"Lady Rohanson is not a criminal, so everything is fine."
"How is she *not* a criminal? You, blinded by love, are incapable of assessing the situation correctly. I wonder how such a once-virtuous holy knight came to *this*."
The imperial knight mocked Gabriel, humiliating him with every word. Gabriel, however, regarded him with cold eyes and responded calmly.
"Apparently, I was simply overestimated before."
"Yes! It certainly looks that way! It seems my eyes were in the wrong place all along!"
With that, the knight refused to address Gabriel further. *He was clearly an admirer*, I thought. He was probably infuriated that his beloved idol had abandoned his duties and become mired in amorous intrigues. In a way, I could even understand him... but Gabriel didn't let the offended knight retreat in peace.
"Could you step outside for a moment? I wish to speak with the lady alone."
"You *do* understand you're under surveillance, don't you?" The knight's lip curled. "No, actually—have your *nice conversation*. I'll go report to Captain Musetta."
Now, in this knight's eyes, I had become a witch who had bewitched the holy knight, and Gabriel had become her accomplice who had betrayed his own beliefs.
The knight, seething with barely contained fury, strode out of the prison with his comrades. Gabriel watched their departure as if their proceedings were of no concern to him whatsoever, then calmly continued our conversation. It seemed he truly cared about nothing beyond his own people.
"Watching over you turned out to be useless."
"Well, when the lights went out, nothing could be seen anyway."
There had been so many people in the reception hall, yet in the darkness, no one had understood what was happening. Ah, speaking of the lights—I suddenly remembered something strange.
"When it went dark, I bumped into someone. I couldn't see anything, but the person immediately realized they'd collided with me. That's when the red stains appeared on my dress."
I hadn't spoken a single word, so they couldn't have recognized me by my voice. If I was deliberately stained with blood, perhaps this person was the culprit?
"Do you remember the voice?"
"Yes. It sounded like a teenage girl's."
That definitely didn't match Bishop Marik's voice. So she wasn't the culprit? And yet, because of the veil, I had suspected her.
Her relationship with Captain Musetta was clearly terrible, and probably with the Crown Prince as well—but would an exorcist kill someone simply out of dislike? Would she have the confidence to face a vengeful ghost if one came seeking retribution?
I also recalled the maid in the scarf, but she had been completely silent. That option was out of the question.
"The perpetrator may be closer than we think. For example—it could be Her Highness Jeremiah."
Gabriel didn't mention Bishop Marik, but someone else entirely. *Jeremiah*... the one with the green necklace, the one the Crown Prince had danced with until the very end? He wasn't referring to the bishop, but to the princess?
"Are you speaking of Her Highness the Princess?"
"Yes. We must consider all possibilities."
It was reassuring to know I was the only one ruled out. He believed I hadn't killed the Crown Prince, even though he hadn't been present. It was even a little touching... it seemed my efforts to win him over hadn't been in vain.
"The entrance to the reception hall was sealed, so no outsider could have entered. And since everything occurred in such a brief span of time, one cannot dismiss suspicions against Her Highness—she was closest of all."
Yet when I remembered how she had stood there, shocked by her father's death, frozen as if turned to stone while drops of blood fell unnoticed onto her face, it was difficult to imagine her as a criminal...
Still, as Gabriel said, Jeremiah had been in the most advantageous position. She had been closest to the Crown Prince. She would have had the easiest opportunity to steal the dagger. Until now, I had ruled her out only because they were father and daughter.
If Jeremiah was truly guilty, that meant Gabriel was uncovering the murder of his own brother, committed by his niece. Everywhere I looked, the imperial family resembled a real-life soap opera.
*Wait.* Did Gabriel even know the secret of his origins? He resembled the Crown Prince so closely that everyone must have noticed by now. Did *he* know?
To clear me of these charges, he would have to expose the fact that his niece had killed his brother. Perhaps I should tell him...?
While I wrestled with the thought, the conversation shifted direction. *If he shows up for our next date, I'll tell him then.* This was a shock for me as well, so I should let him prepare mentally first...
"Madame Toten and Hena have safely departed the palace. I've assigned Yuriel and my trusted knights to guard them." Gabriel hesitated. "However, your coachman, Lady Rohanson..."
The coachman? He must have meant the beastman who had replaced Melek.
"He was found with his head severed. It seems the criminal who framed you was careful not to leave you any means of escape."
So whoever had framed Evangeline had anticipated her possible flight and eliminated the coachman! *No, Uncle Coachman!* He had died because of me, even though he'd only come to help. He had simply been filling in as a replacement today, at Jelly's request...
The guilt swelled in my chest. I hadn't even officially hired him—how could I tell his family about his death? I needed to inform Jelly... I didn't know how many people had died today. Even if this was just a novel, my heart was uneasy.
Gabriel continued explaining what was happening beyond these walls, but soon the imperial knight returned and remarked with acid sarcasm that it was time to stop *chatting with the criminal*. Gabriel had no choice but to rise.
