MCFPM 28

Eonian’s eyebrows shot up.

“The Duke wants to abuse me.”

“What?”

“Ab-use. Not murder.”

“……”

He rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“Ah, seriously… I should’ve killed that damned lion right at the wedding.”

“You’ve been acting strangely unlike yourself lately, you know that?”

“……”

Eonian bit his lip hard.

“I just regret not killing him when I had the chance.”

“What are you even— never mind. Anyway, just remember this: Duke Leonat sees me as a toy to play with.”

“…Right.”

Having finished explaining one of the enemies behind the scenes, Cherylrot moved on to the next subject.

“Now, about the ‘Peregrine’ I mentioned—you should know who that is…”

“It’s a bird, right? A raptor?”

“Hmm?”

What the— how did he know that?

“The name kind of gives it away.”

“Ah.”

Right. The surname Peregrine itself meant “traveler” or “wanderer.”

“Yeah, exactly. He’s an owl beastkin.”

Caliph Peregrine.

Cherylrot had seen him only rarely during her stay at the Grand Duke’s manor.

At first, he was so secretive that she’d nearly mistaken him for a thief.

“…Wait—is he flying that distance?”

After secretly spying on him from the attic using a special telescope she had crafted herself, she’d realized he was one of Odelli’s agents.

He’s part of the government anyway, so we’ve run into each other a few times. Though I doubt he realizes I’ve figured out who he is.

That ignorance and complacency would eventually come back to cut him like a knife.

Cherylrot slightly raised her eyes and continued,

“Remember when we saw the Knight Commander’s end a few days ago?”

Eonian’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded.

“I do. That tracking artifact you planted worked, didn’t it?”

Though the recorded voice had been distorted, Cherylrot had managed to restore even the altered tones afterward.

As a result, she confirmed that the leader was male, and capable of moving swiftly through multiple locations far faster than an ordinary person.

Given the circumstantial evidence that an owl beastkin—Peregrine—was frequently sneaking into the Grand Duke’s manor late at night carrying something…

“So this man, Peregrine, is the head of that information network.”

That was the logical conclusion.

Cherylrot tilted her head slightly.

“Honestly, I haven’t spoken much with Peregrine, so I don’t know how badly he wants me dead.”

“So you’re saying he should be worried about dying.”

“Probably. There must be a reason he’s Odelli’s lover, after all.”

“Her lover? Ha—what the hell…”

Eonian pressed a hand to his forehead, muttering a curse under his breath. Something about “filthy business,” perhaps.

“Anyway, Eonian.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we could make the two of them fight each other?”

Instantly, the contempt in Eonian’s eyes vanished—replaced with eager anticipation.

“So you do have a plan, don’t you?”

“…No, not exactly.”

Cherylrot shook her head.

“Leonat and Peregrine might cooperate, but honestly, it’s strange that the Duke was able to mobilize one of Odelli’s assassins.”

“True. According to what you’ve said, Peregrine isn’t Leonat’s subordinate—he belongs to the Grand Duchess of the East.”

But among the Peregrine assassins, one of the Marcel siblings had clearly been working for Leonat, not Peregrine.

“So this time, the Duke’s overstepped his authority.”

“Exactly.”

“That damned lion’s trying to toy with you, but it’s going to blow up in his face. Serves him right.”

Cherylrot gave Eonian an odd look at his smug grin.

Truthfully, this wasn’t just some simple blunder. The Duke likely assumed she wouldn’t remember the unique scent of that poison herb—hence his boldness.

“If we play this well, we might even drag Odelli herself into this.”

Eonian murmured excitedly.

He was a strategist. When Cherylrot spoke, it was his job to polish her thoughts into tangible results.

The spark of tactical curiosity lit up in his eyes.

“Anything else you can tell me?”

“Uh… hmm…”

As Cherylrot thought for a moment, an idea lit up in her head like a bulb.

“While interrogating the Marcel siblings—could you check if either of them has any irregularities in their memories?”

Eonian’s expression turned faintly curious, but he didn’t ask why.

