The next day.

The collapse of The Matz-Carlton, amplified by its global brand recognition, dominated the news cycle day after day.

But the battle against the Hidden Flame that had taken place in its shadow remained hidden from the public… entirely by design.

Staring at the office TV, Ryota Fuji’s expression was vacant.

“Mr. Fuji, the Inspector is here.”

The staff member’s voice snapped him back to reality, and Fuji headed for the reception area.

There stood a noblewoman exuding an air of elegance and dignity.

Her golden hair shimmered in the light, her eyes were as blue as a summer sky reflected in a lake, and her skin was as smooth and pale as porcelain. Her arms were crossed before her chest, a pose that seemed to accentuate her generous curves.

This was Lady Ophelia Luxor.

“Well, well! Inspector. You’ve made a full recovery, I see!”

“Are your eyes as bad as ever? Do I look well to you?”

It was a brutally blunt reply that could have ended the conversation right there.

A muscle in Fuji’s eye twitched, but he kept his fawning smile plastered on his face. 

“Heh heh! Ahaha… My apologies. It’s just that you’ve already regained your radiant beauty, so I couldn’t help myself. And your new hairstyle! It looks wonderful on you—”

Fuji realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth.

It was a foregone conclusion that the spiteful little brat would sling some sarcasm his way, like, Oh? Are you saying my previous hairstyle didn’t suit me?

Ophelia, however, simply toyed with a lock of her now-shorter hair, her attention shifting to it. “You think so? It suits me?”

“Huh? Y-yes! Of course it does!”

“You wouldn’t be lying now?”

“Wha—? Of course not! I would never lie about such a thing!”

Ophelia seemed satisfied, a small smile gracing her lips.

Huh? Is she in a good mood?It’s almost as if… as if she was anxious about her new haircut, but now that I’ve complimented her, she’s relieved. Like she’s hoping to make a good impression on some guy she’s about to meet…Nah, am I reading too much into this?

As Fuji blinked in surprise, Ophelia seemed to snap out of it, her expression hardening.

The fleeting glimpse of a young maiden vanished, and the ruthless noblewoman returned.

“Ahem. Now then, about that matter.”

“I’m sorry, Inspector. Could you be a bit more specific?”

“Them. They came here, didn’t they?”

“Um, by them… do you mean the Del Exorcism Church’s investigative team for the Coral Eldarian incident? If so, yes, they were here. They requested our files on the Hidden Flame, so I handed them over.”

“You didn’t tell them about Ikaku Akamuro’s battle, did you?”

“…No. I haven’t. Just as you ordered, I’ve kept it quiet. They don’t know the truth. They probably think that Ophelia Luxor is the hero who destroyed the vile Hidden Flame cult that murdered so many nobles.”

Fuji clenched his fists, his voice laced with unconcealed hostility.

Ophelia met his gaze with a placid, unconcerned expression, which only infuriated Fuji further.

“With all due respect, how can you justify this?” Fuji asked.

“Justify what?”

“I’m asking if this is how you do things.”

Fuji’s voice trembled. It took tremendous courage to protest against such a powerful superior.

“I know the truth. I know who the real hero was that night. I used to think he was just some sycophant for a noble I couldn’t stand.All that loyalty talk… I thought it was meaningless. Risking his life for a fallen house… How pretentious, I thought.But that young man… he was different. He’s an incredible man. A man who deserves to be a legend. And yet, if this continues, no one will ever know.Are you going to let his lonely battle be buried in darkness and steal all the credit for yourself?”

Fuji’s eyes were red as he got the words out in a single breath. His voice was raised to protect the pride of a dead man—an accusation of theft hurled at a noblewoman. 

It was an outburst he could be killed for.

What the hell am I saying…? I must have been influenced by that idiot. Getting all worked up over a dead man…But this has to mean something, right? Because right now, I feel so proud. I feel like I’m doing the right thing.Is this what pride feels like?

Fuji fell silent, awaiting Ophelia’s response.

Her eyes widened slightly. “I’m surprised to hear such words from you. You used to be nothing more than a fat, groveling rat.”

“…And what do you see now?”

