“Still no news today?”
“Yes, my lord. I checked again, but there’s been no letter from Lady Diana.”
“Tsk… Fine. Go.”
Chesif clicked his tongue, making no effort to hide his irritation.
Diana had gone to the Laufe Duchy with the High Priest, just as he’d instructed. He had told her to send a report once a day without fail. Yet it had already been three days since her last letter.
He pressed his fingers against his throbbing temples.
“Can’t she ever do anything properly?”
Replace her? The thought always came, then faded quickly. Diana might be frustrating and dim-witted, but she was the perfect puppet for display.
A beauty like a flower in full bloom, a body brimming with Divine Power great enough to be considered for sainthood, and a narrow, greedy personality that made her easy to manipulate.
If she ascends to sainthood without trouble, she’ll be even more useful.
With her at the forefront, he could seize control of the temple itself. That would mean absolute power—even the Imperial Family wouldn’t dare interfere.
The High Priest was a minor nuisance, but… he was only human. No one could defy the march of time. Chesif was certain the old man didn’t have long left.
But what thrilled him more than anything was—
Justyn Laufe.
That slow-witted puppet did his bidding while holding the leash of that damned Duke. To drag down a man forsaken by God yet still clinging to his pride—there could be no sweeter satisfaction.
Yes.
The irritation that had risen so sharply now melted away. Waiting a little longer was nothing.
He had no doubt the ending would fall in his favor.
But a sudden turn soon shattered that certainty.
“A veterinarian?”
“Yes, my lord. It seems he once visited the Duke’s estate to examine an animal. He even caused a disturbance trying to break into the mansion.”
Tok, tok—Chesif’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden desk.
He’d kept the townhouse under surveillance even after the Duke had left the capital, just in case something surfaced. He’d been about to pull back when this fish landed in his net.
“Bring him in.”
A mere veterinarian couldn’t possibly know anything worthwhile, but Chesif gave the order on instinct, almost compulsively.
That decision would create ripples he hadn’t anticipated.
“…A Beastkin?”
That was the information his aide brought back. The veterinarian, realizing he was speaking to someone from House Marilon, had blurted out in a fevered voice:
“I have valuable information! Please, let me see the Marquess! It’s about a Beastkin! A real Beastkin!”
And he’d done it in the middle of a crowded street.
Dragged away for questioning, the man spilled his tale. He’d received an old book from an acquaintance; inside were detailed records of Beastkin. Every one of those traits matched the Duke’s pet exactly.
“A Beastkin, a being thought to exist only in legends—if it’s real, it’ll bring astronomical fortune!”
The aide remembered those eyes, glittering with grotesque greed, and cautiously offered his own opinion.
“My lord… he seemed unstable. If you approach recklessly, you might—”
“You dare… order me?”
“M-my apologies!”
Chesif scoffed at his subordinate’s cowardice. Approach recklessly and risk harm?
No.
His eyes shimmered with a strange gleam. That same instinct that had always carried him higher whispered ceaselessly—
The Beastkin was real.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
Chesif erupted in raucous laughter.
The longer it went on, the paler his aide grew. Who could stay calm with their master laughing like a madman before them?
And the aide knew from long experience—that laughter only ever came when Chesif was in a foul mood.
“…”
As the aide swallowed dryly, Chesif abruptly stopped laughing.
“A Beastkin… you said it was a Beastkin.”
He wasn’t a fool.
He might have dismissed Diana’s whining as trivial, but his sharp memory recalled her words perfectly.
“Duke Laufe had a cat named Strawberry.”
Yes—that was it.
The little creature that had fled Diana’s estate and settled by Justyn Laufe’s side. She had wept bitterly as she begged him to do something, but Chesif had thought it beneath his notice.
Now he understood.
The animal the Duke had summoned a veterinarian for—the one the man claimed was a Beastkin—was that very creature.
He began chuckling again. Wealth, power, everything he might have seized had slipped through his hands without him even realizing. It was so laughable it hurt.
