12 O’Clock Marionette

Father.
Gavotte shut his eyes tightly.
With his father’s sudden death, Minuet needed the Elder Council’s approval to inherit the title.

Yet, days had passed since she left for Whistle, and there was still no word.
He knew exactly how the Elder Council would respond.
But if he went there himself and renounced his claim to the title, they wouldn’t have another option.

The Elder Council wouldn’t want the title passing to a branch family.
A deep sense of unease clawed at his chest, but Gavotte forced himself to believe things would work out.
Fully prepared to depart, he mounted his horse.

Four guards rode behind him, their horses shifting restlessly.
Just as he was about to kick his horse forward, he hesitated and looked back at the estate.
The truth is…

"Should I come with you?"
I wanted to rely on her.
Siora Bonetti was difficult to read, but she was solid.

Like a deep-rooted tree.
Even if not for that, simply having someone warm beside him would have been a great comfort.
But how could he ask that of her?

Not after what he had overheard in Minuet’s room, when he had gone to share in her grief.
"You really don’t know? Why Father went into your waiting room that day?"
Those words had been painfully, undeniably clear.
Afraid someone else might overhear, Gavotte had stood by the door until their conversation ended.

Even as the ground beneath his feet felt like it was crumbling away.
Thinking back on it now, he laughed bitterly.
"How could I possibly ask for her help?"

He didn't understand.
What kind of man tried to kill the adopted daughter who had saved him from an unwanted marriage?
And why, knowing that, did he still mourn such a father?

Why, even for a fleeting moment, had he resented Siora?
What little shame he had left kept his mouth shut.
With resignation, Gavotte commanded,

"Let’s go."
"Yes, young master."
Five horses galloped forward.

Dust rose in thick clouds behind them, obscuring their path.
And just fifty meters behind that trail—two figures watched.
"Wow, there he goes. Off he goes!"

One was Siora Bonetti.
"You really must care for him. Enough to clean up after his mess."
The other was Cruello White Desert.

Hearing his flat remark, Siora clicked her tongue.
"I'm not going because of Gavotte. And who told you to come along?"
"You can’t get there without me. You can’t even ride a horse."

"That’s only because I never had to learn! And I wouldn’t even need a horse if you hadn’t convinced me to go!"
"That’s true. I did push you into this. My apologies."
"Oh, come on. At least try to argue back, you’re making this boring."

"You really find this boring? I’m having fun."
Seeing his smirking face, Siora rammed her forehead into his chest.
It had absolutely no effect.

"Just start riding. We’re going to lose him."
"As my darling commands."
Their horse shot forward, chasing after the dust left in Gavotte’s wake.

To understand how things had escalated to this point, one would have to go back a few hours.
***
While Gavotte was preparing to leave for Whistle, I was sitting on my bed, deep in thought.

Had something happened to Minuet? What exactly was Gavotte planning to do?
I knew I was supposed to keep my distance.
And yet, my curiosity burned unbearably.

For a moment, I even considered going to Cruello’s intelligence guild.
I stared at the ring, debating, then forced myself to look away.
After exhausting myself with indecision, I collapsed backward onto the bed.

"The ceiling…"
It was bright white.
White.

Gavotte.
The words from his mouth—
"Stay and watch over the estate, Siora."

Rejected.
"Something’s off."
I was the one who had decided to put distance between us.

So why did it feel like I was the one being left behind?
Had I been too cold earlier?
No—he was just exhausted.

He’d come back from Whistle and return to being the same Gavotte.
The one who was easy to tease, naive, and panicked whenever I so much as pretended to be hurt.
"No, he shouldn’t come back!"

I grabbed the pillow beneath my head and hurled it across the room.
What was I doing?
I had distanced myself because I was afraid of getting dragged into his mess.

So why was I feeling hurt?
It wasn’t like we were actually family, just because of some official documents.
Pebula, please purify this foolish devotee’s heart.

I know I only call on you when I’m struggling, but as a god, can’t you be a little generous?
"Hngh!"
At that moment, a strong gust of wind blasted through my room, making the curtains billow wildly.

Jeez, did the fabric have to be so loud?
I sat up with a grumble.
"Pebula, I didn’t mean—"

Before I could finish, a figure emerged from behind the curtain.
Hah.
"You know, just because ‘window’ has ‘door’ in it, doesn’t mean it’s actually a door."

"Really? I thought since ‘heart’ has ‘art’ in it, I was part of your masterpiece."
The man perched on my window frame had hair the color of a clear sky, glistening in the sunlight.
Long-limbed and annoyingly graceful, he crossed his legs leisurely.

"Hello, sweetheart."
If anyone outside saw this, I’d be doomed.
I was about to scold him when he flicked his fingers.

The curtains swayed unnaturally, drifting forward to shield his back from view.
The sheer amount of magic he wasted.
I was so jealous.

"Minuet Bonetti is being detained."
"Magic—what?!"
"The Elder Council’s making quite the scene."

