* * *

To be honest, I was a little hopeful.

Banding together as outcasts in society to topple an ultimate evil—wasn’t that a cliché you often see in movies or dramas?

My heart raced as I waited for Luke’s answer.

But then, with a blank expression, he replied.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no. Sealing Parak was nothing more than a stroke of temporary luck on your part. Even without an alliance, both that woman and you will be executed in due time. So, excuse me.”

I was stunned into silence by his unexpectedly cold response.

As he attempted to walk past me, I grabbed his arm again.

Luke shook it off as if annoyed, his face showing mild irritation.

“Wait, hold on. What the hell? What did you take my words as? Wasn’t this the part where you were supposed to be persuaded by my argument and reluctantly agree? You know, something like, ‘Fine, I’ll humor you just this once.’ Wasn’t that the vibe?”

“I have no idea why you thought I’d entertain such a half-baked argument. Wolves disappear, and peace reigns in the jungle? No, another wolf would simply take the throne and bring tyranny again. Your thinking is always shallow. Short-sighted and overly idealistic.”

“…”

“Jerome might have found your idealism charming, but I do not. Let me make it clear—I can’t stand the naïve ideologies rattling around in that little head of yours.”

With a casual flick of his index finger, Luke pushed against my forehead, causing my head to tilt back.

That’s when I finally understood the sense of unease I felt toward him.

Before, I was merely intimidated by him.

Now?

Now I outright wanted to punch him.

Jerome annoyed me with his lack of logic, but Luke’s excess of it made me want to hit him even harder.

“Don’t push me!”

I slapped away his hand, which kept pressing against my forehead.

Seeing my flustered expression, Luke smirked, his face full of mockery.

“Let me give you some advice. If I were you, I would’ve appealed to reason, not sentiment. I’d have brought irrefutable evidence to ensure Revulin’s downfall and used that to persuade me. But instead, you chose to rely on my goodwill, exploiting the fact that I’m just as much an underdog as you are.”

“…”

“You reject being treated as weak, but when it suits you, you lean into the victim narrative. Isn’t that contradictory? It’s why I find you hypocritical.”

To summarize, Luke was telling me to convince him with skill, not just emotional appeals.

It was so typical of him.

As I thought about how ruthlessly cold he was, I found myself resenting my past self for making someone like him the main character of this story.

Clenching my fists tightly, I retorted.

“Fine, then what do you want? Do you just want to keep fighting me over every little thing? Is that your goal?”

“That would still be better than two sob stories licking each other’s wounds in pathetic misery. Oh, and don’t worry—I’m not referring to you and that slacker over there.”

“…”

“Stop acting like children making up after a fight. In this world, there are battles where the only way to win is to claw at your opponent and crush them.”

Luke’s condescending tone, like he was explaining something to a child, made me laugh bitterly.

He was completely looking down on me. I glared at him before letting out a sigh.

“Fine, I’ll prove your prophecy is fake. When I do, you’ll have no choice but to grovel before me. Falsely claiming a prophecy is a serious crime, after all.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Very well, if you win, I’ll gladly grovel.”

“Even if I make a terribly humiliating demand, you’ll comply?”

“Yes, sure. Not that it matters—you won’t survive the labyrinth anyway.”

Luke chuckled softly as he finished speaking, and his smirk reignited my determination.

I was going to seal the second beast and see this arrogant man grovel before my very eyes.

‘Just wait. You’ll regret every word you’ve said today.’

Our sharp gazes clashed, only to be interrupted by a commotion.

From the witness stand, Madame Quaintrell wobbled and then collapsed.

For a moment, I could only stare in shock before shouting.

“Madame Quaintrell!”

✽ ✽ ✽

The chain of twists and turns in the serial murder case ended in ambiguity when the key suspect and witness, Madame Quaintrell, collapsed.

Apparently, during the process of poisoning the victims, she had inadvertently exposed herself to mercury poisoning.

The trial was postponed until she recovered.

Although I was acquitted, her testimony implicating Revulin in the murders failed to materialize as concrete evidence, leaving me with a bitter taste.

Without her, there was no proof to tie Revulin to the crimes.

Bang!

“You’re free to go now.”

The guard opened the cell door and gave a slight bow.

I ignored him and hurried out, desperate to escape the stifling atmosphere of the prison.

Outside, I spotted Jerome leaning against a carriage.

My gaze shifted to the pile of cigarette ash at his feet.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“That’s what fiancés are for, isn’t it?”

Our engagement was only in name, of course.

Letting out a tired sigh, I climbed into the carriage.

Noticing my exhaustion, Jerome didn’t try to strike up a conversation for once.

After a long ride, we arrived at the Floral Café, the same place where I had once confronted Carlisle.

As soon as Jerome entered, the staff guided us to a familiar spot—a sunny terrace with no other customers around.

I slumped onto the plush sofa and muttered.

“This is draining.”

Jerome, sprawled out like me, replied in a flat voice.

“At least you’ve sent a clear enough warning. They won’t touch you for a while.”

“But I failed to expose Revulin’s crimes in the end.”

“Well, if he keeps his head down, he’s not the worst person to have around. People like him are predictable. The real troublemakers are the ones who aren’t clearly on your side or theirs.”

“Like you, you mean?”

Jerome shrugged instead of answering.

Suddenly, Luke’s words replayed in my mind.

