The waiting room next to the banquet hall was brightly lit, as expected.
Even the lingering haze of smoke, not yet fully dispersed, cast faint shadows.
The fact that Count Ruddle’s shadow was nowhere to be seen was undeniably strange.
Strangely enough, neither the guards nor the maid who had first discovered the scene seemed to notice.
‘Most people wouldn’t pay attention to shadows, after all…’
Morgana narrowed her eyes as she retraced her memories.
‘Did Lady Isolde also lack a shadow?’
When she had first found her, it had been nighttime. She hadn’t even thought to check for a shadow, so she couldn’t recall. In situations like this, the best course was to ask someone who knew her best.
Morgana scanned the murmuring maids and a few onlookers standing at a distance.
Just then, Tristan entered, guided through the crowd. His hollow gaze immediately fixed on the fallen Count Ruddle.
Taking a deep breath, Tristan clenched his fists and tightly shut his eyes.
“I’ve heard what happened.”
Though his voice trembled slightly at the end, his reaction was calmer than expected.
Morgana rolled her eyes in surprise at his unexpected composure.
‘Isn’t this too different from how he was with Lady Isolde?’
Of course, the weight of losing someone you love versus losing a family head could differ.
But from what little she had seen, Tristan and Count Ruddle hadn’t seemed to have a bad relationship.
Tristan, as if unable to bear the sight any longer, turned his head away, fists clenched.
‘Maybe it’s because he’s been hit with too many shocks in a row.’
Tilting her head slightly in thought, Morgana strode out of the waiting room.
Kellive’s startled voice called after her.
“Morgana?”
“I’ll be back after a quick stop at the banquet hall!”
Passing curious onlookers who had spilled into the hallway, Morgana returned to the Great Hall—only to run into Lancelot on his way out.
The moment she saw him, she blurted out her question.
“The straw… no, I mean, the blond Britain knight—where is he?”
“Are you referring to Sir Medic? If so…”
Lancelot turned his head and scanned the great hall before gesturing toward a corner with his chin.
“Hmm, over there?”
“Huh? Where?”
Morgana narrowed her eyes, trying to spot where he was pointing, but no golden—no, straw-like hair caught her attention.
In response, Lancelot bent slightly, lowering himself to her eye level. He pointed precisely toward a specific spot.
“Here?”
He was indicating a tiny, shadowy figure so small it was barely visible even when squinting in the vast hall.
Her eyesight wasn’t exactly eagle-like…
Morgana gave Lancelot an odd, scrutinizing look, unsure how he had managed to spot it.
With a bright smile, Lancelot straightened up and asked, “What about Sir Medic?”
Morgana, distractedly tracking Balin with her eyes, replied casually,
“Didn’t you think he was acting strange on the way here?”
“Hmm, he’s always been a quiet one. Though I did notice he talked more than usual today. Why? Is something wrong?”
“Massively. Brace yourself.”
The moment Lancelot playfully blinked and placed a hand over his heart, Morgana stepped away.
Instead of heading straight for Balin, she casually circled around him, pretending not to notice while greeting familiar nobles.
“Fancy seeing you again at the temple!”
“M-Me? It wasn’t me—my brother was the one who visited the temple…”
“Ah, your brother! How could you two look so alike?”
“Me… and my brother? Please don’t say such horrifying things.”
Though she exchanged puzzled words with the nobles, her gaze remained fixed on Balin.
First, Morgana checked the floor.
Only the champagne glass in Balin’s hand cast a shadow.
An awkward, floating shadow stood out conspicuously on the floor, but most people seemed too distracted to notice in the bustling hall.
‘There must be a magical artifact hidden somewhere…’
Even if she stood on her hands, Balin was unmistakable to Morgana’s eyes.
Following his movements, she approached another noble and offered a half-hearted greeting.
“Pleasure to meet you! Thank you for your hospitality.”
“We actually met once at the temple…”
At that moment, Balin’s hand hovered near his waist. He kept grabbing and releasing the dagger hanging from his belt, lingering around the knights.
‘Even if Count Ruddle is like that, why are the others…?’
Not to mention, he didn’t even glance at the lower-ranking knights in the order.
Whenever he approached those who seemed particularly skilled in swordsmanship, he clutched the dagger.
It didn’t seem urgent—more like a take-it-or-leave-it attitude.
