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“The situation has become such that we must act as soon as possible.”

Hadn’t one of the most useful among those who lurked around him like hyenas, hoping to perhaps pick up rotten meat, whispered:

‘His Majesty has assigned a task to the Youngest Prince. I heard it’s quite a significant matter.’

A task for someone who could die at any moment without it being strange? And directly from His Majesty at that?

He couldn’t do anything about the most irritating Einar, and now even the youngest was causing trouble.

Moreover, when he went to see His Majesty in person…

‘His Majesty says he will not see you.’

To be turned away at the door. Flushing red with shame, he left the central palace, and until he was gone, the Emperor never changed his mind and called him in.

Jane didn’t bother to ask why he was anxious and elegantly lifted her teacup to ask:

“There’s a reason you haven’t been able to proceed.”

That must be why he called her.

If it’s related to Bolshevik…

Before she could finish her thought, Smith answered, and it was completely different from what she had expected.

“I don’t have a suitable tool to use.”

“By tool, you mean…”

The Third Prince, seemingly forgetting his previous boast that there was no need to lower his voice in this palace, whispered in a much lowered and smaller voice:

“A tool that can slip poison into what enters the Emperor’s mouth without anyone noticing.”

Jane pressed the teacup to her lips to hide her twisting mouth.

Despite this not being related to Bolshevik, he called her—was he wanting to reveal his weakness in such a foolish way, that he had no useful people around him?

Unless…

Jane lowered her teacup and opened her mouth with a subtle smile.

“I am honored that you trust me this much.”

“Y-yes. I do trust you.”

At least he doesn’t openly say he doesn’t trust someone like me.

Thinking this, Jane slightly averted her gaze from Smith, who was showing a disagreeable reaction, and quickly began calculating.

She had a suitable device for poisoning the Emperor.

With that mechanical device, she had openly poisoned the fake’s teacup during tea time without being noticed.

But wasn’t that her own secret weapon?

Was it worth using for the Third Prince, who obviously thought of her only as a tool?

While she was tilting the scales in her mind back and forth, Smith incredibly sensed that Jane had something.

As Riina had said, wasn’t he excellent at sniffing out anything that could be of benefit to him, whether people or tools?

“I promise you this. If this matter goes well, under my rule, I will prioritize Bolshevik unconditionally just once.”

It was a truly empty yet terribly sweet offer.

Even while thinking such promises were mere words, the weight on Jane’s mental scale instantly tipped.

Of course, the fact that her own situation wasn’t very favorable was also a major reason the scale tipped toward the Third Prince.

Jane whispered, lowering her voice even more than Smith had:

“That suitable device, I can provide it.”

As soon as those words came out, Smith leaned forward until his nose almost touched Jane’s.

Jane’s eyes, meeting his eyes that blazed with pure greed, weren’t much different, but they conversed for quite some time while despising each other.

By the time the teapot had completely cooled:

Smith asked in an even more subtle voice than when he had spoken about the Emperor’s assassination:

“You’ll take care of that woman for certain?”

“Of course. I’ve already begun the plan.”

“Plan? Ah, no. As long as she’s dealt with, it doesn’t matter.”

Smith, who was about to ask about Jane’s plan, quickly changed his words and waved his hand.

There was no need to step into a suspicious matter first.

Sensing his demeanor, Jane spoke with an elegant smile:

“It’s a plan that becomes perfect when Your Highness ascends to the Crown Prince position. For that day, I will definitely procure the suitable tool.”

Smith replied with a smile that caused the corner of his mouth to twitch to Jane, who emphasized that they were in the same boat.

“Then, I’ll leave the Bolshevik matter to you. And the tool, as quickly as possible…”

“Yes. I’ll take care of it with certainty.”

Jane willingly took Smith’s outstretched hand.

“This is our first and last chance.”

“I know.”

For the Third Prince, it was an opportunity to become Crown Prince and sweep away the troublesome Bolshevik, and for Jane, it was an opportunity to eliminate the fake and reclaim her original position before her schemes were discovered.

The two, sitting in the same place but thinking completely different thoughts, fantasized about their desired victory and shining future, wearing identical artificial smiles.