‘Wolves disappear, and peace reigns in the jungle? No, another wolf would simply take the throne and bring tyranny again. Your thinking is always shallow. Short-sighted and overly idealistic.’

“Isn’t it obvious that villains should be punished?”

I mumbled absently, meeting Jerome’s eyes. He folded his newspaper and grinned knowingly.

“Got an earful from Luke, didn’t you?”

“It doesn’t make sense. How could anyone believe one woman committed all those murders? There’s obviously someone behind it, so why won’t anyone acknowledge that?”

“…”

“Luke must know. He’s witnessed Revulin’s atrocities firsthand. If he just gave a proper testimony, we’d have the proof we need to convict Revulin…”

Frustration welled up inside me.

Madame Quaintrell had risked her life to testify, yet we couldn’t bring Revulin to justice.

The world felt so unfair.

Lost in thought, I sighed heavily, only to notice Jerome watching me with an amused smile.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You remind me of a younger me, back when I still had a fire like that. Makes me a bit nostalgic.”

“Don’t act like some old man reminiscing about the past. You had a sense of justice when you investigated the Sacrin disappearances, didn’t you?”

“Not at all. Justice retired from my life a long time ago.”

Jerome let out a derisive laugh, as if the thought was utterly ridiculous.

His attitude was strikingly different from mine—I’d been mired in guilt and melancholy for days.

I wanted to handle things as composedly as Jerome, but I couldn’t stop feeling disheartened at the thought that nothing had changed.

Jerome tapped his plate with his fork a couple of times before speaking.

“If life were a cake, you’d probably end up eating the dry, crusty parts every day. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d get a bite of the cream once in a while, but even that’s a stretch.”

“That’s not exactly encouraging.”

“But there’s no need to despair over it, either.”

Jerome jabbed his fork into the single cherry perched atop the cake, the prized decoration reserved for each slice.

Before I could react, he pushed the cherry into my mouth.

I chewed it absentmindedly, my expression puzzled.

“From now on, I’ll make sure you only eat cherries.”

“…What?”

“Even if it means stealing every cherry from everyone else’s cake.”

The cherry Jerome forced into my mouth crushed softly between my teeth, its rich sweetness flooding my palate—a stark contrast to the dry sponge layers.

Jerome’s eyes, fixed on me as he leaned his chin on his hand, carried a shadowy glint.

His gaze, resolute and clear in its intent, made me avert mine.

“I don’t need that. One cherry is enough.”

“No one is ever satisfied with just one.”

“How can you say that for sure? If you take every cherry just to give them to me, someone else will end up miserable. I hate the thought of making others unhappy—it makes me feel guilty.”

“I don’t care how you feel. I only give what I want to give.”

Jerome’s actions in the town square—the way he summoned a Parak to acquire Maya’s crystal—flashed through my mind.

Determined to address it this time, I adjusted my posture and sat up straight.

My sudden seriousness made Jerome raise an eyebrow, his expression one of mild curiosity.

Explaining this to him felt as futile as describing an elephant to a kindergartener who’d never been to the zoo.

After hesitating for a long moment, I finally spoke.

“Say I gave you a gift. But when you received it, it didn’t make you happy—in fact, it made you miserable. Could you still call that a gift meant for you?”

Jerome’s expression turned serious as he considered my words.

He took a small bite of the dry cake, chewing thoughtfully, and then replied nonchalantly.

“If it’s from you, I’ll treasure it—no matter what it is. Even if it’s my parents’ fingers, death, or resentment. As long as it’s something meant for me alone.”

“…”

“Now you see, don’t you? What I feel for you isn’t love.”

It became clear that Jerome’s feelings for me weren’t love—they were closer to selfish satisfaction.

As long as he could adore me on his own terms, he didn’t care whether it burdened or frightened me.

This wasn’t a simple difference in perspective; we were parallel lines, destined never to meet.

Yet, spoken with such confidence, his words left me at a loss.

While I hesitated, Jerome glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“Well, it’s time. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Did you forget? We’re engaged. Today’s our engagement banquet.”

Not exactly welcome news.

I could already imagine the awkward atmosphere.

When Jerome tried to pull me up, I stubbornly flopped onto the sofa.

Rather than pressing me, Jerome knelt on the floor beside me and said with a playful smile:

“Just show up and sit. I’ll handle the rest.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Doing things you don’t want to is part of growing up.”

“But you never do anything you don’t want to.”

“Do I look like I don’t?”

I meant it as a jab, but Jerome didn’t take offense.

Instead, he brushed away a stray lock of hair from my face.

I already knew the truth—Jerome, for all his reckless behavior, was uncompromisingly diligent when it came to his responsibilities.

Unlike Jerome, I couldn’t be efficient, nor could I be as shrewd as Luke.

I simply gnawed at my innocent lower lip before cautiously asking:

“What about your father? How’s he taking it?”

“Not too thrilled, I’d say.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“What else? If it’s not love, then I’ll lie down and demand death.”

It sounded like Jerome planned to face things head-on, without any particular strategy.

Nobles cared about appearances more than anyone else.

Even if it was slander, a tarnished reputation was still a stigma.

There was a chance this engagement would end in annulment.

As I groaned in frustration, Jerome laughed and pulled me upright once again.

“Come on, let’s go—time to put on a show.”

* * *