Even Carlyle himself was a little baffled by that impulsive gesture of his, a moment ago.
But he shook his head, quickly.
I finally have decent juniors. I can’t afford to lose them over something as stupid as this.
And it was time to settle his own overexcited nerves, besides.
I need to solve the kidnapping case, and fast.
Just thinking about the string of kidnappings happening in and around the capital was enough to put a hairline crack of tension across his brow.
Twelve children missing, just from what we know so far.
Every victim so far had been a commoner, which had cost the Black Spoon Division far too much time before it was even allowed to open an investigation.
But every location where a child had vanished bore the same trace — signs someone had tried to use black magic there.
A black crescent-moon mark… identical to the one left on Julianna Crosswell’s core.
Which meant catching whoever was behind the kidnappings would reveal who was behind the runaway surge as well.
And, with any luck, a clue toward whoever had cursed house Rupesk in the first place…
When I got to the office, the mastermind was nowhere to be seen — a morning meeting somewhere, presumably.
But his absence was more than made up for by the male lead’s enthusiastic briefing.
“Going forward, Finley will accompany me out into the field for black magic apprehensions. Rowell, you’ll handle support and communications from here.”
The male lead handed Seamus and me each a separate file.
The moment I lifted the cover, the word CLASSIFIED, stamped in heavy block letters, was the first thing I saw.
<Kidnapping cases in and around the capital>
This was the original story’s first major incident.
I remembered exactly what the biggest problem with this case had been.
Ugh… didn’t someone die, in this one?
They eventually caught the kidnapper, but he took his own life on the spot the moment they cornered him.
Even at the hideout they’d found by tearing the place apart, several of the children had already been too late to save… and the ones who survived remembered nothing at all.
What on earth were they trying to do to those kids.
That was when the male lead cleared his throat lightly.
“Rowell. Are you listening?”
“Huh? Ah, yes sir.”
“You’ll handle things here, while Finley and I run the investigation in the field. If the situation on-site turns into an emergency, you’ll need to respond alongside us.”
“How exactly should I do that?”
“I’ve requested an artifact from the Mage Knights’ Division to link this office to the field.”
Ah. The second the words left my mouth, I realized what an idiotic question that had been.
Hm, though that team and the Black Spoon Division aren’t exactly on good terms, are they.
I looked over the org chart posted at my desk.
Under the Mage Knights’ Division, the Artifact Crafting Team… here it is.
The team leader: Arthur Featherston.
Title: Viscount.
A wave of secondhand PTSD hit me, remembering exactly which chapters had made the heroine’s life miserable because of this man.
【”You think we only work for the Black Spoon Division? Come back later.”
“We’re short-staffed with other work right now. Come back later.”】
In the end, he was the textbook type — spineless toward the strong, vicious toward the weak — who only lifted a finger once someone with an overwhelming title, like the male lead, said something directly to him.
Not that I’m expecting him to make an exception for me.
The secret of my birth still hadn’t come out yet, after all, so as far as everyone else was concerned, I was still just a commoner.
And sure enough, when I actually met the man, the look in his eyes was nothing good.
Team Leader Arthur Featherston — a middle-aged man with hair somewhere between orange and red — had practically groveled when the male lead first introduced me.
“Of course we’ll see to it, Young Grand Duke Rupesk!”
“Address me by rank while we’re at work, Team Leader Featherston.”
“Yes, yes. Team Leader Rupesk.”
A few days after that.
When I went by myself, just to introduce myself, Team Leader Featherston looked me up and down.
“Good morning, Team Leader Featherston. I’m Leila Rowell — we were introduced last time. I’m here about the artifact request—”
“Sleep in this morning, did you?”
“Sorry?”
“No ‘just enough to not look dead’ makeup on your face — figured you must have overslept.”
“…”
“A girl’s got to wear makeup if she wants to marry into a noble house, doesn’t she?”
Oh, wonderful. A filthy mouth just like Allison’s, just on a man this time.
But I was the one who needed something from him, so I plastered on a thick skin and asked anyway.
“I came to ask when our team’s requested artifact might be finished.”
“Would you quit hounding me. I’ll send it over whenever it’s good and ready!”
“I apologize, but as for the delivery date…”
“We’re at our busiest time of year too, you know! You think your department’s the only one swamped?”
He knew perfectly well the Black Spoon Division had taken over the kidnapping case, and he was still stonewalling like this.
Real relaxed about it, since it’s only commoner children being taken.
Since he insisted he was busy and I had no power to push back, I couldn’t very well press any harder.
But just as I turned to leave after saying my goodbyes, I overheard Featherston shouting at one of his subordinates.
“Hey, you there!”
“Yes, Team Leader!”
“Crack a window, would you! I can’t stand this gutter stench.”
And then a wave of laughter rolled through the room.
I knew perfectly well that was meant for my ears, deliberately loud. For the record, it did nothing to me.
I dug at my ear as I walked out.
“Sheesh, but I do remember exactly how the heroine took you down.”
An embezzlement bust, to be precise.
Making an artifact means buying materials.
And Featherston, along with a few of his team members, had been inflating the amounts they requisitioned, then quietly selling off the surplus.
At an absolutely vicious markup, too!
Should I just let the male lead’s title steamroll this instead?
I could. It was an artifact needed for an urgent situation, after all.
But if I do that, won’t those men just end up resenting me down the line?
I wanted a fast resignation, sure, but I also wanted to live quietly afterward, which meant avoiding earning the resentment of nobles wherever I could.
I’ve probably already made enemies among them, thanks to the whole Allison business.
Which meant I needed to find some other department to hide behind while I handled this.
A flicker of irritation rose up in me.
I’m wasting my time on pointless office politics.
I didn’t want to be in the Black Spoon Division at all, so the sooner I got it disbanded, the better.
Which means I need to remember the dates, locations, and details of these incidents far more precisely.
Knowing only the broad strokes of the major incidents wasn’t going to cut it.
I needed finer detail!
Still turning that over in my head, I walked into the Black Spoon Division’s office to find a head of purple hair bobbing right in front of my face.
“Why are you wandering around like that?”
“Oh, Seamus?”
Seamus was staring at me, thoroughly sulky.
There wasn’t any reason for him to be sitting there sulking without me, was there? Ah — unless.
“You can’t eat lunch by yourself?”
“What…?”
“No, if that’s it, just say so. Is that why you were waiting for me?”
“Obviously.”
Seamus did not, in fact, blush.
Instead, he frowned at me like I’d asked the dumbest possible question.
“I already told you. I’m observing you.”
“Ah, right…”
Today, too, the future head of the Mage Tower’s ongoing field study of one humanoid magical beast appeared to be proceeding splendidly.
But looking at his face gave me a sudden spark of an idea.
“Seamus. You’re basically the best there is, at the Mage Tower, right?”
“What…? Well… yeah.”
“Then, do you happen to know anything like a spell for recalling things you’ve seen in the past, in very fine detail?”
“What…?”
“Please, just say yes!”
I hadn’t put this much effort into my puppy eyes in a long time.
Grape-Head looked away like he’d witnessed something he shouldn’t have.
“It’s not working, no matter how hard you try.”
“Dammit.”
“Anyway, there is… a way. Sort of.”
“Gasp, I knew it!”
Camaraderie between colleagues really is patriotism in miniature — Seamus Finley, the Mage Tower’s resident genius, willing to answer absolutely anything you asked him!
But before I could finish singing his praises, Seamus shot me a distinctly unimpressed look.
“There’s a condition, though.”