And so began the conspiracy of two people who had nothing, weren’t particularly clever, but whose greed was as large as a mountain.

To the parties involved it was serious, but it was extremely crude, without substance, and therefore heading in an unpredictable direction.

“Yes. I’ll do it. Take a rest today. You’re in pain.”

Becky handed a handkerchief with a faint calming scent to her colleague, who was clutching her stomach and sweating cold.

“Is it really all right?”

“Of course. As it happens, the lady is out, so I have time to spare.”

But as expected of a servant of the Bolshevik household, she was reluctant to entrust her duties to another without going through the proper procedures.

Even if that duty was the not-so-pleasant task of managing the shadow’s quarters.

Having anticipated this, Becky whispered in her colleague’s ear with a kind smile that reassured her:

“If you’re really worried, maybe you can help me next time when I’m suffering from the same pain.”

Her colleague’s expression brightened immediately at these words, which conveyed that she wasn’t the only one passing on work—Becky also planned to pass work to her in the future, making them accomplices, so she shouldn’t worry.

“Sh-should I?”

“Of course. We should help each other when we’re struggling.”

“What if the steward finds out…”

“If the annex steward catches us, I’ll personally run to the lady and plead. What good is having power?”

Though she laughed playfully, the word “lady” that Becky uttered instantly dispelled her colleague’s worries about consequences.

The colleague clutched Becky’s handkerchief and said:

“Then I’ll just ask this favor for today. What you need to do is…”

As always, Becky listened attentively to her colleague’s instructions and nodded emphatically.

“Leave it to me. You know I’m good at this work. Now, go and rest. On your way, ask the kitchen for a hot water bottle.”

Becky thumped her chest and gently pushed her colleague’s back.

Once the sweating colleague had disappeared, Becky looked down at her shadow and said:

“Let’s go now.”

“Not there, here.”

As she spoke, the shadow of a flower vase displayed in the corridor, as large as a person, rippled—not Becky’s shadow.

The voice resonated while the shadow moved noticeably, though no person was visible?

If a third party had seen this, they might have screamed about ghosts, but Becky calmly stomped on her own shadow and said:

“Move over here.”

“Since we’re in the mansion, there’s no need to… Never mind. I’ll move.”

In truth, even now, and when they went to meet Hans, Lione didn’t need to insist on hiding in Becky’s shadow.

As long as Becky was within his sight, he could protect her sufficiently before anything happened to her.

His talent for martial arts—that is, swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, and all skills related to harming people—which even he had not known about, made this possible.

However, since he had only recently discovered this talent, and only his trainer, Riina, and Einar had told him about it, Lione lacked confidence in his own strength.

As Lione was melting into Becky’s shadow, an unexpected sound flowed into his ears.

“If anything happens, I’ll protect you.”

“What?”

“I’m stronger than you inside the mansion.”

As Lione looked at Becky, who spoke confidently while lifting her chin, from his half-submerged position in her shadow, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Though he could feel Becky’s gaze staring blankly at him as he laughed out loud, Lione couldn’t stop laughing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like this, but he couldn’t stop until Becky stomped on the shadow and grumbled:

“Ah, why are you laughing! I’ve been holding back because I didn’t think you were mocking me.”

“No, it’s because you said you’d protect me. I’m grateful.”

“That wasn’t that kind of laughter…”

Becky blew a snort toward Lione, who was narrowing his eyes and completely melting into the shadow, and soon moved on.

Click.

“It’s a simple organizing job, so I’m alone. That’s why this is the perfect opportunity.”

After boldly entering the room in the corner of the annex where Jane stayed, Becky first began to tackle the task at hand.

While she competently navigated through the papers filling the room and handled them neatly as her colleague had instructed her:

Lione, who had emerged from Becky’s shadow, carefully examined one side of the room where he had previously observed Jane secretly doing something.

“What are you doing there?”

At Becky’s question, who had poked her head out beside his right arm holding an ostrich feather duster, Lione unconsciously smiled and answered:

“There should be a secret space around here.”

“A secret space?”