Later, the conference room was left with only me and my closest companions. The tension in the air was palpable, the kind that only follows when strategy and subtle intrigue intertwine.
"Lord Atem, do you have a conclusion?" Benimaru asked, his voice steady but curious.
"I am certain now," I stated firmly, my gaze unwavering. "The 'lord' Clayman spoke of… it must be Yuuki Kagurazaka."
Diablo's low chuckle confirmed my assessment. "Kufufufufu, my thoughts exactly. The only complication was the lack of concrete evidence, but it is undoubtedly him."
I inclined my head to Diablo, silently acknowledging his support. There was no doubt remaining. Luminas's counsel had guided my judgment, and while I reserved absolute conclusion about the other players, Yuuki was undeniably the puppeteer.
After all, very few knew of my connection to Shizu-san. The leak to Hinata had to come from someone with knowledge of both her and me. Yuuki fit that description precisely.
As I collected my thoughts, I shared a critical detail. "Myuran has claimed she has never heard of the Moderate Clown Troupe."
Geld nodded in agreement. "Clayman was a cunning demon lord, but even he did not trust his subordinates enough to reveal the existence of the Clowns."
The logic was sound. Clayman's paranoia meant that no one outside his inner circle knew of the Moderate Clown Troupe.
"But regarding the eastern merchants," I continued, "Shuna's investigation aligns perfectly. Clayman publicly dealt with them. Myuran encountered them several times and even served as a consultant."
Benimaru's brow rose. "Meaning…"
I leaned forward, emphasizing each word. "The Clowns have been disguising themselves as merchants while maintaining contact with Clayman."
Geld and Gabil exchanged knowing nods. "Understood."
Diablo added with a sinister smile, "Adalmann also encountered them. The Moderate Clown Troupe revealed themselves to him—they did not bother disguising their presence or concealing their tracks."
It was now certain: the Clowns had operated near Clayman's base, unseen by the castle's residents. My theory held weight.
"This confirms it," I stated with authority. "The Moderate Clown Troupe is tied to the eastern merchants." Diablo's grin widened.
Benimaru interjected with another theory. "Then it would also follow that Laplace—the one who vanished during the Great War—was responsible for the murder of Demon Lord Roy."
We knew three clowns existed: Footman and Teare had operated behind the scenes during the Great War, managing suspected traitorous majins under Clayman's command. The third—what had he been doing? According to Benimaru, the intruder in Lubelius had sought a specific objective.
I nodded. "All those aware of my connection to Shizu-san were present during the recent council. That is why I posed that final question."
Excluding Kabal, Elen, and Gido, both Gazel and Elmesia were cleared. Fuze, Veryard, and the Blumund Royal Court had minimal ties to the eastern merchants and no clear motive. Hinata herself was almost deceived—clearly not the mastermind. That left only one candidate: Yuuki.
"He has admitted ties with the eastern merchants," I said, voice calm yet cutting.
"He could hardly deny it," Diablo noted. "The high-quality paper they use originates from the Eastern Empire. The stock in his possession proves a connection beyond doubt."
"Kufufufufu. If he attempts denial, we can leverage this against him. A missed opportunity indeed."
I allowed a brief pause, letting the weight of the deduction settle over the room. I had not revealed my relationship with Shizu-san to anyone else. Whoever leaked it had hostile intent—and calculated that it would enrage Hinata. There was only one person who fit that profile: Yuuki.
Other parties, like Kabal's faction, were dismissed. Elen had suggested my ascension to Demon Lord, and with Emperor Elmesia behind her, leaking my secrets to the Eastern Empire gained her nothing. Blumund's royal family had no motive; their treaties and communications indicated loyalty, not subterfuge.
"Thus, the objective of these eastern merchants appears to be the expansion of their influence across the western continent," I continued, voice firm. "Hinata and I were manipulated to exhaust our strength."
Benimaru and Diablo nodded in agreement.
"Among the Western Nations, the Council and the Western Holy Church hold the greatest sway. The merchants have infiltrated both, gradually expanding influence. Their supporting organization is…"
"The Freedom Association," Diablo said, voice resonant with certainty.
I inclined my head. Motivation aligned perfectly.
While direct proof remained elusive, suspicion was enough to warrant caution.
"What is our next course of action?" Benimaru asked. Diablo's expression suggested immediate retaliation, but I shook my head subtly.
"First, we observe. He has agreed to assist us for now. Yet we must act cautiously, prepared to uncover his next move."
"Understood. I will monitor the Freedom Association's new department in our city," Souei confirmed.
"Good. And all of you, do not act rashly. No one moves without orders."
"Yes, sir!" came the unified response.
It would suffice for now. My desire to confront
Yuuki was immense, but without evidence, such a move would be reckless. He could evade with words alone. There was also the remote possibility of misjudgment, though it was extremely unlikely.
Even Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, would hesitate without proof.
"In any case," I added, voice resolute, "the principle is clear: no one is to be judged guilty without evidence. Stay alert. Do not underestimate him."
The lieutenants acknowledged my command with firm nods.
What Yuuki planned, how he maneuvered Hinata, Clayman, the eastern merchants, or even the Council itself—I could not yet know.
But one thing was certain: Yuuki was now a target locked in my gaze. We would prepare quietly, observing, waiting for the moment of our final confrontation.