“A fat, filthy rat baring its fangs while trembling, perhaps.”

Fuji could only manage a frustrated grunt.

“But you are correct. If things remain as they are, I will receive all the credit. And that would be quite sweet, I admit. I stand to gain a great deal of renown.”

A look of pleasure softened Ophelia’s features. Fuji’s brow furrowed.

“However, that isn’t why I’m silencing you about Mister Akamuro.”

“Then why? What’s the point of suppressing his name, the name of the hero who burned his life away to defeat the Hidden Flame? What purpose does it serve, other than your own gain?”

“That is not to be spoken of right now, nor is it something you need to know, Mister Fuji. You need only keep your mouth shut about the great deeds of Ikaku Akamuro.”

With that, the arrogant, insolent girl turned and strode out of the Red Guild.

Fuji let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair and muttering a curse. “Damn brat.”

After leaving the Red Guild, Ophelia stopped at a supermarket on her way home, buying flowers and some chicken breast.

She arrived at the Akachi estate in Sumire Akashi’s compact car and, without hesitation, made her way to a room inside the mansion.

The room contained only a king-size bed. Aside from that, there was a houseplant, a lamp, and a window through which a gentle breeze blew. It had the air of a luxurious hospital room.

Ophelia handed the flowers to an Akachi maid and had her replace the ones already in the vase.

Ophelia placed her get-well gift—the chicken breast—on the side table next to the bed where the injured man lay. It was a high-protein, low-fat choice she had made after polling those involved about what would be most appropriate to cheer him up.

She sat down in a chair and gazed quietly at the young man lying in the bed—Ikaku Akamuro. Near his face, the fluffy Norwegian Forest Cat was asleep again today.

He had been like this for over thirty hours.

Thanks to Mikaela’s Angel’s Memento, Mister Akamuro has recovered considerably over the past thirty hours… if slowly. But he still hasn’t woken up.This is likely… what they call a “Husk.”

When someone narrowly escaped death through incredible regenerative abilities like Ichor, there were cases where only the body would regenerate, while the soul departed.

In the study of magic, such a person was known as a “Husk”—one without a soul.

Ophelia had seen a Husk before. And she knew the conditions that could lead to it.

The more she recalled Ikaku Akamuro’s brutal fighting style, the more it seemed to fit the profile.

How foolish. You were too strong. Even this magnificent physique couldn’t keep up with your will… You should have taken better care of your body, Mister Akamuro.

Gazing at the young man’s peacefully sleeping face, Ophelia couldn’t stop the tears welling in her eyes. She swallowed, again and again, trying to force them back.

A friend who held the exact same ideals. A hero of immeasurable nobility. A man who had answered her trust with absolute perfection.

Ophelia had failed to realize his true worth until it was too late. The young heiress was ashamed of her own inadequacy.

She touched Ikaku’s hand. His palm was thick, calloused, marked with scars. Her pale fingers traced them gently, almost teasing their unknowable history.

Ophelia squeezed his hand and buried her face in the comforter.

“I cut my hair… the parts that were burned and damaged. What do you think? Is it cute…?” she mumbled vaguely, her voice muffled.

She already had one positive review, so she was feeling confident.

Of course, her whisper couldn’t possibly reach someone who would never wake again. Ophelia knew that. That was why she asked.

Normally, she would never ask something so embarrassing. She wouldn’t even draw attention to her new haircut.

It would make it seem like I’m interested in him, after all.

Furthermore, the thought of anyone thinking, Oh, that girl wants a compliment on her new hair! was a humiliation tantamount to torture for the young heiress’s pride.

The thought was enough to cool her down.

What am I doing, being so foolish…

She chided herself internally and began to stand.

Just then, her slender, pale hand was squeezed back. Faintly.

Ophelia’s head snapped up. Ikaku’s eyes were slightly open, and he was blinking slowly.

Their gazes met. Time seemed to stand still.

“It suits you very well, my lady.”

Ikaku replied without a hint of hesitation.

A cold sweat broke out on the young heiress’s back.

She feigned composure with flushed cheeks. “I-Is that so? Hmm, I see.”

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