The night he learned the shocking truth, Ries—despite the flood of restless thoughts crashing through his mind—succumbed to his body’s instincts and fell fast asleep.
By the time he opened his eyes again, most of the storm had already passed.
Justyn had discovered the ledgers and documents left conspicuously on the desk and carefully sifted through them. In doing so, he uncovered everything Count Averitt had done while hiding behind the authority of Acting Head, as well as the disgraceful crimes of several retainers who had secretly supported him.
With Ketir already conducting his own discreet investigation, their schemes were completely exposed before the sun had even reached its peak.
“Eeek! Let go of me! I said, let me go! You know damn well who I am, and you dare lay hands on me?!”
“This is by His Grace the Duke’s order. Please cooperate with the investigation until the charges are cleared.”
“Ch–charges? What crime could I possibly have committed?! Call Justyn here right now! I’ll speak to him myself! Justyn! Justyyyn! This is all a misunderstanding, I swear! Listen to your uncle—please!”
Not far away, his shrill voice tore through the halls, screeching like a pig being slaughtered.
A few heavy thuds followed, then the noise gradually faded. Judging from the sound, his resistance hadn’t lasted long; he was dragged away in disgrace.
As expected, Count Averitt had been caught completely off guard, still deep in sleep when the raid began. His voice had been thick with panic and disbelief.
Because of him, the ducal estate had been in an uproar since early morning. Embezzling the family’s funds and falsifying ledgers were grave crimes, and the fact that half a dozen retainers had carried them out in collusion meant the matter would be anything but minor.
Worse still, many retainers had delayed their return until this morning after the late meeting yesterday. So when nearly all the key figures of the house were gathered, a massive scandal erupted in full view.
“So you’re awake.”
That must have been why Justyn only offered a quick morning greeting before rushing off to the emergency meeting.
“I’ve ended up in your debt again. I have so many questions, but… they’ll have to wait. I won’t let your efforts be wasted.”
It was just like him: staying by Ries’s side until he woke, and even making sure to leave behind words of gratitude.
Still… so he found out.
Ries had expected it. After all, ledgers and documents that hadn’t existed suddenly appearing overnight—of course suspicion would follow.
What amazed him was not that Justyn suspected, but that he accepted everything without hesitation, and even thanked him so earnestly.
As Ries stretched out all four legs and rolled lazily across the bed, smacking his lips, he suddenly felt a pair of eyes fixed on him.
“……”
Melissa.
His gaze wavered awkwardly. It felt like all the mistakes he’d been trying to ignore were suddenly shoved right back in his face.
At least Justyn hadn’t punished her too harshly—she was still at her post. But perhaps because she was desperate to make up for yesterday’s failure, her face was unusually stiff, her posture rigid and disciplined.
Since Ries had played a large part in that mistake as well, the guilt made him just as uncomfortable.
He rose quietly and padded toward her. Normally he would have made it obvious that he wanted her to stroke him, but this time he only cast her lingering, wistful looks, not even making a move to reach out his paw.
“Myaang. Myaaow.”
Stretching out his front paw, he rolled over and flicked it enticingly. The soft pink pads, as expected, snared Melissa’s eyes at once.
Her expression rippled. Pressing her lips together again and again, she finally spoke in a choked voice.
“Lord Ries… To think you’d offer such a sweet comfort to someone like me, who’s so lacking, foolish, and utterly useless…”
She closed her eyes tight, then opened them again, now lit with grim determination.
“This time, I’ll guard your side without a single mistake. I won’t let so much as an ant draw near!”
Her clenched fist embodied her vow. Then, in a quieter voice, she added:
“…Would it be alright if I postponed the glorious honor of touching Lord Ries’s paw until after I’ve completed my duty?”
Please. The desperate plea rang unspoken in the air. She must have been unwilling to give up this chance.
Ries gave a generous nod. For a sincere apology, he could spare that much time.
The two knights assigned alongside her shot Melissa weary looks, but judging by their lack of surprise, they’d seen this routine before. Ries let it slide.
Still…
There are more of them now.
Rolling his eyes, Ries inspected the new knights. Both were unfamiliar faces.
Since Justyn had chosen them, they were surely reliable—but Ries could see the intent behind the decision clearly enough.
This was Justyn’s way of telling him not to attempt another escape. It was a quiet plea: Trust me this time. Wait for me.
Not that I was planning to leave anyway.
Yesterday had been the right opportunity to peer into the retainers’ hearts.
But today was different. He’d already handed everything over. All that remained was to wait for the matter to be resolved. The thought left him feeling oddly sheepish.
He hopped back onto the bed and settled down, folding his paws neatly beneath him in the familiar “loaf” posture. The position filled him with an easy calm, body and mind.
