Web
"The Fox had been caught by a spider."
The Duke's Estate
The Regent's carriage departed for the royal palace at dawn and returned only after sunset.
"Father, you've returned? Please, give me the pardon document. I'll deliver it to the prison immediately."
Samon harbored no doubt that Medea would affix her seal to save the Minister.
His father's silence, however, gave him pause.
"Father...?"
"Did she refuse?"
"No, that's not quite—"
"Then what?"
Unable to contain his impatience, Samon seized the scroll from his father's hands and unfurled it.
Empty.
The space where the Royal Seal should have been remained utterly blank.
The Regent's voice broke the stunned silence.
"She asked for a bribe."
Samon's bewildered gaze snapped up.
"A bribe? That fool?"
"Yes. That very fool."
"She demanded I fill thirty chests with gold."
"Thirty?!"
"Has Medea lost her mind?"
"She must have grown greedy watching Cuisine hoard wealth. Now, having tasted the luxury of her new lifestyle, she's forgotten her own limitations."
"..."
Samon touched his chin, lost in thought.
Medea was stupid, yes.
Emotionally weak, therefore foolish.
But greedy?
Money had never motivated her before.
Questions circled in his mind:
What has changed?
This isn't like Medea.
Why suddenly?
Why now?
While Samon remained lost in contemplation, Claudio clapped his son's shoulder.
"Regardless, this isn't entirely bad for us. If she moves for money, doesn't that mean money is all she needs?"
Etienne's crimes were dangerously entangled with military law—charges grave enough to make anyone hesitate.
No one from the Regent's faction rushed to his aid, fearing their own sins might surface in the process.
Unless someone possessed the naïveté of a Princess, no one would leap to save the Minister without considering the consequences.
Thus, Medea's demands had to be met—somehow.
"The problem," Samon said carefully, "is securing thirty chests."
Filling thirty chests with gold bars exceeded even the Regent's considerable resources.
"Excluding the slush funds earmarked for the rebels and Ossoff, the maximum liquid capital our family can currently access is approximately five chests."
"Only five?"
The Regent frowned deeply. It was far less than anticipated.
"Yes. The military funds for the rebels were already sent late due to scheduling conflicts. Additionally, we've yet to recover the costs of the recent banquet."
Damn it.
The Regent bit his lip hard enough to taste copper.
The rebels. The banquet.
All of it because of Medea.
His teeth ground together at the bitter irony:
Forced to repay money to the very person who had drained resources that once flowed as freely as water.
"Father, we cannot shoulder the entire burden of saving the Minister alone."
Samon's eyes sharpened with calculation.
"The Minister himself and his subordinates must contribute. After all, they profited alongside him."
Samon ran the numbers mentally.
"It won't be an impossible sum if we scrape together contributions from various sources."
"I understand. I'll communicate this to the Minister immediately."
Claudio departed to contact the Minister, who awaited news of his rescue with desperate eagerness.
The Princess's Palace
After Duke Claudio's departure, Saya approached hesitantly.
"Your Highness, if Duke Claudio truly arrives with thirty chests filled with gold... will you really release the Minister?"
Saya couldn't fathom it.
Why should our Highness save Etienne—that pig of a man?
Even with her limited political literacy, Saya could predict the catastrophic repercussions.
The people currently denouncing Etienne with righteous fury would turn that same vitriol upon the Princess.
She prayed her kind mistress wouldn't fall for the Duke's dark machinations—asking his own young niece, his own blood, to clean up after such a vile creature.
"Never."
"Then... why did you make such a demand?"
Medea's lips curved into a subtle smile.
"My uncle will be extremely busy preparing thirty chests to keep the Minister alive—at least temporarily."
Therefore, the Regent had been presented with a sum he couldn't possibly raise alone.
As he scrambles frantically to secure the impossible funds, he'll naturally have less time to carefully monitor the Minister languishing in prison.
And now, the Minister cannot escape anywhere.
"Out of sight,
out of mind."
But would the Minister, isolated and alone in his cell, recognize the Regent's frantic efforts on his behalf?
Given his suspicious nature, wouldn't he instead suspect the Duke was plotting something sinister during his absence?
"Neril, inform Cesare to visit the prison."
The time had come to plant the spark of doubt.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Medea intended to test how long the trust between Minister and Regent—which had seemed unbreakable in her previous life—could truly endure.
"Your Highness, Umberto is waiting. I will bring him when you're ready."
Medea nodded.
The Interrogation Room
"Mmm..."
Umberto regained consciousness with a groan.
'Where am I?'
He attempted to move, only to discover thick rope binding his body immobile.
'What happened? Who captured me?'
Umberto searched his fragmented memories.
He'd succeeded in escaping Count Etienne's estate undetected during the Royal Knights' chaotic raid.
'I was heading toward the headquarters' rendezvous point. Then...'
Thud.
The dull pain at the base of his skull was his last memory.
I can't believe I missed the warning signs.
Damn it—I was so exhilarated watching that pathetic toad get dragged away that I let my guard down for just a moment.
Umberto bit his lip, realizing he'd been ambushed.
I knew a day like this might come while living under false pretenses. I just never imagined it would be now.
Step. Step.
Footsteps echoed.
The tightly sealed door opened.
Umberto straightened his back.
'Two people. One has heavy footsteps—a knight? The other... the rustle of fabric being dragged. A woman?'
The scrape of a chair being pulled.
One of the two sat down.
No one spoke first.
'Damn. I can only infer from sound.'
The hood covering his head had gaps too narrow to see through clearly.
He could only sense, through vague impressions filtered through rough fabric, that someone sat before him.
"Ugh!"
The hood was ripped away in one swift motion.
Light stabbed painfully into his eyes.
Umberto winced, blinking rapidly.
As his vision gradually adjusted to the brightness, he could finally see clearly the person seated before him.
A girl in a black dress stared at Umberto.
Silver hair cascading like moonlight.
Bright green eyes, sharp and knowing.
Skin pale and flawless as porcelain.
A solid, aristocratic jawline.
Somehow, her face seemed familiar.
Umberto had seen this girl very recently.
Where?
Before he could even formulate the question in his mind, his eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Pr—Princess...?!"
The Princess set down her fan and greeted him.
"It's been a while, Umberto."
Her tone was remarkably friendly, as if addressing a close acquaintance.
"Do you know me?"
'It's been a while? Did I meet the Princess of Valdina before?'
The Red Foxes had already determined there were no useful targets among Valdina's royal family, which was why they'd embedded him with Minister Etienne instead.
The organization's assessment had been clear:
"The Queen Mother has been secluded for years. Not only is it difficult to insert a spy, but she's retreated so far from power that infiltrating her circle offers minimal benefit despite the risk."
"Regent Claudio has already allied with Katzen's high-ranking officials. Approaching him without knowing the full picture risks exposing our entire organization."
"And the Princess of Valdina..."
"She's not even worth the effort of adding a spy."
The dull Princess, whose presence wielded no influence over political affairs, had never even been considered worthy of their attention.
'Their judgment has never been wrong.'
Yet here, mocking that very judgment,
the supposedly foolish Princess of Valdina
sat before him now,
comfortable and friendly, as if greeting an old friend.
"Do I... know you?"
The Spider Weaves ## Every Piece in Place
A duke scrambles for gold he'll never pay. A minister sits alone, doubt festering. And a fox realizes he's been hunting the wrong prey all along.
[ To Be Continued ]
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