Chesif rubbed his face with both hands, then called out to his aide in a voice rough with strain.
“You there.”
“Y-yes, my lord!”
“Bring that veterinarian to me. At once.”
“Yes, my lord!”
At the lethal tone, the aide bolted from the office.
Left alone, Chesif thought to himself.
That creature had first been his. Naturally, he would reclaim it. And then? He would punish the insolent kitten who had dared to deceive him and run.
“How dare you?”
Deceived him? Run from him? If the creature returned safely, he could overlook such things.
But to have fled, only to end up at Justyn Laufe’s side—that was unforgivable. His head burned hot with unquenchable fury.
Yet he calmly organized his plan. First, squeeze the information from the veterinarian. Then take that “old book” from his acquaintance as well.
…But his plan stumbled right at the start.
“…We failed to secure him.”
“My ears must be deceiving me. I’ll give you one more chance to repeat that.”
“M-my apologies! We tried to track him, but all traces were cut off. According to inquiries, men from the Imperial Family took him away…”
Haa—Chesif let out a heavy breath.
The Imperial Family. He mouthed the word again and again, before his temper burst. He slammed his fist down on the desk.
KWOOM! The solid wood shattered beneath the strength of a knight commander.
At last, his doubt vanished.
“Damn bastards… They beat me to it?”
The Imperial Family was on the move. That alone proved the creature really was a Beastkin.
They’d recognized its existence and acted quickly to secure it. Chesif ground his teeth.
For a moment, the same obsessive gleam Diana once showed flickered in his eyes—before vanishing like a snuffed candle.
***
The next day, Ries lingered around the temple entourage as they prepared to depart. Amid the bustle, he noticed one figure sitting off to the side, sunk low.
Hm.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t shown up to breakfast either.
He smacked his lips in faint disappointment. He’d thought about sneaking in a slap when the chance arose—not out of personal spite, of course, but to help break Justyn’s curse.
Maybe he should try now? But given the strange air around her, even that seemed ill-timed.
“I’ll help too.”
“Eh? Oh, no, Lady Diana. This is our work to carry.”
“Still—”
“Lady Diana, what are you doing? Please, leave this to us and rest.”
The clerics stopped Diana when she tried to step forward.
Their eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers, their voices were stiff, their politeness almost exaggerated. Somehow they seemed even more distant than yesterday.
In the end, Diana couldn’t do a thing and retreated awkwardly, as though some invisible wall had risen between her and the rest.
Perhaps she felt it too. She bit her lips so hard it looked painful. Ries quietly watched.
Not surprising.
She had shouted at the banquet host to his face, and openly shown disdain for the High Priest—sometimes subtly, more often brazenly.
And all of it, every last incident, had stemmed from a single cat. Ries still remembered the stunned faces when that truth dawned on them.
No wonder their attitude had shifted.
…But isn’t this her own doing?
She was only reaping the consequences of speaking without thought. Even seeing her slumped and dejected, not a trace of sympathy stirred in him.
Besides, there was something else nearby catching more of his attention.
Ries rolled his eyes sideways. Not far away, the wrinkled old man himself was trying to help with the luggage. The clerics fussed around him for an entirely different reason.
“High Priest, please! You’ll strain your back!”
“Ho-ho, I’ll be fine. I may look frail, but I’m still spry.”
“We saw you strain it last time and sneak a treatment afterward!”
“You—what? You saw that? Ahem.”
On the surface, nothing looked more peaceful.
But just hearing that familiar voice stirred Ries’s tangled thoughts.
The man knew he was a Beastkin. He had even noticed that Justyn’s curse had eased—and admitted it outright.
“If you’re worried, don’t be. No one else will recognize it.”
If not for those words, Ries would have been forced to hide from every cleric he saw. At least that much was a relief.
these freaks???
justyn laufe, i think it’s time to establish a new imperial family.