That alone was a relief. While the strategist eagerly began sorting through papers, Cherylrot turned her gaze toward the bright sky outside.

…If the Marcel siblings’ memories were tampered with,

then there’s something else I have to do first.

She rubbed her temple out of habit.

A ruined land, drenched in blood.
A family member’s hand pushed him off the cliff.

“Run!”

His sister’s tearful face lingered for an instant before vanishing. He tried to grab her long black hair—but all he saw above was the cold sky and the dragon that devoured his family.

As he fell into darkness, the burning grief pierced his heart.

Ren thought as he clawed at the air—

Why? Why did it have to be my family?
The Grand Duke, who had sworn to protect them from monsters, was nowhere to be found. Those living on the border cliffs had been abandoned under the excuse that they were “too difficult to rescue.”

His body convulsed in pain as if torn apart. It wasn’t from the cold—rage consumed him. The Grand Duke’s neglect had taken everything from him.

“This one… seems useful.”

That fury caught Peregrine’s attention.

Ren learned relentlessly under him. His hatred toward the northern Chartreuse family kept him moving.

After finishing assassin training, he infiltrated the Grand Duke’s castle with Leah. And there…

“Hey, are your wings okay?”

Ren Marcel, imprisoned in the underground dungeon, jolted awake.

He sat up and glanced around.

“…Ah.”

The straw covering him slipped off. Realizing he was still in the underground cell, he glared irritably at the mossy wall.

Has it been a week already?

Yesterday, Bascallia had interrogated him.

“You say your childhood pickpocketing caused a reaction to the holy relic? …Then I’ll grant you the Blessing of Purification. Swear you’ll never do such things again.”

He did as told. He swore. He even received the blessing.

But every other suspect on the same floor had been released one by one—only he remained imprisoned.

Ren clicked his teeth in frustration.

Damn it. I can’t even break the poison capsule in my mouth. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before they find it…

For some reason, the dungeon had recently been reinforced. Magic circles were carved into the corridor walls—ones that prevented self-harm.

Luckily, he had smuggled in a communication talisman, allowing him to contact his partner—but even that was risky. For all he knew, his partner could turn him in first.

Ren had no intention of quitting assassination until he’d avenged his family against the Chartreuse family, so betraying Leah wasn’t an option.

He sighed in his helpless predicament—

—When suddenly,

Aaaahhhh!

A woman’s shriek echoed.

Please, please, I swear it wasn’t me…!

“……”

No, I don’t know! I only helped those kids sometimes—please! Aaahhh!

As the desperate crying continued, Ren’s eyebrow twitched. He muttered quietly,

“…Cecile?”

She was the senior maid who had introduced the Marcel siblings into the Grand Duke’s service.

Ren’s legs gave out and he sank to the ground.

Cecile was the one who’d brought them here. If she was being tortured…

“Damn it…”

Ren groaned and clutched his head.

AAAHHH!

“Shut up…”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He wasn’t easily shaken—his assassin training had hardened him. But his decision to become an assassin had been for revenge, not cruelty.

He couldn’t understand why Cecile was being treated like this.

If they suspect us, they should start by torturing me or Leah, not her!

Cecile Draken was kind. She’d called Ren “the kid,” doted on him gently, and even reminded him of his sister with her long black hair.

But sitting here doing nothing changed nothing. Still nothing.

Then—

We’ve probably been found out already.

A telepathic voice rang in his head.

It was Leah Marcel. Ren glanced sharply around, pulling out his talisman.

“I know. So what?”

You know, but you’re still sitting there? Think of a way out, idiot.

A way out?

What way out?! The poison didn’t work, the dungeon doors had been reinforced since the Knight Commander’s escape—

“Don’t talk nonsense, Marcel. What the hell can we even do?”

Hah… So you’re just gonna sit there and die, huh?

Leah’s mocking voice came through.

Moron.

“What?”

Then die there, for all I care.

Only then did Ren realize—Leah hadn’t contacted him to cooperate, but to confirm there was no way for him to escape.

“You… damn it…”

Veins bulged at his temple.

And then he caught the scent of smoke.

Leah Marcel had set fire to the underground prison.