12 O’Clock Marionette

Several people cast glances in this direction.
“Really? You weren’t eating at all, so I thought you were worried about the taste.”
That wasn’t even the topic, yet he pretended not to know.

I shot Cruello a glare, but he simply feigned ignorance and stood up.
“Shall we get going?”
With guidance, we ascended to the second floor.

The wooden door opened more smoothly than expected.
Rolling my eyes quickly, I realized—again—the obvious.
There was only one bed!

Without hesitation, I spoke.
“The bed is mine.”
Tick, tick—the sound of the clock stacked heavily in the silence.

Blinking absentmindedly, I rolled around on the bed.
It wasn’t so hard that it hurt my back, but it wasn’t exactly plush either.
Still, it was better than Cruello, who would be sleeping on the floor with only a blanket.

"……."
Most of the castle fell asleep by 1 AM.
There were still two hours left, and after an unfamiliar day on horseback, exhaustion had built up in my body.

Yet, sleep refused to come.
With my eyes now accustomed to the darkness, I stared blankly at the ceiling.
I knew those patterns so well that I could draw them in my mind without even looking.
Sigh.

“Cruello, are you asleep?”
“No.”
His response was immediate.

Like someone who already knew what I was going to say, there was a faint amusement in his voice.
“Just sleep. I’ll wake you.”
“That’s not it…”

“Do you have something else to say?”
I let out a deep sigh.
Had I always been this soft?

“The bed is too uncomfortable to sleep.”
***
Gavotte Bonetti.

The second son of the deceased Count stood before the castle gates, taking a steady breath.
When the doors finally opened, he spoke.
“I need to see Minuet.”

“Please wait just a moment, Lord Gavotte.”
The result of that request? Confinement.
Bang!

The heavy doors shut behind him, and Gavotte let out a dry chuckle.
A large, luxurious room—he was told to ‘wait.’
It sounded reasonable enough on the surface, but stripping him of his guards and posting sentries outside the door—how was that any different from imprisonment?

Sprawling onto the bed, Gavotte let out a long sigh.
“Right. As if it would be that easy.”
From the looks of it, they had no intention of using him as an heir substitute.

The fragile hope he had desperately inflated collapsed in an instant.
Still, he had no intention of giving up so easily.
Feigning compliance, Gavotte closed his eyes for the time being.

Leaving Siora’s estate made it easier to sleep.
After the funeral, he had only been sleeping two hours a day, but now, exhaustion loosened its grip.
When he opened his eyes again, the night had deepened.

His thoughts were sharper, clear—but also laced with unease.
Hurriedly, he pulled the curtains aside.
“Whew, the sun’s not up yet.”

He couldn’t tell the exact time, but that was a relief. The night was when he needed to move.
Gavotte recalled his hidden weapon—one that no one among his enemies knew about.
Back then, he had made quite the spectacle, but after discussing it with Minuet, they had agreed to keep it a secret.

“Pianissimo.”
His spirit.
A point in the air drew in the surrounding atmosphere.

A small current formed a rounded shape, taking on a pale green hue.
The tiny, round bird—what Siora called a ‘rice sparrow’—fluttered its eyes open.
Peep!

It was still small, its capabilities limited, but its presence was barely perceptible.
With the right presentation, one might call it… discreet.
Gavotte whispered with affection.

“I’m counting on you, Pianissimo.”
And so, the sparrow’s mission began.
The round, flat bird first enveloped Gavotte in its energy, reducing his presence to something as faint as a passing breeze.

Then, with great confidence, Pianissimo slipped through the door and put the guard to sleep.
After that, it sniffed the air deeply—wrinkling its tiny beak in concentration—before guiding Gavotte along the right path.
Whenever someone approached, the bird gave a subtle warning, helping him avoid detection.

It even found perfect hiding spots when needed.
For a moment, Gavotte felt like an assassin.
And so, at last, the young man, aided by the sparrow spirit’s efforts, succeeded in locating his sister.

Or rather, he had only managed to reach the door of the room where Minuet was confined.
Pointing at the door, which lacked even a handle, Gavotte asked,
“This is it?”

Pianissimo nodded before throwing itself toward the door as if attempting to pass through.
Thump!
A weak sound rang out as the spirit was abruptly repelled.

Gavotte quickly reached out, catching the tiny bird in his hands.
“Pianissimo!”
Peep…

Hearing the dispirited cry of his spirit, Gavotte raised his head in alarm.
Carefully, he placed a hand against the door.
The spirit’s energy couldn’t penetrate—it was being pushed back.

“Damn it. They went all out on this.”
It seemed they had sealed the energy itself to prevent Minuet from using spirits to escape.
He had expected, at most, a pair of enchanted shackles, not a complete magical barrier over the entire room.

No wonder there were no guards stationed outside.
What now? If Pianissimo couldn’t open it, then he wouldn’t be able to get inside.
‘No windows… Maybe there’s a connected ventilation shaft?’

Gavotte decided to withdraw for the moment, assessing the castle’s structure further.
Surely, it wasn’t a completely isolated chamber—there had to be a way in.
Though Pianissimo’s spirits were dampened, it wasn’t injured. The small bird led Gavotte back to the room where he had been confined.

On the way—
“…Proceed. The maximum limit is 30%.”
A conversation from a nearby room made Gavotte halt in his tracks.

