Mess 177

177.

While the family was away, the Loria estate was kept immaculate by the servants.

The gardens, adorned with vibrant seasonal flowers, seemed to await praise from the returning family.

But despite the staff’s efforts, those who returned offered not a word of compliment. The lady of the house and her son came back as cold corpses, shrouded in silence.

The one who returned alive—Count Loria—was no different.

In the end, instead of a welcome-home celebration, a funeral was held in the beautifully maintained Loria estate.

Many attended the funeral, which took place in the estate’s annex. Most of them found Seraphie’s presence rather puzzling.

“There certainly are a lot of people here.”

If not for the somber attire, it might have been mistaken for a bustling social gathering.

“Are funerals usually this crowded?”

“Typically, only close family and friends are invited.”

This was unusual; even Orchis, accompanying her, sensed something off.

“In the case of a renowned family’s funeral, there can be a large turnout…”

“But Loria isn’t particularly famous.”

Seraphie had done some research—nothing about the Loria family stood out. Even after she’d entered noble society, she’d heard little about them.

As she pondered, one corner of Seraphie’s mouth twitched upward.

“…In any case, really.”

How unspeakably vile.

No doubt, there were those here truly mourning the dead and recalling memories with them.

But the rest had come because of rumors swirling around Count Loria—suspecting what events might be connected to him and wanting to see for themselves.

It was reminiscent of the affair surrounding the Kia family’s deaths—the same misfortune had now befallen Count Loria, once a chief suspect himself.

Indeed, even a brief listen revealed rumors circulating:

“What a tragic fate.”

“And in a manner so reminiscent of that case…”

“Certainly strange.”

“It’s already been five years since that incident…”

At least, when people realized Seraphie was in attendance, their idle gossip fell silent.

Seraphie and Orchis joined the end of the line for the floral tributes.

“Was it really necessary for us to come?”

Orchis asked in a low voice.

“Not at all.”

Seraphie replied as she watched the line ahead of them slowly shorten. People were placing farewell flowers into the three open caskets.

There was great variety—red roses, white lilies, yellow freesias, pale purple lisianthus, even branches with fresh green leaves.

“…But there’s something I need to confirm.”

Seraphie whispered so only Orchis could hear.

It wasn’t long before it was their turn. The line soon came to an end as the people ahead placed their flowers and stepped back.

Seraphie and Orchis placed their flowers, beginning with the casket on the left, and paid their respects. The Countess’s casket lay at the center, flanked on either side by her sons.

‘They still look as if they might be alive.’

Seraphie swallowed dryly.

It was only her second time seeing dead bodies. She could not grow accustomed; a cold shiver traced her spine.

Steeling herself, she searched for anything unusual.

‘No marks of strangulation…’

She wasn’t an expert—who was she to discern the cause of death by sight alone? Yet she could find nothing obviously suspicious.

‘Perhaps the Count took care of it in advance.’

With nothing to show for her efforts, Seraphie turned away.

“Count Validus.”

As they sought out empty seats, a voice hailed them from behind.

“Marquess Castine!”

“May I sit with you?”

“Of course.”

The Marquess of Castine took a seat beside Seraphie and exchanged greetings with both her and Orchis.

“I heard you’ve just returned from holiday?”

“Batisa asked me to pass on her regards.”

“How is my daughter doing?”

“Did you know she cut her hair short?”

At this, the Marquess heaved a deep sigh.

“One day, a box arrived, and inside it was a thick bundle of my daughter’s hair.”

Upon seeing it, the Marchioness fainted on the spot, and the Marquess himself nearly reported a kidnapping, fearing something terrible had happened to his daughter.

“If I hadn’t found the note tucked beneath the hair—just a blithe message asking us to keep it as a souvenir of her new haircut—I might have lost my mind.”

Just remembering that impudent message was enough to make him sit bolt upright in the middle of the night.

‘Are all Seraphie’s friends like this?’

They’re all strange, one way or another.

Orchis, listening in silence, quietly sympathized with the Marquess and was quietly impressed by Seraphie’s influence.

“By the way, I didn’t expect the Count to invite you.”

The Marquess spoke cautiously.

“There was an invitation.”

“An invitation?”

“Yes, one requesting my presence at the funeral.”

“……”

A chill settled in the Marquess’s gaze.

“…That reminds me.”

Seraphie gave a gentle smile.

“I almost forgot—Batisa asked me to deliver something to you. I’ll send it to your estate later.”

“Then I’ll be waiting. As it happens, there’s a book I’d like to recommend to the Count—just as well.”

A short while later, the Marquess’s wife rejoined them after leaving her own tribute.

The Marchioness greeted Seraphie and Orchis warmly, her eyes glistening. She and the late Countess Loria had apparently been close.

‘…But where is the Count?’

Seraphie looked around the funeral.

“Seraphie.”

Orchis nodded in one direction.

There, in the midst of those offering condolences, stood a man with a gaunt impression. Despite being surrounded, his face was tightly drawn.

