[282] 3. Midnight Ball (3)
"Well, I'm just the seller. You saw the demonstration yourself; isn't it normally the buyer who makes the offer?"
Jion bit his lip.
No matter how he denied it, the reality was clear. Ataraxia was worth far more than Armand. No—putting value aside, he wanted it by any means.
"4 billion. That's almost everything I have. That should be enough, right?"
"Hmm, 4 billion."
Four billion was a fortune—enough to build about four magic schools at current prices. Still, Arius wasn't satisfied.
To be honest, it didn't matter how much was offered.
Even the magic sword Armand fetched over three billion, but if it had been put up at the Curia auction it would have been treated as at least S-rank material—possibly warranting a blank check.
It couldn't be auctioned because it was stolen.
Most objects were tainted in some way, but putting plainly stolen goods up for auction risked leaving a trail for trackers to follow.
Since money didn't mean much to Arius anyway, selling to the safest buyer—Jion—was the prudent choice.
When Arius looked like he wouldn't be content with 4 billion, Jion grew anxious. Desire only grows stronger for what's hard to obtain.
Even if he emptied his pockets, he could only add about 700 million more.
Uorin probably had ten times that 4.7 billion, but wasting his one chance to ask her for help on cash would be foolish.
Because Arius wasn't one to obsess over material wealth, Jion decided to play his final card.
"In addition to that, I can get you into Teraje's patronage."
As expected, Arius's eyes glittered.
Teraje, emperor of Kashan, was one of the Three Sovereigns and among the continent's most powerful. If he could secure her protection, he wouldn't have to live as a fugitive anymore.
But Jion had no authority to make introductions. The only gateway into Teraje's circle was Uorin.
Jion glanced at his sister and asked, "Uorin, can you do that?"
It was the first favor he'd ever asked of her, but he was certain it would be the last. With Ataraxia in hand, he could go far on his own.
Just once. This one time.
"Then Shirone will die, right?"
"Probably. There's no guarantee that being beheaded means certain death, though."
Knowing his sister had a fondness for Shirone, Jion had blurted out the same reckless line Arius had tried earlier. Still—it was a clever bit of wordplay to hide behind.
"Hmm."
Uorin put a finger to her lips and stared at the ceiling.
She didn't want to meddle in Kazra's politics, but lately she'd felt sorry for Jion's struggles; in a way his incompetence made her pity him. If this really was his last chance, she might as well be kind.
"All right. I'll tell Mother."
Jion let out a relieved sigh.
It was ironic to be anxious about something a family member could obviously grant, but now that the permission was secured, nothing else mattered.
"Deal. 4 billion, plus Teraje's patronage. Tonight, cut off Shirone's head. Bring Ataraxia to me."
Arius blinked and raised a hand.
"Wait. Are you asking me to do that job?"
"What do you mean? If the tomb-robber doesn't do it, who will?"
"No, you don't understand, Your Highness—this is a profession. I'm an expert in tomb-robbing; combat isn't my specialty. I especially don't like seeing blood."
Jion stared in incredulity.
Even among noncombat mages, most have enough fighting ability to handle dangerous situations.
Was the same man who'd just ranted about extracting a brain now saying he wouldn't look at blood?
"You can't fight? Shirone will win, won't he?"
"It's not a matter of winning or losing. I've been called every insult there is, yet I'm an authority in psychoanalysis. I was once listed among the world's top hundred intellects. Can you imagine me taking a blade and cutting down an eighteen-year-old boy's neck?"
"Then what am I supposed to do—go and kill him myself?"
"If I could, I'd prefer that."
Arius raised his hands as if to pass the task off; Jion ground his teeth. But you can't force someone who refuses.
"I can't do it. I will."
"Oh-ho, as expected of a prince. How manly of you."
When Arius egged him on, Jion snorted. There were plenty of people who could stealthily cut an eighteen‑year‑old's throat without having to go looking outside.
"But I won't get my hands bloody. We'll have to hire a specialist. Jenoger."
Saying that, Jion looked into the air.
His gaze found something, slowly descended, and fixed over Arius's shoulder.
A lethal presence made Arius force a strained smile.
"Hehe, makes me nervous to look back."
As soon as Arius finished, the menace vanished as if by magic. A moment later a man descended in front of Arius, hanging upside down.
A single thin thread—seemingly attached to his backside—ran up to the ceiling. His legs were crossed as if seated, and both hands rested at his dantian, forming a circle.
His face was gaunt, his narrow nose sloping straight from the bridge. His lips were almost non-existent. Most striking were his eyes: perfectly round rather than the usual almond shape, and even those were small.
"You called, Prince?"
Jion introduced him as he turned to Arius.
"Say hello. This is my personal bodyguard, Spatur Jenoger. Jenoger, this is Arius."
Jenoger twisted his thread while hanging upside down. He nodded once toward Jion, then turned back to Arius.
"Of course I know of you. I've seen you several times—though, of course, you probably haven't seen me."