The festival's joyful days had ended. The daily grind resumed. Tasks and crises awaited, yet frustration had no place in my mind.
I exhaled slowly, contemplating the masks I would need to wear in future encounters with Yuuki. The game of shadows had only begun.
The Shadow of Greed Moves...
Duke Muze staggered as he stepped out of the grand hall. His legs felt heavy, his breath uneven. The air of Eterna still pressed on him—thick, suffocating, regal.
He felt it now. True fear.
What he faced inside was not just a ruler—it was a presence that devoured the very will to resist.
Atem, the King of Eterna. A being that Muze, no matter how cunning, could never hope to outplay.
He had thought himself clever.
He had thought he could manipulate this so-called Demon King, offer him favors, whisper in his ear, and make him dance to his own tune.
But that arrogance had died the moment Atem's eyes turned toward him.
Those golden eyes—sharp as divine judgment—had seen through every layer of his deceit. And then, with words that struck like divine thunder, Atem dismantled everything Muze thought he controlled.
Now, outside the palace, Muze could only laugh quietly at himself.
How foolish I was… I thought I was the player, when I was merely the pawn.
He recalled how Atem's envoy had revealed everything—one after another—the names of the merchants, their countries, the trade deals, even their hidden accounts.
That was not politics. That was execution.
The handsome shadow that stood beside Atem—his dark enforcer—had announced each name with calm precision, as if reading the verdict of gods. Every word cut into Muze's chest like a curse.
"How much did they investigate?" Muze whispered to himself, trembling.
The merchants he'd once employed were finished. They had lost their foothold in Eterna, their trade routes dismantled, their names blackened. They had been driven out—but that was part of Atem's plan all along.
Soon, their home nations would pressure them as well. Atem's influence was spreading fast. Eterna and its allies were becoming an economic circle so vast, so prosperous, that no kingdom could afford to oppose it.
Any nation that rejected this new empire would simply… rot.
Muze knew this truth with cold clarity. Having seen Eterna's prosperity during the festival—its music, its art, its culture—he realized the world would soon revolve around this luminous kingdom.
At first, he'd scoffed at them.
A "Monster Kingdom," he called it. A backwater realm in the wilderness.
Now he was ashamed of that thought.
The city's brilliance, its architecture, the delicacies and technologies—it was all too advanced, too alive. The very heartbeat of civilization. Atem's Eterna was not a monster nation—it was the future.
Cutting ties with such a kingdom… that was suicide.
But it was too late. Muze had gambled his life, and lost.
"The Five Great Elders will never forgive this…" he muttered under his breath, despair weighing down on his shoulders.
His wealth, his influence—everything would be stripped from him. And afterward, they would erase him, just as they erased anyone who failed the Rosso family.
Still, he had no choice. He had to report the truth. To lie would only make his death more painful.
As the Duke left Eterna, far across the western lands, two figures spoke in a lavish, candle-lit chamber within the Rosso estate.
"They have indeed failed, grandfather," said a young woman with crimson hair and eyes like rubies. Her voice was calm, but her words dripped with disdain.
"Yes, Mariabell," replied the old man seated upon the velvet throne. "I should have sent you from the start. It was my mistake to hesitate. I had thought perhaps… we could use this kingdom to our advantage. But now, I see that was a fool's dream."
Granbell Rosso—head of the Five Great Elders and patriarch of the Rosso family—closed his eyes. His face was a mask of regret, his hands trembling as he gripped his staff.
"That's only natural," Mariabell said coldly. "You let curiosity soften you. You saw beauty where there should have been only calculation. I warned you, grandfather. I told you Eterna would become dangerous."
Her tone sharpened, venomous yet poised.
"They've created a culture that reminds the world of a lost era. Their music, their inventions—it stirs people's hearts. And that is precisely why they must be erased before the rest of the world awakens to their light."
Granbell frowned. "…You would destroy them because they remind you of something familiar?"
Mariabell smiled, a cruel and dazzling smile. "No. I will destroy them because they threaten us."
Granbell said nothing for a moment. Then he
sighed deeply. "Perhaps you are right. I should not have underestimated the so-called King of Eterna."
"His name is Atem," Mariabell said, almost whispering it like a curse. "And I intend to make him kneel before me."
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Even you may find that difficult."
"Please," Mariabell laughed, her eyes glinting with pride. "You forget who I am. I am Mariabell—the embodiment of Greed. I desire everything this world offers… and I always take what I desire."
Granbell studied her in silence, then finally rose from his chair. "Very well. You will go in my stead. I grant you full authority."
Mariabell's smile widened. "You won't regret this, grandfather. Soon, Eterna will fall. And when it does, everything it has—its riches, its glory, even its King—will belong to the Rosso."
Granbell reached forward, gently patting her head. "Do not disappoint me, my dear. For if you fail—"
"I won't," she interrupted, her tone firm, unwavering. "Because failure is for those who hesitate. And I do not hesitate."
As she turned, her cloak of red velvet fluttered like living flame.
—And thus, Mariabell the Greed moved at last.
Her ambition stretched toward Eterna, toward Atem, and toward the throne that no mortal should ever dare challenge.
But the King of Eterna was no ordinary ruler.
And when Mariabell reached for his kingdom, she would soon learn the true weight of a Pharaoh's wrath.
The letter from the Council of Western Nations would arrive one month later… and with it, the beginning of a new storm.