At the edge of the village, near the forest path, a strange sound rang out.
‘What is that? That grinding sound… it sounds similar to the noise a pickaxe makes.’
But the innkeeper, John Doe, had clearly said so: the Rule was not to go out at night, and even if one did, there would be no one outside.
‘Then is it an animal or a monster?’
However, neither seemed particularly plausible. Brellin Village was the settlement closest to the gateway and the furthest from the Dark Mountain Range within the Marquisate.
‘If monsters had pushed down this far, the Marquisate would have been decimated by now.’
It would be impossible to see the peaceful sight she had witnessed during the day.
‘And an animal coming this close to human dwellings? There aren’t even any fields nearby.’
While Beatrice pondered the identity of the unknown entity, the sound of the pickaxe stopped. Instead, she sensed the presence of someone stepping through the undergrowth.
Rustle, rustle.
‘Did they leave?’
Just as she was listening to see if they were moving away, the pickaxe scraping resumed. Beatrice stood frozen, holding her breath at the repeated sound.
‘Darn it… should I check it out or not?’
Beatrice bit her lower lip. She was scared to go alone, but she worried about missing a crucial clue if she didn’t.
‘Why is Clyde never around when I need him!’
After blaming her childhood friend—who wasn’t by her side—for no good reason, Beatrice clicked her tongue and moved her steps.
‘I’ll just take a look from far away!’
Beatrice even took off her shoes to avoid making noise and cautiously approached the forest path.
The sound was coming from a place closer than she had thought.
Straining her toes to step on soil instead of dry grass, Beatrice hid behind a tree. The moment she cautiously peeked her head out, she reflexively covered her mouth with her hands.
A figure in a deep-hooded robe was kneeling on the dirt ground, busily tearing something apart.
‘Wh-wh-wh-what is that?’
Her eyes widened, thinking she had stumbled upon a murder scene, but she soon realized that what was being mutilated was not a person, but a doll.
She also noticed that the emblem on the stranger’s robe was somewhat familiar.
‘That emblem with an eye drawn over bound hands… that’s the crest of the Kalbaron Temple Prayer House.’
Does that mean a monk is destroying the dolls right now? But why?
‘I’d have to investigate why they’re suddenly acting out, but people will get hurt if it weren’t for those dolls…?’
Currently, those dolls were no different from protective devices. Beatrice furrowed her brow at the incomprehensible situation when—
“Haaa, seriously. This is so annoying I could die! Why do I have to do something like this!”
A voice so familiar it made her doubt her ears pierced Beatrice’s hearing.
The self-centered tone, the gestures dripping with emotion, and the red hair peeking out from beneath the robe.
It was none other than Valoa Crawford.
‘Why is she here?!’
It wasn’t strange for Valoa Crawford to be in the Marquisate. What was strange was that she was alone in the middle of the night, tearing dolls apart!
‘The Princess? Is this the Princess’s doing after all?’
No, that wasn’t what was important right now! First, she had to go back and share this situation with Clyde.
There was a high probability that this was the reason why the House of Downer had sealed off the territory earlier than in the previous life.
Perhaps because she was in a hurry, Beatrice’s foot stepped on a dry branch.
Snap!
“Who’s there!”
At the short but clear sound, Valoa whipped her head around. Beatrice’s heart sank at the sharp, fierce glare. Fortunately, they were on a forest path where the darkness had settled deeply.
Even if Valoa realized someone was there, she wouldn’t be able to see her face clearly!
‘Pl-Please!’
But earnest prayers do not always come true.
Valoa’s gaze, which had been sharply scanning the surroundings, landed exactly on Beatrice. After a brief silence, she spoke, raising an eyebrow.
“…You…”
“…”
“Who are you? A resident of this village?”
Fortunately, Valoa didn’t recognize her.
Only then did Beatrice remember that she was currently disguised as Lia Kruger.
‘Phew! Thank goodness! Truly, thank goodness!’
She meant it with all her heart.