The voice was unfamiliar to him.
It was low, deep, and rumbled with a predatory menace.
But the other speaker—Gavotte recognized immediately.

“If it exceeds that, may I ask what will happen?”
‘The Second Elder!’
The man who had taken control of the Elder Council in place of Bonetti’s frail Grand Elder.

Gavotte clenched his fists, focusing on the conversation.
“Of course, we’ll take every precaution on our end, but unforeseen circumstances can arise.”
“If you go beyond the limit, the effects will multiply several times over—far beyond what you can handle.”

“Hmm, understood. Then, when will you collect the remaining quantity?”
“Do I look like I have time for that? I gave you an ample amount to prepare for emergencies. Deal with the leftovers yourself.”
They were deliberately avoiding direct terms, making it impossible to tell what exactly they were discussing.

However—
‘They’re goading him.’
It felt as though they were subtly pressuring the other person into using whatever this substance was excessively.

Gavotte narrowed his eyes, pressing himself closer to the door.
Just then, Pianissimo tapped his cheek.
A warning—someone was approaching!

Gavotte immediately pulled back.
The corridor was a straight passage. His only options were forward or back.
But as he hesitated, Pianissimo struck his cheek again.

‘Damn it, they’re coming from both sides.’
In a split-second decision, Gavotte turned toward the window opposite the door.
He rushed over, unlatched it, and stepped onto the balcony.

But the space was too exposed to be a proper hiding spot.
Anyone outside could spot him, and if someone merely peeked down the corridor, he’d be caught instantly.
Even with Pianissimo suppressing his presence, he wasn’t invisible.

Placing a hand over his racing heart, Gavotte swallowed hard.
‘Should I jump?’
One glance at the drop below, and his face went pale.

Getting caught might be the better option.
At that moment, he finally heard the footsteps of the two guards.
One from the left, one from the right.

The footsteps grew closer until—
At last, they crossed paths.
“Patrol check, Sector 2─C, all clear.”

“Patrol check, Sector 2─D, all clear.”
Thump, thump, thump.
Gavotte’s heartbeat pounded harder and harder.

His fingers turned white as he gripped the balcony railing with all his strength.
‘Don’t come this way, please!’
But fate had little interest in his pleas. One of the guards turned toward the balcony.

Three steps.
Two steps.
And then—

“Urgent news, Second Elder!”
A sharp voice cut through the tension.
The opposite door burst open, drawing every gaze toward the sudden commotion.

The patrolling guards hesitated, thrown off by the interruption. And as if deciding that they wanted no part in their superior’s affairs, they simply continued past one another, walking away.
The balcony was safe.
Gavotte exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his chest in relief.

“I am currently hosting guests,” came the irritated voice from the now-open room. “What is the meaning of this abrupt intrusion?”
“I-I apologize, sir, but this matter is urgent…!”
“What is it?”

“The Duke of White Desert has arrived at the castle.”
…What?
Gavotte blinked in disbelief.

***
“I must say, this is quite unexpected. A guest at this hour….”
An elderly man in silk robes greeted us.

Hollowed cheeks, lips that curled inward, and a miserly mustache—his features were so reminiscent of a rat that it was almost uncanny.
Bonetti’s Second Elder—according to Cruello, at least. His appearance suited the title all too well.
“I must apologize, but we received no word from the border checkpoint. May I ask when you arrived at Whistle?”

“You may not.”
“…Pardon?”
“It is late, and I am weary.” Cruello exhaled in mock exhaustion. “Does Bonetti offer no refreshment to weary travelers?”

Somehow, despite smiling, he managed to exude sheer irritation.
Even I had to admit his brazenness was impressive. Yet the Second Elder dared not protest against the Duke of White Desert.
Instead, he hurriedly gestured for a servant to bring tea.

“And the young lady accompanying you…?”
“You’re asking as if you don’t know.”
“I merely wondered how you came to travel together.” The elder’s smile twisted. “Yes, yes. I am aware that she is the late Count’s third child. Her name was Siora, was it not?”

“You’re speaking informally?”
“Ah—!”
The Second Elder’s voice rose momentarily before he caught himself.

Well, of course. Telling him to address me with formal speech must have been a bitter pill to swallow.
The Elder Council rarely spoke in full honorifics, even to the heads of noble families.
I wasn’t familiar with Bonetti’s customs, but White Desert was much the same, so I assumed the dynamic was similar.

Feigning politeness, I said,
“You don’t need to be so formal, Second Elder.”
“Ah, yes! Child, you wouldn’t know this, but I am actually Paspié’s uncle.”

“Wow, really? Then you should be even more comfortable speaking to me!”
“Why, of course—”
“Until the wedding, that is.”

What are you glaring at?
Outside these walls, status ruled everything. Did he think I wouldn’t know that?
If he kept addressing me informally and then suddenly had to switch to honorifics, it was going to be deliciously satisfying.

“…Regardless, I must ask the reason for your visit—”
“Oh, one moment.”
Having been interrupted three times already, the Second Elder’s expression visibly crumpled.

But that was unimportant.
For some time now, the door behind him had been rattling faintly.
I couldn’t sense any particular presence, but my gut told me that something was there.

I held up a finger to my lips—Shh.
Then, moving carefully, I reached for the door and—
BANG!

“AAAHH!”
The moment I yanked it open, the person leaning against it collapsed forward like a toppled pitcher of water.