Editor 76

Opera Theater Murder Case (3)

“Anyway, adolescence is a good thing. You’re taller now and clothes look better on you than before. I know you live thinking of nothing but money, but I also like how your eyes make you look sentimental. You’re looking more and more like Baron Asser, so it’s worth polishing you up.”

“I know that you have a somewhat improper interest in my father, Lady, but do you really need to say that to his son?”

“Improper? Improper? I simply love handsome men with a pure heart, as white as a lily! Once you put on some weight, you’ll be passable too, but why do you always look so pitiful!”

It wasn’t Cleio’s fault that his metabolism was at Ferrari level, but he had nothing to say as she scolded him.

Her delicate hand in a silk glove grabbed Cleio’s wrist and shook it vigorously.

‘I always think this, but this lady is as strong as her sense of beauty is odd.’

“You just thought I was stronger than I look, didn’t you? Look, young master, you’re just too weak. I saw your report card—can’t even properly hold a sword!”

“Lady Dione, who says that to me, can you wield a sword?”

“Of course. What do you think was inside the handle of my parasol you broke before? Today, too, I brought an umbrella sword. Well, it can’t pierce a magical beast, but it’s enough to create an opening against a human opponent.”

Cleio tried to snap back at Dione but didn’t even break even. To think she could swing a sword with those slender arms.

“I didn’t realize the full extent of your abilities, Lady Dione.”

“Be sure to recognize them. If need be, I’ll protect you!”

“That’s reassuring. Though, ideally, I hope there’s no need for you to fight as well.”

“Well, honestly, no matter how savage the murderer is, they’re not going to do anything in the middle of a theater packed with thousands.”

While asking for tickets, Cleio had briefly explained the situation to Dione.

She, too, was surprised and promised her cooperation. She even asked if she should arrange a meeting with the police chief, but Cleio refused that offer.

Because, whether it was bizarre red ether or magical murders, it seemed a case beyond the police’s capabilities.

‘If I can just get solid evidence, I could even ask the Capital Guard Knights to investigate. They don’t have the right to investigate people, but they do have the right to investigate magical incidents.’

Since last summer, Cleio had taken to reading various laws and regulations related to the Capital Guard and the school.

It was a habit he’d picked up after making a stupid mistake from not knowing the alternative service regulations.

“Oh, by the way, the item I requested by phone—is it ready?”

“Ah! Yes, it’s right here.”

Dione, pulling up her slightly lowered silk gloves, took an envelope out of her pearl-handled handbag and handed it over.

While Cleio checked the invoice inside the envelope, she handed him a wooden box that had been innocently sitting on a bookshelf.

“I made the revolver’s cylinder myself from enchanted iron ore, and our jewelers worked around the clock to get the silver bullets done on time. Please note, they even worked nights.”

Inside the box, there was a thin-barreled revolver and sixty silver-plated bullets crafted with magic stones, all neatly arranged. Maybe because they’d just been made, they sparkled.

“I apologize for the trouble.”

“That’s why there’s a night shift bonus on the invoice.”

Reading the detailed items, Cleio saw that jewelers were paid extra for working over eight hours a day.

Lady Greyer was clearly a more conscientious business owner than most. Albion still had a six-day, twelve-hours-a-day labor system, after all.

“In that case, I’ll pay double for the night shift bonus.”

Cleio took out his checkbook from his coat pocket, calculated double for the night shift bonus, wrote the total, and signed.

Dione smiled as she accepted the check.

“As expected, you know how the world works. In the future, if it’s a job you commissioned, the jewelers will all rush to take it. Thanks to the overtime, the workers were happy they could make new clothes for their children.”

Dione seemed to have a close personal relationship with her workers, enough to chat about their lives.

“Proper pay comes from sincerity.”

“My, my. A young master who’s never earned a dinar in his life, how does he understand the lives of wage earners so well?”

Cleio gave a bitter smile inside. He couldn’t explain his past of being a wage slave until he was sick of it.

Just then, a servant announced Ishiel’s arrival.

Dione, after one last look in the mirror, adjusted the cameo on her fur and smoothed Cleio’s stray hair.

Cleio put the revolver box into the large picnic basket Mrs. Canton had brought and closed the lid. It was pretty heavy.

The two headed out into the hallway to go downstairs.

Cleio had a concern whenever Ishiel and Dione were in the same place.

“I’ll say this in advance, but Ishiel will probably come in uniform. Please don’t criticize her clothes.”

Since Dione considered clothing a kind of speech, Cleio worried she might say something about Ishiel wearing her uniform to the theater.

“You’re much more versed in etiquette than I am, but Ishiel has her reasons for that outfit, so please don’t say anything.”

“I know. How could I criticize Lady Kishion’s black frock coat? It would be presumptuous to add words to her rhetoric.”

Cleio was dumbfounded by the completely different reaction from usual.

“…No, if you respect Ishiel that much, why do you always treat me like a rat?”

“Ha, how could you compare yourself to Lady Kishion? She is determined to inherit her estate and defend the border, but you are not.”

“Excuse me, Lady Dione. I know you’re comfortable with me, but could you please think a little about my feelings?”

“Who are you to say that to me? You’re the one who doesn’t understand people’s feelings. Hmph, you’re a thousand years too early.”

Before Cleio could retort, Dione briskly opened the drawing room door.

Ishiel was standing in front of the centerpiece.

She was wearing her usual tidy uniform, her sword slung with poise.

Cleio, who’d gone to the trouble of warning Dione, felt a little—just a little—regretful, shamelessly.

Shaking his head, Cleio quickly dismissed any vain thoughts about dresses.

Even with her slim, toned limbs wrapped in monochrome formalwear, Ishiel needed no further adornment.