What the hell was going on?
Startled, I blinked as Cruello explained Minuet’s situation.
In summary—

"A power struggle? Breaking Minuet in? ‘Marry my son or you don’t get your title’?"
"Precisely."
Then why was Gavotte going? Did he actually have any leverage to negotiate with the Elder Council?

I was about to ask when—
"Of course, darling wouldn’t be interested. You did say you were distancing yourself from the siblings."
"Th-That’s right! Not interested at all! I have no idea why you’d come all this way just to tell me such pointless information!"

Knowing I was being teased and accepting it was more painful than expected.
Cruello's eyes curved into a smile.
"I figured. That’s why I brought another reason."

"…What is it? Not that I actually care. Just, you know, mild curiosity."
"I noticed you were rather fixated on the Evil God theory, so I did some personal research."
Oh, right. Pebula as an Evil God! I had completely forgotten!

But that was understandable—I wasn’t great at handling multiple thoughts at once.
Feigning composure, I crossed my legs and pretended not to be fazed.
"And I found something interesting."

"Hmm."
"Did you know that the Bonetti family originally came from a Pebula sect?"
"…Do you think I can’t fact-check you, so you’re just making things up?"

"It’s true. Hard to find, but before officially becoming House Bonetti, they were led by a High Priest overseeing a diocese."
Cruello added that he could provide proof if I wanted.
Forget proof—it didn’t even feel real.

Wasn’t this too much of a convenient coincidence?
I couldn’t just blindly assume this was some divine path laid out for me. My faith wasn’t nearly strong enough for that.
Knock knock. Pebula? Are you there? Would you mind giving me a direct revelation or something?

"Historically, the Evil God theory started spreading around that same time."
"When House Bonetti was formally established?"
"A little before. The empire wasn’t even founded yet—they were still living in tribal communities."

"Aah."
"I also heard the diary of the first Bonetti patriarch is still kept in the Count’s estate."
A diary was intriguing.

It would be far more vivid than dry historical records.
And regardless of what language it was in, I was confident I could read it.
But…

I stole a glance at Cruello, carefully shifting my eyes.
"Then… I should verify it, right? The first Bonetti’s diary. It should be in the estate."
"Of course."

"I mean, I have to know if they really had ties to Pebula. That’s part of my duty as a devotee."
"Naturally."
"I'm not interfering in Bonetti affairs or anything, but if necessary, I could visit Whistle."

"Absolutely, no choice in the matter."
His responses were coming so smoothly.
Satisfied, I left the estate.

I told the head butler I was going on a date with Cruello.
If Gavotte saw me, I didn’t want him to misinterpret this as me tailing him. To be extra cautious, I donned a hooded robe and cast an invisibility spell.
Fully prepared, I mounted my horse.

I had never learned to ride before, but there was nothing I couldn’t do.
…Or so I thought.
"What kind of body is this…?"

Siora Bonetti, as it turned out, couldn’t do everything.
Of all the bodies I had inhabited, this one was uniquely uncoordinated.
I could compensate for reflexes using divine power, but technical skills? Completely useless.

I should have known when my sword swings had looked like a child’s scribbles.
So, after laughing at me for a while, Cruello had no choice but to let me ride with him.
That brought us to now.

Where I was mentally bidding farewell to my lower half.
Horseback riding meant death by saddle sores.
Even the endurance I had built up was proving useless.

Trying to distract myself from the pain, I suddenly remembered something I had forgotten.
"I never actually thanked you. For looking into it."
"Hmm. Getting thanked for background checks feels a little awkward."

"Ooh, now that sounded like genuine embarrassment."
"…"
"Why were all your previous fiancées so scared of you, anyway? You’re actually nicer than I expected."

Ever since learning I was a Pebula devotee, Cruello had been noticeably warmer.
But even before that, he hadn’t been that bad.
If he had treated everyone this way, I doubted they would have been begging to break off engagements.

Maybe it really had been the Elder Council interfering?
"Not sure. I never treated them badly, but for some reason, they’d always cower. It was boring."
"Oh."

Right, his hobby was exposing corruption.
I had seen that firsthand.
I supposed I couldn’t blame everything on the Elder Council.

"You really did go easy on Bonetti, didn’t you? You didn’t even do anything."
"My habit of digging up scandals was just me lashing out. In my previous betrothals, my own wishes were barely considered."
"And this time…?"

"You were the one who proposed it, but I made the choice. I’m satisfied."
…Was he aging backward?
Honestly, he had seemed more mature when he was younger.

Back then, I had wished he would act more like a child.
Now, I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
"You should have just been matched with someone strong from the start. Then they wouldn’t have feared you."

"…Do you really think you’re unafraid just because of divine power?"
"Aren’t I?"
No.

There were several reasons, but the most fundamental one—
This isn’t my body.
Even if Siora died, even if the world itself perished, I would survive.

But I couldn’t exactly say that.
"So let’s just pretend that’s the case!"