Even so, his thoughts wandered on their own. Thinking of Justyn brought back those warm, gentle eyes, and with them, the conversation he’d had yesterday with Sefiut.
Edler Laufe. The former Head of the ducal house. Justyn’s father. And very likely… one who had joined in his abuse.
Ries had seen him only once, but even that memory tangled uneasily in his chest. Just the thought that he was living under the same roof as Justyn left a sour taste.
That must have been why Sefiut had looked so unsettled when recalling the ghost’s true identity. Ries slipped one paw free and tapped lightly at the doll resting neatly beside him.
“As I thought…”
“The Spirit Beast… just as the rumors say…”
A whisper he couldn’t ignore drifted through the room. Ries spun around toward the source.
“Meoowng?”
Were they talking about him?
The two knights were muttering, covering their mouths as if to keep the words hidden. But the way they stiffened the moment their eyes met his only made them more suspicious.
Slowly, Ries rose and hopped down from the bed, padding around the room in a leisurely circle. The sound of their nervous gulps carried clearly to his ears.
Melissa finally stepped in to break the tension.
“Lord Ries, please don’t take offense. These idiots may be dumber and more rigid than I am, but they’re not the sort who’d slander the one they’re guarding.”
Hard to say whether she was defending them or insulting them. Either way, he hadn’t been offended at all.
“The truth is, since this morning a strange rumor’s been spreading among the servants and knights.”
A rumor?
Her words drew Ries’s attention, his ears twitching upright of their own accord.
“They say the doll Lord Ries always carries around is actually a fairy!”
“….?”
What kind of ridiculous nonsense was that?
Half-lidded eyes studied Melissa, then flicked toward the knights.
And then it hit him—
…They were serious.
***
“Damn it!”
Count Averitt stomped the ground in rage, his fury boiling over. The cell was narrow and freezing, so stiflingly cramped that there wasn’t even anything decent to hurl across the room.
He paced restlessly, unable to stay still, like a beast prowling its cage. His nails, gnawed raw for some time already, were shredded and bloody.
“Until the charges are cleared, cooperate with the investigation?” Ha! What a joke. They’re already treating me like a criminal! It has to be—the ledgers ended up in that brat’s hands…!
The night before, Averitt had scrambled to erase every trace of his misdeeds.
Skimming from the family coffers, funneling money into black-market deals, hosting fellow nobles at the ducal estate for regular gambling, pocketing bribes in exchange for appointments—
There was more, but those were the urgent ones. And he’d been confident he could cover them.
His retainers, too entangled to withdraw, were supposed to help buy him time. A day or two—no, even a single night to cloud Justyn’s eyes would have been enough.
But when fatigue overcame him and he let himself doze off for just a moment…
He woke to a chill crawling down his spine and the gut-wrenching realization that every shred of hope had evaporated.
Gone… everything’s gone! Damn it, where the hell did they go?!
The documents he had been working on, the ledgers he’d hidden and shifted between secret caches—all of them had vanished without a trace. As if a ghost had swept through his chambers overnight.
He’d ransacked the room, desperate to find them, but soon realized the truth. His only option was to run.
Because if those ledgers and documents had really fallen into his nephew’s hands…
That was the end. He’d be locked in the ducal estate’s frigid underground prison, never again to see the sun.
But by the time he understood, it was far too late. He hadn’t even made it past the estate’s gates before Justyn’s knights cornered and seized him.
And now—he was here. Treated like a criminal, trapped behind bars, forced to wait in humiliation for his nephew’s judgment.
He bit down hard on his already bleeding nails, the bitter taste of iron on his tongue.
Should I wait, hoping the retainers who sided with me step in? No. Those parasites won’t bleed themselves for my sake. They’ll abandon me without hesitation.
He had gathered men cut from the same cloth as himself—but he neither saw it, nor wished to.
Every escape route seemed sealed. Yet one possibility still glimmered.
The chief steward. That bastard might still be able to open a way out.
Unlike the retainers, greedy and complacent, the steward knew how precarious his position was.
A commoner who had clawed his way up to chief steward thanks to Averitt’s backing, strutting about drunk on the power he’d been given—if Averitt fell, his absence would leave the man utterly exposed.
Yes, if coaxed, the steward might smuggle him out. That became his resolve.
CRASH! The cell door swung open with a violent clang, the sound of many footsteps echoing in.
“Y-your Grace! To treat me this way—it was I who stole the Count’s ledgers and handed them straight to His Grace the Duke!”
The words—that voice—were ones Averitt should never have heard. His blood ran cold as the sound drew nearer. He pressed himself against the bars, straining to see.
“…You bat-faced bastard! How dare you betray me?!”
His roar shook the cell.
The man he had pinned his last hopes on now stood before him, no better than a mangy cur.
