These were palace guards.
Men who stood at the heart of authority.
People entrusted with protecting the royal grounds itself. Incorruptible—at least, that was what everyone believed. In the western territories, wardens were like that.
Nobles, too. And palace guards above all should have embodied that ideal.
Anyone bold—or foolish—enough to test them should have been dragged straight to the dungeon without room for complaint.
That was how it was supposed to go.
Yet—
"Make sure you’re back before sundown," one of the guards said lazily. "That’s when our shift ends."
Julies laughed lightly. "Ha-ha. Understood. We’ll keep that in mind. Take care."
The gates began to open.
Emma stared.
Her mind refused to process what she was seeing.
What... was this scene?
The demon—fine. That sort of shamelessness was expected of his kind.
But a noble lady from a count’s family?
And the palace guards, abandoning their sacred duty so casually?
She had never imagined a reality where all of them would simply... go along with this.
Her face twisted, disbelief and frustration contorting her expression into something almost ugly.
"What are you doing, Lady Voss?" Julies asked, glancing back. "You’re not coming?"
She wanted to spit at him.
At the way he tilted his head, feigning innocence.
At the calm smile that made it feel like she was the strange one here.
"...This is wrong," Emma said at last, her voice tight.
"Hm?" Julies blinked. "What is? Did Lady Amelia notice something?"
"Well—" She clenched her fists. "I mean, shouldn’t this be... a serious problem?"
"Not really," he replied easily. "At least, not today."
Not a problem.
The words hit her like molten lava, splitting something open inside her chest.
Utterly absurd.
Unacceptable.
Something that should never be accepted—yet somehow was.
She stood there, frozen, head lowered, teeth clenched so tightly her jaw ached. The world around her felt warped, as though the rules she had lived by had quietly slipped away when she wasn’t looking.
Then—
A gentle warmth brushed against her hand.
Emma flinched.
The instant that heat seeped into her skin, soothing the violent churn of her thoughts, confusion washed over her face.
"...Hmm," Julies murmured. "So that’s what you were thinking."
"What—!?" Emma yanked her hand away. "Let go!"
She shook him off immediately, but it was already too late.
She caught him smirking.
"It’s interesting," he said lightly. "That upright sense of justice. I’ll be cheering for you."
The smile looked innocent.
It wasn’t.
Something about it made her skin crawl, a faint, ticklish sensation running up her spine.
"But you know," Julies continued, his tone softening, "Miss Emma... the world doesn’t run on principles and justice alone."
She looked up sharply. "Then what does it run on?"
He paused, as if genuinely considering the question.
Then he gestured behind them—toward the palace gates, now distant, shrinking into a small dot against the city walls.
"Balance," he said. "Convenience. Power. Compromise."
Emma’s brows furrowed. "That’s just another way of excusing corruption."
"Maybe," Julies agreed easily. "Or maybe it’s just acknowledging reality."
She scoffed. "Reality shouldn’t excuse wrongdoing."
"And ideals alone won’t stop bloodshed," he replied, meeting her gaze. "If bending a rule prevents a war, is it still wrong?"
Emma opened her mouth—
Then closed it.
She didn’t have an answer ready. That frustrated her more than anything else.
Julies watched her quietly for a moment before speaking again.
"You don’t have to agree with me," he said. "Honestly, I’d be disappointed if you did."
"...What does that mean?"
"It means," he smiled faintly, "someone has to keep believing in how things should be. Otherwise, people like me start deciding how things are ."
That gave her pause.
She studied him more carefully now—not as a demon, not as an anomaly dragged into her world by circumstance—but as a man who walked forward without hesitation, carrying contradictions as naturally as breathing.
He wasn’t looking at her.
His gaze was fixed somewhere ahead, unfocused, as if he were staring at a path only he could see.
After a brief silence, he spoke again.
"...Aren’t you the same as them?"
He didn’t elaborate.
He didn’t need to.
Emma understood instantly.
Aren’t you also abandoning your duties for the sake of revenge?
By siding with me?
Her jaw tightened.
For a fleeting moment, an image surfaced unbidden—warm arms, a familiar scent, a voice telling her that justice didn’t have to be loud to be real.
Her mother.
Emma’s fingers curled into her palm.
-Crunch.
The sound of leather creaking echoed faintly as she ground her teeth.
"...Are you satisfied now?" she asked coldly. "Hitting a nerve like that?"
Julies leaned in just enough for his shadow to fall over her shoulder. His voice dropped, softened—deliberately so.
"Justice is a troublesome thing," he murmured, almost fondly.
"The justice you’re thinking of... and mine—being a demon—are probably nothing alike."
Emma didn’t respond.
He chuckled under his breath.
"Still," he went on, lips curving faintly, "it’s good to think about it. Chewing on questions like that."
His tongue flicked briefly across his lips.
"Emotions taste better when they’re conflicted."
That did it.
Emma snapped back to herself, whirling on him with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. The hesitation vanished, replaced by pure, unfiltered loathing.
"Don’t talk like you understand me," she said. "You don’t."
Julies straightened, letting out a quiet sigh—almost disappointed.
"As you wish."
He turned and pointed ahead, toward the descending road swallowed by shadow.
"Come on. It’s time to fulfill your desire."
Emma frowned. "...And what exactly do you think my desire is?"
He glanced back at her, eyes glinting.
"To finish what you started."
A pause.
"...Where are you taking us?" she asked.
His answer was immediate.
"To catch a criminal, one must go to the criminal’s den."
The words settled heavily between them.
Then he added, casually—
"The underworld."
Emma’s breath caught.
The underworld.
A place whispered about even in the West. A maze of black markets, information brokers, illegal magic, cult remnants, and things that slipped through the cracks of every nation’s laws.
Even seasoned veterans avoided it unless they had no other choice.