"Then, Your Grace the Duke of Vélez—how much did you bet on Lord Marie?"
The Queen's smile was frightening. She already knew the Duke's answer, yet she was making him say it anyway.
The Duke began to sweat in streams. Sweat dripped onto the floor.
"Th-that is…"
"What? I can't hear you. Speak clearly or I cannot hear."
"Um… zero."
"Haa? Lately my ears have grown distant with age and I didn't hear well. Once more, a little louder, if you please?"
The Queen pressed hard. Age? I thought she had recently grown younger.
"…Yes. Zero! It is zero…"
"Zero?!"
"Yes. Zero."
What was this barren conversation. Still, calling him "His Grace" felt like a waste; "His Grace-sama" fit him perfectly. Yes. He was far too disappointing.
And this Queen who said everything I wanted to say—what was she? Was she even human?
"Which means—Your Grace the Duke of Vélez! You served as Lord Marie's patron, yet you did not bet on Lord Marie?"
"Yes… that is so."
