"Trait… Trait… Trait…"
"Yes, that very Trait," Queline said, sipping her water. "He's the one who betrayed the Stag Empire ten years ago—attempted to assassinate His Majesty, failed, and fled. In doing so, he dragged my entire family into ruin."
She motioned to the waiter for another thermos and filled the cups in front of herself and the idiot with steaming water. Picking up a small knife, she scraped it through the leftover broth on the table and carved out a date: October 14th. A moment of reflection… That date was today.
"Ten years ago today, he defected. No one ever discovered why—a man of such promise, the High Inquisitor, at the pinnacle of his career. He infiltrated the royal chambers under the cover of darkness, blade in hand, intent on murder. Fortunately, Headmaster Kampa was in the palace that night and defeated him.
In his desperate escape, for reasons beyond my comprehension, he came to our home. In the dead of night, he banged on our door and woke my father."
"My father, confused and unaware, welcomed him in. We had always maintained cordial relations with that man, so Father offered him refuge, brought him hot water, and asked what had happened. I was awake too—I watched from behind the door, curious about the commotion."
"But that man said nothing. He remained less than three minutes before abruptly taking his leave. No one could stop him. And soon after we saw him off in bewilderment, the royal guards arrived. They arrested my father, my mother, myself, our newborn sibling, and every servant in our household—on charges of high treason."
At this point, Queline's fists clenched, her teeth grinding together—barely suppressing her fury and grief. The idiot saw it all, etching it into his mind.
"From there, everything spiraled. During the trial, Father repeatedly declared his innocence, but no one believed him. Mind you—he was an Earl. An Earl! The third of the five noble ranks—not as high as a Duke or Marquis, perhaps, but still a man of stature. Yet this one incident turned our lives upside down."
"Though no conclusive evidence of treason was found and his title remained intact, we lost everything else—our estates, our prestige. We became fallen nobility, no better than commoners. My mother, still weak from childbirth, died of the shock. My father's legs were broken during interrogation. Hah… how swiftly the world changes.
And still, I cannot understand—why did that man deliberately implicate us? My father had always treated him well. Why betray us so cruelly?"
She downed her cup in one go, then poured another, letting it cool as she slowly shook her head.
"All because I carry the brand of a 'traitor's associate' on my back, no one dares come near me. They're all afraid of guilt by association. But still… still!"
Queline's voice suddenly rose, emotions flaring. She slammed her cup onto the table and shouted:
"Why hasn't a single man ever dared to approach me, to defy convention and pursue me? Am I that hideous? That unpleasant to be around? All I want is someone handsome and rich to lean on! But in all my years—four of primary, four of junior, four of advanced studies, and now university—not a single charming man, not even a lustful dog, has shown the slightest interest in me! Why?!"
Was this woman… drunk on water?
Face flushed, she pounded the table. Her impassioned outburst echoed through the restaurant, drawing stares and hushed murmurs from every direction.
"What are you looking at?!"
Three throwing knives flashed through the air, embedding themselves into the table next to hers. The two startled diners nearby scrambled to pay and flee, not daring to glance back.
"Hmph~"
Queline retrieved her knives, tucked them into the sheath at her waist, and resumed sipping her hot water. Now finally quiet, the idiot pieced together the story from start to finish.
"Interesting. Then, first question!" the dark blade chimed in, "Boy—do you know why that man Trait deliberately implicated the Runida family?"
The idiot pondered for a moment before replying, "Yes. I believe I understand."
"Oh? Intriguing. Let's hear it."
"That man wasn't trying to frame anyone. He was simply trying to survive. He was crafting a diversion—an escape route."
"Go on," the dark blade said, amused. "Tell me exactly what was in his mind."
The idiot nodded and spoke softly:
"After the failed assassination, he tried to flee. But he must have misjudged the speed of the royal guards. Before he could execute his escape plan, the entire Windsand City was locked down. There was no way out. Soldiers were scouring every corner for him. Even if he concealed himself perfectly, like a diamond buried in the sands, they would eventually find him."
"He had to redirect the search. Hence, he visited Queline's father. In mere minutes, he transformed the Runida family—holders of an earl's title—into a glittering gold mine. A nobleman of such rank would naturally draw greater attention. Rather than chasing a hidden diamond in the desert, the guards would be drawn to seize the gold that now sparkled in plain sight. Most of the soldiers likely rushed to arrest the earl and his kin, giving the traitor just enough of a window to slip through their fingers."
The dark blade chuckled coldly. "Excellent. Very clever. No wonder you're so adept at scheming and fattening yourself off others' misfortunes—you see through conspiracy faster than anyone. But that Trait fellow… he's quite sharp too. I like him. Hey, if we ever track him down, why not recruit him? We'll need men like that in the days ahead."
The idiot shook his head. "Recruit him? There's still one mystery I haven't solved."
"Oh? And what's that?"
"Why did Trait betray the empire in the first place? The High Inquisitor is no small post. Why throw everything away?"
"Heh… now that, I may have some insight into," the dark blade said suddenly.
The idiot froze. He looked down at his right arm. Within the chain, the eye of blood stirred, half-lidded with a sly, ominous smile.
"To make a man of such status turn traitor, the temptation must have been extraordinary. I can smell it, boy—the scent of malice. And you… you shall play a crucial role in this grand execution of evil. I look forward to it."
With that, the conversation between man and sword ended.
The idiot looked up again. Queline was still drinking, face redder than ever. Whether it was the lingering summer heat or simply too much hot water, no one could tell. Suddenly, she thrust her half-drunk cup toward him and shouted:
"You! You're the first boy who's dared sit and talk with me! Come, drink with me—to your courage!"
He stared at the cup. She'd worn light makeup today—likely for class. A soft pink lipstick mark stained the rim.
He didn't dare drink it. One of his ironclad rules: never accept food or drink from strangers. And this… this woman might've laced her lipstick with poison, taken the antidote in advance, and offered the cup with feigned innocence. It was a beautifully subtle method—perfectly disarming.
But before he could firmly decline, a voice from the next table cut in:
"If you admire him so much, why not just take him home? You're still single, right? He's only a little younger than you—I'd say he's a fine catch!"
Laughter erupted around them. Unlike the stiff, judgmental nobles at school, these commoners chuckled freely, as if long familiar with the eccentric ways of this fallen noble lady.
"Who said that just now?!"
Queline shot to her feet, a flying knife between every finger. She stormed to the next table, one foot slamming onto its surface—entirely ignoring the fact that she was wearing a skirt. Her glare was murderous.
"Who said I don't have a boyfriend? I have so many they're lined up outside the city!"
The poor man raised his hands, eyes wide in fear as the glinting blades hovered near.
"Ha! If you won't date him, why not let your little sister have a shot? They look about the same age~!"
Another diner laughed—but not for long. Three blades whizzed past his scalp, burying themselves into the wall behind him.
"Let me make this clear…"
Queline loomed over the unfortunate soul, her face a mask of fury and darkness, voice like a blade of frost.
"Don't. Make. Jokes. Like. That. I will kill you."