles faltering. One by one, they bowed out, their chatter cut short as they retreated.
The corridor that had been buzzing moments ago fell silent, leaving only Alice standing there, her figure solitary despite the grandeur around her.
The echo of their footsteps faded, leaving the corridor hollow and still.
Alice stood motionless, her hand still faintly raised from the gesture of dismissal. Slowly, she let it fall to her side.
They probably thought she was in a bad mood. And in a way, they weren’t wrong.
’Pathetic... flocking like crows to scraps.’
Normally, she could endure their simpering words, even find some use in them. A whisper of gossip here, a casual favor there. Nobility thrived on networks, and she had long since mastered the art of tolerating those who clung to her skirts.
But today, every word grated. Every compliment felt shallow, every smile insincere.
It wasn’t their fault. The fault lay with the thoughts she couldn’t shake.
Faceless Imposter. Demon. Julies.
The very name lit a fire in her chest. Ever since Emma Voss dared to speak of him as though he were a bargaining chip, Alice’s mind had been a storm. The deal, the insult, the condescension—it all churned together, leaving her sharper, shorter, less patient than usual.
She pressed her lips together, exhaling slowly. I can’t afford distractions. Not from fawning girls, not from Emma, not from anyone.
Her reflection in the polished window caught her eye—composed, poised, the image of a northern duchess. But behind the perfect mask, her eyes gleamed with a quiet, simmering hunger.
At that moment, she heard footsteps approaching.
Alice turned, her brows knitting together when she saw Amelia. She had been very clear—no interruptions. No one was to disturb her.
Did Amelia think she was the exception? Did she believe that being called a friend made her different from the rest?
Annoyance rose in Alice’s chest, and she parted her lips, ready to tell her to leave. But Amelia spoke first.
"I’ve just finished the investigation you asked for."
The words cut through Alice’s irritation like a blade, silencing her completely.
’Right... I asked her to look into the Faceless Imposter.’
The reminder pulled her back to that day—to her suspicions, to the dangerous whisper of Julies’s name. And now, Amelia stood here, not empty-handed but with new information.
"Here," Amelia said, holding out a rolled-up document. "Information from the Thieves’ Guild. It cost a pretty penny."
Alice’s breath caught. If Julies Evans’s name was written inside... then suspicion would no longer be speculation. It would be truth.
Her hand hovered over the parchment, hesitating. She didn’t want to untie the string. She didn’t want to see proof of betrayal written in black ink.
Amelia, perhaps sensing her pause, added lightly, "Should I say it’s expected of the Thieves’ Guild? At first I thought it was absurd, but they do have their reasons. Once you read it, you’ll understand. It’ll help with the tracking."
Alice’s eyes flicked up sharply, catching Amelia’s calm face.
"...You’ve seen this? And you have no thoughts?"
"Huh? What do you mean?" Amelia blinked, genuinely puzzled.
Impossible. If the document implicated Julies, then Amelia—his fiancée—would be stricken, outraged, anything but calm. Yet her expression held only mild curiosity, as though none of it touched her at all.
That could only mean one thing: Julies wasn’t mentioned.
"...Amelia. Thank you."
Alice’s voice softened, a thin smile forming at the corner of her lips. The weight pressing down on her chest loosened, almost painfully. Relief washed over her, though it stung. She had been ready to doubt. Ready to believe the worst of someone who had never once failed her.
’Shameful... utterly shameful. I should have been the first to trust him.’
The thought cut deep, colder than any dagger.
"What are you saying?" Amelia replied, her voice warm, almost chiding. "It’s something friends should naturally do for each other."
Alice met her gaze, and this time, Amelia reached out and clasped her hands. Her touch was gentle, steady, radiating warmth.
For a moment, Alice let it linger. That simple warmth—so soft, so unassuming—felt like something she hadn’t realized she needed.
But behind her calm eyes, a quiet storm still brewed.
’Faceless Imposter. You’ve taken enough from me already. I won’t let you take more.’
....And in the next moment, she decided to openethe document.
With a sharp tug, the string came loose. Her eyes scanned the inked lines, and the world seemed to narrow to the black script in front of her.
The report bore the mark of the Thieves’ Guild—two crossed daggers etched in wax—authentication that no merchant or noble spy could forge.
Alice leaned forward, her eyes sharpening.
---
Confidential Report — The Faceless Imposter
Compiled by: Northern Branch, Thieves’ Guild
Submitted to: Lady Frost
Classification: High-risk individual
---
Alias: Faceless Imposter
Known Activities:
Recent infiltration of the northern auction house during the Phantom Thief incident.
Theft of multiple artifacts, including those under ducal seal.
Demonstrated combat proficiency surpassing common rogues.
Reportedly confronted and survived engagement with Duke Draken retainers, albeit wounded.
----
Description:
Height: Approximately 180 cm.
Build: Lean but trained.
Distinguishing traits: Can change it’s face it’s own will. Known to alter voice and mannerisms convincingly—difficult to track in crowded spaces.
Notable: Rumors suggest inhuman reflexes and an ability to vanish even under magical surveillance.
----
Up until now, the first few pages had only skimmed the surface—just a brief introduction, a scattering of rumors about the so-called Faceless Imposter.
Alice’s fingers stilled as she reached the section where the real details began.
[Regarding the identity of the Faceless Imposter:
Rumors suggest that he hails from the West, based on his recent cooperation with the Phantom Thief.]
Her brows drew together.
The West?
Julies was also from the West.
That single line carried the same dangerous weight as Emma’s suspicion earlier.
’No... it’s too soon to conclude anything. Speculation alone isn’t proof. Amelia, of all people, would never hand over a report that blatantly accused her fiancé without trying to cover for him first.’
She pressed her lips into a thin line and read on.
[Another theory persists: that the Faceless Imposter is, in fact, a demon.]
...A demon?
Alice’s hand tightened on the edge of the parchment. She already knew the truth. The Faceless Imposter wasn’t human. Emma had caught the scent of it too—and if their observations overlapped, then...
Her thoughts flicked back to Julies.
Could it be? Could he really—?
Her chest tightened with something dangerously close to dread. She shook her head, as though the act could dispel the thought. No, she didn’t want to believe it.
’I just hope... Julies isn’t him. Or worse, isn’t a demon.’
Taking a steadying breath, Alice turned the page.
[The rumor linking the Faceless Imposter to demons first emerged after a request from Duke Draken.]
Her eyes sharpened.
[The steward’s directive had been clear: investigate both the vampire known as Velra and the thief called the Faceless Imposter. Consider the possibility that the latter is a new and unknown type of demon.]
Of course.
The North had always borne the brunt of demon incursions, their borders scarred by endless skirmishes. Demons were enemies of humanity—and to think this thief might be one of them only made the weight of her father’s order heavier.
[Current investigations point toward a minority demon race: the Parasite Demon.]
Her pulse quickened. She could almost hear her father’s cold, commanding voice echoing in her mind.
If the Faceless Imposter truly belonged to that race... then his very existence wasn’t just a nuisance to her pride. It was a threat.
And yet—Julies’s face flashed unbidden in her mind. His sly smile, the way he teased her with sharp words.
Her nails pressed into the parchment.
’No... please, let it not be him.’
Taking a deep breath, she flip o the final page of documents.
----
Author Note:
Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.