Arius's smile was paper-thin.
Jenoger had almost certainly never been noticed by him before—but Jenoger likely watched him every time he came to the gallery.
"Impressive skill. Where've you been hiding?"
Jenoger answered with a corpse‑like, emotionless face.
"Hiding? I've been right behind you the whole time."
"O—oh, what a joke…"
Arius's narrow eyes slitted even further.
Perhaps it was true. Without eyes on the back of one's head, the world behind is almost nonexistent.
But tracing the backers of the Seven Arcane Swords wasn't easy; it was saner to treat it as a joke.
"Do you think I'm lying?"
As he spoke, flesh bulged at both his cheekbones and temples. The skin split and three extra eyes sprouted on each side—six new eyes in all.
They had no pupils and shone a grape‑like violet.
Eight eyes in total. His field of view was probably only about fifteen degrees at best.
'A mimicry type…'
As Arius suspected, Jenoger was a master of spider mimicry, a kind of skima corporeal art.
Mimicry uses skima to rapidly alter cellular traits and create organs entirely unlike a human's.
But to produce such extreme mutations as Jenoger's requires genetic inheritance as well.
The Spatur clan, charged with the Teraje family's security for generations, had spent nearly a thousand years shifting their bodies toward spider traits. Passed down through blood, it culminated in near‑perfect spider mimicry.
Arius tore his gaze from Jenoger and searched for Uorin.
Teraje's children always had personal bodyguards. Uorin's guard would certainly be here.
Arius scanned as widely as his permitted sight allowed, but no assassin was visible.
Perhaps… one could be standing right behind him.
The thought sent a chill through him.
Entering the Spirit Zone in front of royalty could invite misunderstanding, so he restrained himself—but even sweeping with synesthetic sensing might not detect them.
Skilled assassins learn techniques that leave them undetectable in the Spirit Zone.
"Heh-heh. This is why I can't give up this life."
After the odd introductions, Jion returned to business.
"Let's plan the operation. Jenoger will handle the killing—no, separating the brain from the torso. Once the neck is cut, you go in and retrieve Ataraxia."
Arius had no objections now.
"Mobility is sufficient. But the second concern is secrecy. No one outside this room must know about the operation."
Jion understood immediately and asked Jenoger, "You can do it without anyone knowing, right?"
"That's no problem. When tailing someone, there always comes a moment they're alone. If there isn't such a moment, you could always kill everyone present, couldn't you?"
"Of course that's one way. But I prefer to minimize variables."
Arius said. "The tricky parts are two women. Reina can be shaken off—she has duties—but that Amy will stick to Shirone. She's also a daughter of the Karmis family. If you leave her free she could become a variable."
Hearing that, Jenoger's face sprouted eight pupils again.
With his mimicry active he became a perfect spider. Even though he was right there, his presence felt faint.
"I make no mistakes."
Arius pushed his hands out in a calming gesture.
"Whoa, whoa, I'm not saying I don't trust your skill. I'm just hypothetically considering possibilities."
Jion, who'd been thinking with his chin in his hand, made a decision.
"All right. While you handle the job, I'll keep Amy occupied. Killing should take five minutes, right? Then holding her for an hour should be more than enough."
"Oh-ho, so that's your type."
Jion didn't deny it.
"Well… she's pretty, right? If it's just a one‑night thing, it's a preference."
Arius felt bitter at the boy's casual words. Raised in the palace, his experiences were of a different intensity than those of an ordinary adolescent.
In any case, royal gossip bored him. The tomb‑robbing of an archangel's power was the only thing that excited him.
"Then let's set the time and place."
While the three of them worked out the meticulous plan, Uorin sat marginalized in a corner, bored.
She stroked a cat and it meowed. She answered with a smiling, "meow."
@
The castle was in a festive mood.
With Shirone displaying overwhelming might as the candidate for First Prince, the courtiers forced themselves to tear up and be moved.
A lavish party was held, and even after night fell the grand hall was as bright as day.
Long tables ran along the hall's edges, laden with delicacies. Palace musicians played while nobles and noblewomen chatted.
Nobles who'd drifted toward foods to their taste came up to greet Shirone.
"The demonstration was splendid. A marvelous trial. The test results aren't out yet, but from his martial display it's clear His Majesty's blood runs true, hahahaha."
Shirone said nothing, and a perceptive noble took the cue.
"Is there any doubt? The reunion after eighteen years—credit His Majesty's virtue. Don't you agree, Shirone?"
Shirone remained silent.
He wasn't fooled anymore. courtly decorum and manners were nothing but masks to hide true feelings. Beneath those masks, everyone wore cold faces like his own.
'Are these people my enemies, or my allies?'
It seemed the fate of royalty to spend a lifetime wondering that.
The loudest voice in the banquet hall belonged to Eliza.
Though she had never raised him, she praised Shirone as if she knew everything about him, and her compliments did not cease.