"I will do everything in my power to secure your release."
Gabriel departed, and almost immediately—as if in a relay race—the investigators appeared and began their interrogation. I must have repeated a hundred times that I hadn't killed the Crown Prince before they finally left me alone.
It wasn't until late at night that I was truly by myself. After confirming no one was nearby, I quietly called out:
"Jelly."
"Yes."
The answer emerged from the void. *He was here!* My trump card! Teleportation was the perfect way to maintain my composure in the face of an uncertain future that might end in execution! If worst came to worst, I would simply take his hand and run.
"I was wondering when you would finally call."
It seemed he had been waiting. I had sent word through Pudding to come when summoned. But why was he alone?
"And Pudding?"
"He's reflecting on his own worthlessness. What exactly did he accomplish by sneaking in here, disguised beyond recognition?"
Jelly chuckled softly, mocking Pudding. *How petty!* A little cat had transformed into a human and infiltrated the palace to protect me—even if the results were meager, he deserved praise for his efforts!
I hadn't recognized him at first either; I'd only noticed his face. But the second time, once I had grown somewhat accustomed to his unusual appearance, I spotted the collar. It was my own handiwork. It was surprising I hadn't realized immediately.
"People are truly remarkable. To seize my mistress... well, no—in this case, you *allowed* yourself to be seized."
Jelly snapped his fingers, and the dreary cell was transformed. A bed appeared. A sofa. Even a fireplace—leaving only the iron bars as a reminder of imprisonment. A veritable prison hotel.
"Kanna mentioned that if you feel cold and uncomfortable, you should arrange everything properly..." He tilted his head. "But you probably still feel uneasy. Perhaps you should teleport home to sleep and then return?"
Honestly, I wanted to jump to the Rohansons' mansion and back—but if anyone came and found an empty cell, they would assume I had escaped. Better to let them be astonished by the furniture that had materialized from nowhere.
When I said I would stay, Jelly even produced a change of clothes. I handed him the blood-stained dress. *Misa will be horrified when she sees it...* The cloak Gabriel had given me remained draped around my shoulders; I decided to keep using it. When I mentioned I was hungry, Jelly soon returned with dinner.
After finishing a late meal in prison—*how absurd that sounded*—I spoke quietly:
"Jelly, about the coachman who drove the carriage today. We should probably inform his family."
An acquaintance had died because of my affairs. Jelly had every right to be angry. But he replied calmly, finishing his sherbet:
"Do you mean the official death registration? You needn't worry—it's already been handled."
*What?* How? Jelly, wagging his tail, continued:
"It turns out he had two families."
*Uncle Coachman was quite the womanizer!* His wife, who had known about his infidelities and turned a blind eye for years, had recently noticed her husband wasn't returning home. Realizing he had maintained another household, she had grown furious and registered his death herself. Apparently, she had even arranged a funeral—so the neighbors believed he was already deceased.
I should have guessed it when he was sharing stories with Jelly and Daisy. It seemed Uncle Coachman had simply adored love triangles.
"You see? Sometimes those who had reason to die simply... die. Quite naturally."
"Yes, probably."
Of course, the shock of his death remaining connected to me lingered, but the guilt had eased somewhat. Since I had arrived in this world, I had witnessed death more than once or twice. In a society with such a rigid hierarchy, such things would happen often. I simply needed to grow accustomed to it.
"Any other assignments?"
It seemed Jelly was attempting to console me so I wouldn't dwell on guilt. Before, he had only ever been lazy—but now he was volunteering to help. Then I remembered I truly did have a request.
"Could you pick some cherry blossoms from the garden and feed them to Melek? And look after Madame Toten while you're at it?"
"Can I have Pudding?"
"Go together."
"...Fine."
Jelly, apparently not expecting me to actually agree, puffed out his cheeks and reluctantly acquiesced.
---
## — Flauros —
The nest that Flauros had so carefully built remained without its owner.
All because Flauros had failed in his role. He couldn't properly deal with Astaroth and had been forced to watch, with all three of his eyes, as the knights led Lady Evangeline away.
He wanted to immediately tear apart everything that had touched her body. He wanted to cut out the tongues that had insulted her and use them to fertilize the fields. He wanted to pluck out the eyes that had looked at her sideways and hang them in garlands like fruit in an orchard.
> "Sit still until I call you, Pudding."
And he refrained from all of this only because Lady Evangeline did not wish it.
He revered her so deeply that he was willing to endure. To suppress his growing hunger and murderous urges while continuing to live among humans. He could even tolerate being called by such a humiliatingly simple name as *Pudding*. He had transformed himself into a cat, allowing himself to be held and petted. He had desperately sought love.
Such devotion was admirable. Pitiful and touching. In the end, he had limited himself to mere affection and sacrificed all his pride.
And after abstaining from human flesh for so long, it was no wonder Flauros had grown weaker than Astaroth.