The flickering flame inside Zephyr's maw danced in the reflection of Zerbst's eyes. He jerked his head back, the blistering heat licking at his sweat-slicked skin.
"I swear—I don't know who the mastermind is!" he blurted, eyes darting between the wolf and the blade-bearing intruders. "But I've heard things—dirty dealings behind closed doors."
Lyndoria's dagger grazed the neck of one of the seated men. A thin line of blood trickled down his throat and he let out a high-pitched squeal like a wild boar.
"H-He's telling the truth!" the man cried. "The Mhaledictus—they've been siphoning money from the treasury. It's disguised as charity, but it's all a front!"
Lyndoria didn't blink. Her blade dug in deeper, a wicked gleam in her eye. She still felt the sting of his earlier slap and wanted nothing more than to dispatch him on an express train to the deepest depths of hell.
"Go on," she said coldly.
"Th-They're funneling the coin to many different organizations, particularly those claiming to study magical theory and mana crystals," the man stammered. "But it's all smoke and mirrors. Most of the funds loop back to the Mhaledictus. And to the nobles who've already pledged loyalty to them."
"Tell me something I don't already know," Daisuke said, still disguised as Sophia, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
The men visibly tensed.
"…The Zepharion Church," one of them began. "They're not what they seem. They're neck-deep with the syndicate."
Lumielle's gaze turned icy. "We're listening," she said, each syllable weighted with contempt.
The third man nervously shifted in his seat. "The Percivals were commissioned to develop an elixir to heal the former king. Not just to cure his illness—but to restore his youth permanently. When that failed…"
"…They turned to drugs," Daisuke murmured, recalling his conversation with Adrian. "Pixie crystals."
"Otherwise known as mana dust," Zerbst confirmed, daring only a brief glance at Zephyr who was still snarling just inches away from his face. "The Mhaledictus aren't just running the red-light district—they've seized control of the entire drug trade. But the Zepharion Church?" He gave a bitter chuckle. "They're the perfect distributors. They prey on the desperate—on those chasing salvation."
"They offer hope from the pulpit," said another man with a nervous snicker. "And crystals in the confessionals."
Zerbst allowed that unsavory truth to linger before he continued. "They twist the faith of their congregation and offer promises of divine revelation while slipping them sacred morsel laced with addiction. Over time, the faithful stop praying for salvation and started craving their next dose."
One of the other men scoffed. "Faith is just another addiction anyway. Makes sense they'd swap one illusion for another—only this one actually gives them a high."
Another man spoke up, his voice lower. "The Mhaledictus chose this kingdom for a reason. We're underdeveloped, fractured. And the king—he wasn't himself after losing the queen. He was vulnerable."
Lumielle's jaw tensed, her lips pressed into a firm line.
Beside her, Silvestia cast a quiet glance her way, eyes filled with understanding—and fury.
Daisuke narrowed his gaze. "If none of you know who the mastermind is… then do you at least suspect anyone?"
A heavy silence followed. Then, hesitantly, one of the men glanced nervously to their cunning host. "I… thought it might be Lord Zerbst," he murmured. "That's why I stayed close to him—did everything he asked. I thought, if I stayed in his good graces…"
The others turned to him in stunned disbelief.
Zerbst's face contorted in outrage. "What!? Why the hell would you think that?"
The man shrank back. "Y-You're incredibly well-informed. You always seem to know things before the rest of us. You've built a vast intelligence network. And you've got men—lots of men—willing to carry out your orders without question."
Zerbst scowled but responded coolly. "Of course, I believe knowledge is power. And yes, I've spent years building an information web. That's how the game of politics is played. But that doesn't make me the mastermind. I'm ambitious, not suicidal."
Another man raised his hand slightly, voice unsure. "I always suspected the Archmage. Lady Eleonore… she's hidden away in that tower, free to come and go as she pleases without anyone noticing.
She's brilliant, wealthy, terrifyingly powerful—and connected. If anyone had the means to orchestrate all of this, it's her. And those Mhaledictus assassins… for all we know, they're golems she crafted herself."
Eleonore would never betray us, Lumielle thought bitterly, refusing to dignify the accusation with words.
Daisuke frowned in thought.
"…I always suspected Lord Vaerythos," Zerbst said suddenly. "He's never shown the proper respect for the king or the royal family. He's overly ambitious… too hungry for power. Too… slippery. Everyone knows he dabbles in shady affairs, even if no one can ever prove it."