His light brown hair, slightly faded, was slicked back. His sorrowful eyes carried a strange, hollow emptiness.

In the instant she took in his face—

“……”

Seraphie seized Orchis’s hand.

“Kiss, let’s go now…”

“That would be best.”

The Marquess agreed, subtly nodding toward a group of nobles loyal to the Crown Prince—Baron Catio, and even the now notorious Count Baglosa.

They would hardly welcome Seraphie’s presence. Indeed, a number of them exchanged quiet, suspicious glances in her direction.

“If you’ll excuse us.”

After a polite farewell to the Marquess and Marchioness, Seraphie and Orchis departed the Loria estate.

“…Are you all right?”

Only after they were in the carriage did Orchis ask her what had happened. Seraphie’s hand, which had gripped his so tightly a moment ago, was clammy with sweat—and she was visibly trembling.

Seraphie shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Even she could not fathom her feelings.

The moment she saw those eyes—as dark and unfathomable as the depths of the sea—her heart plummeted. She felt an inexplicable terror.

“Kiss.”

But there was one thing she was sure of.

“That—wasn’t a person.”

“You mean Count Loria?”

“When I first met the Crown Prince or Marquess Iris, there was something recognizably human about them, at least some effort to mimic a person…”

Count Loria was different.

That man was fundamentally something else.

---

The day after the funeral.

“Pura!”

Seraphie was reunited with Pura. Though exhausted after weeks apart, Pura’s face was wreathed in smiles.

“You’ve found something, haven’t you?”

Pura flashed white teeth.

“I have.”

At last, she’d located the place where Glake was believed to be. Seraphie, overcome with emotion, threw her arms around Pura.

“That’s wonderful news…!”

“Still, it’s too early to be certain.”

Though Seraphie nearly wept, Pura remained clearheaded.

“I only managed a cursory investigation. Without you nearby, I couldn’t risk a misstep—it could have been disastrous.”

Though she surely missed her kin more than anyone, Pura was able to make calm, prudent decisions.

Seraphie immediately summoned a maid to prepare a meal.

“You must be starving, right? I’ll have all your favorites made, just wait.”

“I do love a wealthy mistress.”

While the meal was being prepared, Pura recounted what she’d learned.

“I think I understand why that killer became Crown Prince.”

His every movement was meticulously recorded.

From the time he woke each day, to what foods he ate, clothes he wore, books he read, even the number of times he visited the garden.

“X was a big help.”

“Don’t go tossing around the Third Prince’s name.”

“He keeps pestering me to call him by it, you know. I swear he really likes me.”

Though Pura was perfectly serious, Seraphie paid her no mind.

“Anyway, I tracked a suspicious route.”

X had obtained the records of the last three years and given them to Pura, who sifted through the movements, focusing on routines that repeated with unusual regularity.

After several days—

“One of them was the Crown Prince’s walking path.”

There was a forest trail he would take for air.

“It was a very secluded path.”

Pura went there herself.

She walked the trail as he had, surveying the area, checking what lay at the trail’s end, and watching for people or carriages passing through.

There, she found an oddity.

“There are noble estates along the way.”

“Who lives there?”

On the map Seraphie spread out, Pura put her finger on a spot. It was the northwest quarter of the noble district.

“There’s a side lane that connects to the back gate of one of the houses.”

“What noble family?”

“Tee… Teephae…”

Tifeon, maybe?

At her muttering, Seraphie sighed deeply.

“You know the place?”

“One of the ladies I once caught bad-mouthing me was from Tifeon.”

Seraphie sighed again, rubbing her forehead.

With Baglosa brought down, the bigger prey would be lying low. So there had to be someone else moving in their stead. She’d been so focused on Loria, she’d forgotten this key point.

“Not even worth writing insults on paper…”

Pura, plainly unimpressed, continued.

“But the Crown Prince stopped using that route after last autumn.”

Seraphie nodded; she’d expected as much. After the Iris rebellion, the Crown Prince completely avoided that route.

“Nothing special at the end of the trail?”

“There’s a city gate leading directly out of the capital.”

“We’ll need a list of merchants using that path.”

“Already taken care of.”

Pura shrugged and pulled a slip of paper from her pocket.

A list of trading companies using that rarely traveled road.

“……”

Seraphie’s gaze narrowed as she studied the paper.

“What? Something strange?”

“No, it’s just…”

There was only one reason she hesitated. There were three trading companies listed.

Mars, Gramene, and Rodo.

She’d already known about Mars. She and Runi had uncovered evidence of child trafficking on the Iris estate connected to that company.

But the other two—she had not.

Yet at the sight of those names, a dull ache resonated in Seraphie’s mind.

“…It was just after I’d claimed my title from my father.”

She recalled it vividly.

“I visited a particular dressmaker’s shop with Marin—my maid—at the time.”

Gramene and Rodo were the families of the noble ladies who’d badmouthed her then.