Emma ground her teeth, her fan clenched so tightly that the lacquered ribs let out a faint, protesting creak.
"Someday," she said, her voice low and sharp, "I will make you regret this."
I chuckled, unfazed, lifting my hands in mock surrender.
"Hehe, let’s save that pleasure for later. Just remember—I’m always doing my utmost to fulfill your wishes."
Her glare could have drawn blood.
Still, the atmosphere shifted.
Everyone present understood it instinctively.
We were done waiting.
It was time to move.
Time to fulfill Emma’s long-held desire—
and, conveniently, to take care of a few matters of my own.
I straightened, letting my gaze pass over the group.
"Both of you," I said calmly, "prepare proper outing attire. Nothing flashy. Bring simple weapons as well."
Emma stiffened immediately, as if I’d asked her to burn down the palace.
"That’s impossible," she snapped. "It’s completely against protocol for guests of the royal family to leave so casually. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal that would cause?"
I tilted my head, studying her.
"Is etiquette more important than revenge?"
Silence.
Her fan lowered by a fraction.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"...You’re insufferable," she muttered.
"And yet," I replied lightly, "you’re still listening."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice just enough to make the words feel private.
"Just follow me. This won’t be recorded as an official outing, and it won’t escalate into a political incident. At worst, it’ll be written off as youthful recklessness."
Emma scoffed.
"Written off by whom?"
"By the same people who don’t want certain matters brought into the open," I said.
She met my eyes then—really looked at me—and whatever she saw there made her turn away with a sharp click of her tongue.
"Fine."
She spun on her heel, skirts swaying as she stalked toward the corridor.
"I’ll change," she said over her shoulder. "But if this turns into a disaster, I’m blaming you for every single consequence."
"I wouldn’t have it any other way," I replied.
Once she was gone, the tension eased—just slightly.
Amelia let out a long, exhausted sigh and folded her arms.
"...You," she said flatly. "You have a real talent for dumping the most troublesome work on everyone else."
"Amelia," I said, placing a hand over my heart, "that hurts."
She shot me a look that clearly said good.
"Tch." She clicked her tongue. "Fine. I’ll handle the logistics."
Her tone was reluctant, but there was no real refusal in it.
She was already thinking ahead—routes, timing, excuses, which guards could be persuaded to look the other way.
Her lips curved, just barely, into a knowing smile.
"So," she continued, eyes narrowing slightly, "are you planning to drag Lady Voss even deeper into this mess?"
I paused for half a second.
"...You really are sharp."
Amelia huffed softly.
"When people get close to what they desire most, they stop noticing how far they’ve already stepped in. I’ve seen it before."
There was something heavier beneath her words—experience, not theory.
I didn’t deny it.
"She’s already involved," I said quietly. "Whether she likes it or not."
Amelia studied me for a long moment, then looked away.
"...Leave it to me," she said. "I’ll do what I can. If nothing else, I’ll make sure no one realizes how deep this goes until it’s too late to stop."
I gave her a small nod.
"Thanks."
She waved it off.
"Don’t thank me yet. If this blows up, I’m holding you responsible."
"Fair."
And just like that Amelia was also gone...
Not long after, the two of them returned—no longer dressed for a social gathering.
Gone were the layered dresses and polished shoes.
In their place were fitted, practical clothes meant for movement rather than appearances.
Amelia carried a slender staff strapped across her back, its surface etched with faint runes.
Emma, —rested a coiled whip at her hip, its handle worn smooth from use.
They looked ready for trouble.
Emma’s gaze swept over me from head to toe, sharp and unamused.
"...You don’t look any different," she said flatly.
I raised an eyebrow. "I always keep things hidden."
Before either of them could ask what I meant, I reached into my coat and produced a dagger, the metal catching the light.
Emma froze.
Then she stared at me as if I’d just announced I enjoyed juggling live grenades.
"...You really are unfamiliar with court customs," she muttered, rubbing her temple.
"Are you actually a demon?"
"What?" I frowned. "No. Why would you—"
"Do you think the royal court allows concealed weapons?" she snapped.
"Not daggers. Not needles. Not even ceremonial blades. Carrying one inside the palace is treason."
I blinked.
"...Treason?"
"Yes," she said curtly. "The kind that gets you arrested before you can explain yourself."
A beat passed.
Then realization hit.
...Was I spared only because of the Draken family’s influence?
Because Alice was standing beside me?
Because everyone was too busy dealing with demons, vampires, and potential world-ending threats to scrutinize a single servant?
A chill crawled up my spine.
’I really need to be more careful.’
"Oh," I said honestly, slipping the dagger back into my palm. "Thanks for the warning."
Emma let out a long, suffering sigh, as if my continued existence was personally exhausting.
"Hide it somewhere less obvious," she said. "An anklet. A ring compartment. Anything."
"I’ll use an anklet," I replied immediately.
I slid the dagger away, tucking it into a concealed sheath near my ankle.
Emma flinched.
"...I’ve just taught a demon something useful," she muttered.
I grinned.
"Hehe. You’ll be teaching me willingly soon enough."
Both of them stopped walking.
Emma turned slowly, eyes narrowed.
Amelia shot me a sharp look—half warning, half curiosity.
"What did you say?" Emma asked.
"We’ll both get what we want," I continued calmly, meeting Emma’s glare without backing down.
"And in the end, we’ll become true allies."
"That will never happen," Emma said instantly.
She turned her head away, crossing her arms tightly, as if afraid that meeting my gaze for even a second longer might weaken her resolve.
The silence stretched.
Amelia watched the exchange closely, her expression unreadable.
I shrugged.
’We’ll see.’
That was exactly how it had started with Amelia, too.
Hostility.
Distrust.
A blade hovering just short of my throat.
Now looked at her.
She’s completely changed her attitude around me.
Emma was no different.
She was sharp. Careful. Guarded.
But people like her always had something driving them—something buried under discipline and duty.
And that’s why...
She, too, would eventually come to me.