"I agree," another said. "He was livid when Cassius was appointed Grand Chancellor. Ever since then, he's made it his mission to undermine him. Every council meeting, every policy—he's constantly finding ways to undercut him."
Daisuke's voice was cold. "And you don't suspect Cassius?"
They shook their heads. One of them said, "Never. Cassius has always been loyal to the crown. He's gone above and beyond in his service to the kingdom. If anything, he was the most devastated when the king fell ill… and when Her Highness was declared a traitor."
Daisuke glanced at Lumielle. She seems pretty convinced Cassius is innocent too. "Then no one else?" He asked, scrutinizing the four lousy men. "Not a single other person you suspect to be the mastermind?"
The nobles exchanged unsure glances. One finally said, "No. The rest of the court has either fallen in line or resisted—nothing out of the ordinary. There's no one I can think of with that level of foresight, control, and ambition… except Lord Vaerythos."
Suddenly, as if to underscore the culmination of the interrogation, Lumielle pulled back the sheer veil concealing her face and flicked her coral pink hair.
The men gasped in disbelief.
"Y-Your Highness! You're alive?" Zerbst stammered, color draining from his face. "But the attack on the tower—you should've been—"
"—Dead?" Daisuke cut in coldly. In the blink of an eye, his leg whipped out in a swift roundhouse kick that sent the bastard crashing to the floor. Before the man could recover, Daisuke slammed a foot onto the side of his head, pinning him with crushing force. "Because that was the plan, wasn't it? Kill the king. Eliminate anyone who stood in your way. Her included."
The others shrank back in terror.
Zerbst groaned, blood trickling from his lip. "I-I swear… I wasn't part of that. I never agreed to it—I never wanted to hurt the king or the princess!"
"And yet you knew," Daisuke hissed, grinding his heel into the man's temple. "You knew, and you let it happen. You chose silence. That makes you complicit—whether you like it or not."
Lumielle stepped forward, her voice cold as ice. "You'll all be imprisoned. You'll be interrogated further. And when order is restored… you'll be judged for your crimes."
At her words, Leopold entered the room and aggressively began binding the four men with thick ropes. They trembled with wide eyes, now stripped of their power and pride.
Lyndoria stormed in like a dark cloud, fists clenched and eyes ablaze. In between curses, she began punching the bound men—ignoring their cries—releasing her fury with each blow. She turned her wrath to Zerbst specifically, kicking him again and again.
"I've heard what you've done," she spat. "What you like to do. Torturing women. Breaking them for sport. You're going to pay, you filthy bastard. You'll be punished tenfold—no, a hundredfold—for every scream you ever enjoyed."
Daisuke watched the scene unfold with a flat stare. Part of him found it satisfying. Part of him felt hollow. They were getting closer—but this was yet another wall. Another dead end.
But before despair could settle in his chest, a quiet gust swept through the room and Midnight appeared from the shadows. With a flick of his tail, the feline handed his master a folded letter with a wax seal.
***
To say Stynx was annoyed would've been an understatement of criminal proportions. As he fastened his garb and flung his cape over his shoulders, he cast a sidelong glance at the prostitute sprawled across the bed.
But rather than the shattered shell he'd expected—someone sculpted by his cruelty—the girl looked thoroughly pleased. Her eyes were half-lidded and glazed, her cheeks flushed, lips curled into a sultry, satisfied smile.
Somehow, he felt like the one who'd been used. Violated, even.
A strange mix of shame and confusion twisted in his gut, and like some delicate damsel fleeing her ruin, he stormed out of the room, desperate to leave the humiliation behind.
But the hallway offered no reprieve.
Pitying eyes from nearby prostitutes met him from behind curtains and through open booths where others were still entangled with clients. That cocktail of grief and rage surged again, boiling in his veins, threatening to spill into flame and fury, to reduce everything in sight to ash.
And then he saw them.
Lyndoria.
Sophia.
And…
…Lumielle.
They were slipping out of the private wing—one that was supposed to be sealed off for a special event. Just before they concealed their faces beneath their hoods, Stynx caught a glimpse.
And in that moment, the once smoldering flame in his soul ignited like the sun. A face-splitting, deranged grin carved its way across his visage—sharp, rabid, and seething with malicious delight.