If it had been Valoa Crawford, the moment she realized who Beatrice was, she might have lunged at her, screaming, ‘I’ll make you pay for making me like this!’
‘After all, Valoa is a crazy woman with a record of arson….’
Beatrice clutched her pounding heart and nodded quickly.
“Y-yes….”
“Really? That’s strange. None of the villagers come out at night.”
“That’s because…”
“There’s no need to answer. I’m not curious about why you broke the Rule.”
Cutting off Beatrice’s answer at her own whim, Valoa stood up and walked toward her.
Then, hooking her index finger under Beatrice’s chin to tilt it up, she twisted one side of her mouth into a smirk.
“I’m only curious about one thing. You—did you see it?”
“…Pardon?”
“You did see it, didn’t you? Me tearing and breaking the dolls.”
“…”
…I’m screwed.
Just as she was agonizing over what to say to get through this crisis—
“There are traces here as well!”
At the shout from not far away, Valoa’s gaze snapped toward the sound.
“Here? You mean right here!”
“Ah, judging by how the grass is flattened, it seems they committed the crime in the village and moved toward the outskirts!”
“Captain, it looks like they haven’t made it far yet!”
W-wait, what?
In the midst of her confusion at the sudden presence of others, Valoa’s hand gripped her chin tightly.
Looking down at her with eyes glinting in the dark, Valoa’s expression turned somewhat peculiar.
“…Tacky glasses.”
“P-pardon?”
What is she even talking about now?
Just as Beatrice’s eyes were wavering at the incomprehensible flow of the conversation, Valoa forced something into her hands.
The sharp weapon she had been digging up the doll with until a moment ago, and the broken Orichalcum.
“Take it.”
“…Take it? This?”
To Beatrice’s half-beat slow reaction, Valoa simply gave a scoffing laugh instead of answering. Then, she pointed a finger at the heavily damaged dolls.
“This was your doing, too. Got it?”
“What?!”
“Good luck with that.”
“W-wait a second…!”
Valoa left only those words before turning around. And before Beatrice could catch her, she vanished swiftly into the depths of the forest.
An ominous feeling climbed up Beatrice’s spine once again.
‘I really don’t think I should be here.’
After all, there was no way Valoa Crawford, of all people, would do anything helpful!
However, before Beatrice could trust her gut and flee the spot—
“Over there!”
“She’s here!”
“Found her!”
Accompanied by bright lanterns, a swarm of guards bearing the crest of the Marquis surrounded her.
“That tool and the Orharcon. So you’re the one who’s been going around damaging the dolls installed in the territory!”
“What?”
“You won’t escape now.”
Lest Beatrice flee, a guard grabbed her wrist and glared at her with a chilling gaze.
“Just whose orders are you following? Do you have any idea how many people have suffered because of you?”
“N-no! No, wait a second! I didn’t do this…!”
“Hmph! Save those excuses for the Marquis and the Archduke. They said they would interrogate you personally!”
The Marquis? The Archduke? No, what on earth is happening!
Beatrice’s mind went blank at the fact that she had suddenly become a criminal and was being dragged away.
“Let’s go, men!”
“Yes, sir!”
“No, give me a minute—no, ten seconds! I’m with the Crown Prince’s escort party! If you check the inn in the village…!”
“Good grief, you’re noisy! One more peep out of you and I’ll gag you!”
Beatrice shut her mouth tight at the guard’s firm threat.
‘I’m doomed. These people have no intention of listening….’
Though the Downer Marquisate was the destination, she had never thought she would go in this manner.
‘For now, do I have no choice but to move with the guards to the estate?’
Ignoring her throbbing head, Beatrice observed the guards’ movements. Perhaps because they thought they had caught the culprit, the guards’ vigilance seemed somewhat relaxed.
‘In that case….’
Her wrists were tied, but she could still move bit by bit away from the guards’ eyes. Beatrice began to tear the cloth she had received from Clyde.
One piece, then another.
Dropping the fragments on the ground, Beatrice prayed that Clyde would somehow notice the commotion and her traces.
Please!
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