Her brilliantly red hair framed her ears like a fire lit by roses, and her eyes shone brighter than peridot—what more could she need?

Dione had her own battles, Ishiel her own field. Being always ready for battle was Ishiel’s pride.

“Thank you for waiting, Lady Kishion. I apologize for making you come all this way.”

“Not at all. Thanks to your kindness, I can attend the performance—how could I call it a long journey?”

“So understanding! You have such a generous heart! Mot, you get up too!”

“Eung….”

Behemoth, sprawled on the drawing room floor like a rug, slowly got up at Dione’s call and shook himself.

Both Ishiel and Dione couldn’t take their eyes off Behemoth as he started grooming himself.

The sight of two extremely beautiful women staring devotedly at one old, fat cat looked like a scene from an absurdist play.

The giant, obese cat, enjoying the beauties’ gazes, groomed himself fastidiously. He seemed pleased after the Madeira he’d been fed that afternoon.

“Buuuurp—wongnya.”

‘Look at him, still tipsy from the booze earlier. Geez.’

“Now that you’re all dressed up, let’s go to the opera with your big sister. It’s the ‘Lord of the Highlands’ we’ve been waiting for for half a year!”

“Mya, eok? (Fine, but will there be booze?)”

“I’ve already sent Ekarat rosé champagne to the theater, so we can drink while watching! I’ll even give you a few drops!”

Behemoth’s half-closed eyes suddenly sparkled like emerald stars.

‘Can I really trust this alcoholic cat?’

Arthur and the others needed every eye they could get to track the red ether.

If so, Behemoth, sensitive to ether, was the best mercenary.

To convince him to come, Cleio had opened a prized 20-year-old Madeira as soon as he got home.

Noticing Cleio’s scolding face, Behemoth stretched his mouth in a sly smile.

“Eouuuung (You heard her? Treat me right).”

Cleio opened the picnic basket he’d brought down. That meant, come in quickly.

.

.

.

In front of the second-floor staircase of the opera theater, a guard stopped them.

“Excuse me, but is that… an animal in the basket?”

Cleio, struggling with the large picnic basket, came to a halt. A black tail, not quite fitting in the basket, was swishing outside.

“Pets are not allowed in the audience. If you don’t mind, could you leave it with us? We’ll take care of it during the performance.”

“Not allowed in the audience? There’s no such rule in the Royal Opera’s regulations.”

“Well, that’s…”

Dione’s tone was gentle, but her attitude firm. She had probably really read the theater’s regulations. By the book, the guard had no grounds.

‘Of course there wouldn’t be a rule. Who would think of bringing a pet to an opera… No, it’s all my fault.’

“Sir Cleio here holds the right, as a Capital Guard awardee, to be accompanied by a pet even in the palace. Are you saying the Royal Opera’s authority is higher than the royal family’s?”

The guard flinched at the lady’s force and the weight of the name she invoked. Cleio knew it wasn’t a good move, but there was no time for niceties.

‘If I didn’t bring Behemoth in and let him loose, he’d surely sneak off somewhere to nap or steal booze.’

As things seemed to be going their way, Dione poked Cleio in the side.

“Now, naturally, hold the cat basket in one hand and offer me your arm. Escort me in with the attitude of claiming your rightful privilege.”

“I… that’s impossible. I can’t hold Behemoth with one hand.”

“Oh, really! You’re driving me crazy.”

Catching their whispered exchange, Ishiel quietly took the cat basket from Cleio’s hand.

Then, as if to guard them, she stood behind the two.

With her cold, stern presence, the guard couldn’t say another word.

Cleio awkwardly offered his arm to escort Dione.

From the earlier commotion, people’s eyes were on them, and he felt the back of his neck prickle.

So, the three and one cat managed to get past the guard and reach the second-floor box seats.

The cozy balcony box was furnished with luxurious chairs covered in red velvet.

A few minutes later.

Sitting in a seat engraved with the Asser family crest on a copper plate, Cleio thought:

‘I just wanted to borrow the cat’s help, not throw my weight around… The damage is done. Sigh.’

Behemoth shot out of the cramped basket and sprawled on Cleio’s lap.

Cleio, now covered in black cat hair on his pale cape coat, chewed over his embarrassment.

Of course, the embarrassment was his alone—Dione didn’t care at all.

“Ray, Ray. Do you see that empty seat over there?”

Dione whispered from behind her fan as if she’d found something amusing.

From their seat on the right side of the stage, the left box was clearly visible.

“For such a popular show, why are there empty seats?”

“That’s the royal family’s box. Queen Zuleika is a big fan of opera and always shows up during the season, but ever since Geheim became the theater’s star, she hasn’t come. She must not want to hear the songs of a nobody from nowhere.”

“They leave all those seats empty just because the queen doesn’t attend?”

“Well~ they’re for royals and royal guests. About one time in ten, the queen’s only son fills the seat, but he’s away for winter training with the southeastern defense forces right now.”

The queen’s only son is the second prince, Aslan.

“…So the second prince isn’t in the capital right now?”

“Definitely not.”

That made their previous suspicions inconsistent.

Cleio turned to Ishiel, seated on his left. Judging by her expression, she had the same question.

He’d thought the red ether was related to the second prince….

‘No. Would a prince, whose mother is an imperial princess, really do the dirty work himself? Whether he knows it or not, it’s probably handled by someone at a working level. Let’s keep watching for now.’

Cleio activated “Perception.” Enduring the dizziness that came with it, he focused all his mind.

His expanded senses brushed past each and every person filling the theater.

He examined the entire audience and even the orchestra members.

‘Let’s see. Anyone with ether sensitivity above level 5… There are! Two of them!’