But then, Balin’s expression suddenly hardened.
Soon, Kellive’s voice echoed from a distance.
“Gawain.”
“Yep, coming.”
When Balin spotted him entering the hall briefly to look for Gawain, he gritted his teeth with a click.
Unlike before, his hand gripping the dagger now looked full of murderous intent, as if he’d kill him on the spot.
At the very least, his hostility toward Kellive was unmistakable.
Along with the true purpose of that dagger.
‘Ah, so there’s a magic stone embedded in it?’
So that’s how he stole the shadows.
Just as Morgana was eyeing the dagger’s hilt adorned with a red gemstone—
Someone suddenly leaned over her shoulder and popped their face in.
“Give it to me.”
“Ack!”
A shiver ran down Morgana’s spine as she flinched away with a flail of her arms.
“Lord Ithil!”
How can someone be so sneaky?!
Unlike her, clutching her chest in shock, Ithil was brimming with excitement as he stared at Balin.
“Give it. I wanna break it.”
He seemed utterly fixated on the dagger.
‘Come to think of it, even in Britannia, he kept wanting to shatter magic circles.’
If magic stones were the same, wouldn’t this be right up his alley?
Morgana smirked subtly and asked him again.
“That’s a magical artifact, right?”
“Yep. It’s enchanted with dark magic that absorbs souls to grow stronger.”
Despite the terrifying description, Ithil’s lips curled into a wide grin. His cheeks even flushed slightly.
With sparkling eyes fixed on the dagger, he giggled.
“It’s super rare. I have to break it. Can’t hold back.”
Uh, excuse me?
It looked as though he would pin Balin down and shatter the sword at any moment.
Sensing a hint of madness in his demeanor, Morgana quickly grabbed his arm.
“W-wait a moment. I’ll let you break it!”
“Can’t I do it now?”
He could. In fact, if Aide, the master of the magic tower, handled it himself, it would sever any connection to Avalon or Britain—making it even better.
‘But what about Sir Medic originally?’
Balin was from Avalon.
On the other hand, Sir Medic, whose survival was uncertain, was part of Britain’s envoy.
With so many eyes watching now, one wrong move could escalate into a major incident where an Avalonian harmed Britain’s envoy.
‘We need to go somewhere without people.’
She could persuade Lancelot. As for Count Ruddle’s matter, it would suffice to make it appear as an ongoing investigation.
The only condition for all of this was that there be no witnesses.
Worried that he might act rashly, Morgana tightly gripped his arm and scanned the surroundings.
The hall was densely packed with nobles engrossed in their own conversations.
‘The problem is how to do it in a hall with so many spectators…’
Suddenly, the image of Balin grinding his teeth flashed in Morgana’s mind.
For some unknown reason, he harbored intense hostility toward Kellive.
Pulling his arm closer, Morgana whispered quietly,
“Could you call Kellive for me?”
“Then can I break it?”
“Of course! Just let Kellive know I’m waiting for him on the terrace!”
“Okay. I’ll be right back!”
Without another question, he swiftly strode off to find Kellive.
Morgana then called a maid standing nearby and gave her the same instruction.
“Could you tell Olivia in my room to bring the sword immediately?”
💫
The terrace protruding from the banquet hall was spacious enough to accommodate at least twenty people, thanks to Lord Caradoc.
Once the windows connecting to the Great Hall were closed, the noise was cut off.
It was a perfectly isolated space.
Morgana took a deep breath of the cool night air.
The chill sharpened her thoughts, easing the tangled mess in her mind.
As she leaned against the railing, reminiscing about Avalon’s gardens where she once ran freely like a dog—
Click—
The sound of a door opening came from behind.
“Morgana, I heard you called for me.”
Of course, he wasn’t alone.
“You really didn’t kill His Highness, did you? I’m just feeling uneasy and irritated.”
Behind him, Balin, brimming with sorrow, looked as though he might burst into tears while confronting Kellive.
Aide fidgeting behind them, was an added bonus.
“Can I break it now?”
Kellive ignored him effortlessly and asked Morgana,
“What did you promise Aide to let him break?”
“Yes, about that.”
As she rested her arms on the railing, a soft breeze swept by.
Morgana brushed her wind-tossed hair aside with one hand and smiled brightly.
“Kellive, you’ll have to be the bait.”
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