12 O’Clock Marionette

Silver hair rippled like waves, and though exhaustion clung to his features, his beauty remained unmistakable.
The young man lay sprawled on the floor, unmoving.
“…Gavotte?”

“……”
His entire body flushed crimson with embarrassment—his face, his neck, his hands, even his ankles.
How amusing. I had never seen someone burn with humiliation so intensely before.

Meanwhile, Gavotte’s sparrow fluttered toward me, rubbing its tiny face against my cheek.
Sometimes, I felt like this little creature liked me more than its own master.
I absentmindedly stroked the downy feathers on its chest before looking down at Gavotte.

Then, gathering as much solemnity as I could muster, I asked,
“Any thoughts on your current situation?”
Gavotte squeezed his eyes shut—then suddenly snapped them open.

Though his face remained as red as a cherry, his pupils were unfocused, dazed.
Then, he shouted,
“Minuet is imprisoned! Help me!”

“Oh.”
Now that’s an interesting answer.
***

"Imprisonment? Nonsense! It’s merely a misunderstanding, a matter of circumstances…"
The Second Elder, having regained his composure, rambled on and on until the mere sound of his voice became grating.
But the moment Cruello’s gaze flickered toward him, he fell silent.
At this point, I had to admit—Cruello’s terrifying reputation was proving quite convenient.

When it came to handling people, Cruello was always the answer!
Of course, the Second Elder had one last attempt at resistance.
“Th-this is an internal Bonetti matter. Even if you are the Duke of White Desert, interfering in our family’s affairs is—”

“Uncle!”
And that was that.
He couldn’t feign neutrality when Cruello was my fiancé. I was a Bonetti as well.

No matter how powerful the Elder Council was, Cruello was stronger.
And more importantly, the legitimate heirs of the late Count had all the justification on their side.
Reluctantly, the Second Elder led us forward.

The door had no handle.
I wondered how we were supposed to enter—until one of the elder’s subordinates reached for a lantern affixed to the wall and pulled it down.
With a heavy creak, the door slid open.

“A secret passage.”
A fitting feature for an old castle.
And so, after a long time, I finally reunited with Minuet.

The way she stepped out of the room…
For a moment, I thought I was staring at a restrained beast, poised to pounce.
I had already been curious about how she had been captured so easily.

That question was answered soon enough.
“Where is my mother?”
So they had taken the Countess as a hostage. Bold move.

The Second Elder, sweating profusely, answered,
“She is recuperating at the temple. Ever since what happened to Paspié, her condition has worsened.”
“Which temple?”

“...The one under the care of High Priest Denbel.”
Minuet immediately ordered her subordinates—who had also been released—to verify the claim.
After that, silence fell over the room.

I glanced around idly and, for the first time, found myself struck by how much Cruello stood out.
Why was he here?
And why was I here?

Our eyes met.
He smiled, utterly unbothered.
At least… he was pretty when he smiled.

“I understand if my methods felt a bit forceful, and I apologize for that.”
“You mean to tell me this wasn’t imprisonment?”
“Gavotte, I only wanted you all to calm down. Nothing can be resolved in a state of agitation.”

And then—
“Nothing has changed. Young Count, if you wish to inherit the title, you still require the Elder Council’s approval.”
The Second Elder paused and turned to look at me.

I blinked, saying nothing, but he continued anyway.
“A Count can only be appointed with the consent of the majority of the Twelve Elders.”
“But Minuet is already the designated heir.”

“That was not a standard succession. These measures exist in case an heir is suspected of killing their predecessor. Of course, I don’t believe the Young Count did anything of the sort, but…”
“So?”
“…I’ve been hesitant to say it outright, but the decision has already been made.”

The old man let out a thin sigh.
“The Council has ruled that an unmarried heir cannot ascend to the position of Count.”
“Uncle!”

“Stay put, Gavotte.”
“You both know this is unprecedented in Bonetti history. So, Young Count, your options are as follows.”
The Second Elder’s previously composed expression shifted, his gaze gleaming with unmistakable greed.

“You can either renounce the title… or marry Mikael.”
“The Third Elder’s son would make an excellent match, don’t you think? Mikael Bonetti is well-regarded, after all.”
So that was their real goal.

Honestly, their intentions had been clear from the very moment those rumors started circulating.
“What happens if Minuet fails to inherit the title?” I asked.
“Well… the selection process would begin again, and other candidates would be reconsidered.”

“Hm.”
“Don’t look at me like that. P-procedures exist for a reason. Even White Desert has an Elder Council, does it not, Your Grace?”
Cruello’s tone was indifferent.

“Yes. And our elders constantly conspire to manipulate me as well.”
The Second Elder’s face went pale.
Did he really think Cruello was going to support his nonsense? Hilarious.

Just then, Minuet, who had been quietly listening, spoke.
Her voice carried unwavering determination.
“I will undertake the Tempestas.”

“Young Count!”
What’s that?
Reflexively, I turned to look at Cruello—only to immediately regret it.

Was I starting to rely on him too much lately?
Either way, he responded without hesitation.
“The Tempestas is an ancient Bonetti tradition—a trial for the head of the household.”

The requirement for an Elder Council’s approval made title succession highly vulnerable to corruption.
To prevent talented spiritists from being pushed aside, the first Bonetti patriarch had created an alternative test.
A massive magic circle, carved into a cliff—

The trial known as Tempestas.
The one who overcomes the trial earns the right to ascend as the head of the family.
However, failure meant death.

As the generations passed, the power of the Bonetti family's spirits had weakened. In fact, for the last several generations, no one had even attempted the trial.
That, at least, was how Cruello explained it.
“They say there are two gates within the trial, but I don’t know the details.”

Saying this, he fixed the Second Elder with an unwavering stare.
The silent demand for an answer made the old man tremble.
“That… is classified information. Even among the Elder Council, only the Grand Elder is privy to such details, so I… truly do not—”

Then why are you shaking?
It was no different from a confession.
Realizing his mistake, the Second Elder hastily changed the subject.

“A-a-are you truly choosing this path?”
“The Tempestas is a rightful trial for heirs. You can’t refuse me.”
“Well, that may be true, but…”

Though the Second Elder feigned reluctance, a strange gleam flickered in his eyes.
I wasn’t imagining it.
“Half of those who enter never return. I must at least be able to face the late Count without shame.”

“And?”
“I cannot simply send you to your death. Therefore…”
The old man turned toward Cruello.

It was obvious—he had been waiting for this exact moment.
“Would you be willing to accompany her as an observer? Should she find herself in danger, I would ask that you ensure the Young Count’s survival. Of course, you will be handsomely compensated for your trouble.”
“Oh? And weren’t you the one who told me not to interfere in family matters?”

“Well, Siora can accompany her as well. What do you think, child? Aren’t you and Minuet close?”
“…Second Elder, no matter what, this is a family issue. How could—”
“Young Count, you will remain silent. You must remember that you are not acting for yourself alone!”

Cruello glanced at me briefly, as if in thought, then nodded.
Since when did he decide that Minuet and I were close?
This whole situation reeked of a trap.

But if a hunter lays a snare, that means they’ll come to check on it.
“Fine! But I have a condition of my own.”
“…What?”

The Elder hesitated before nodding. “Speak.”
I wasn’t about to walk into a trap empty-handed.
“I want to read the diary of Bonetti’s founder.”

***
And so, contrary to my original plan, I gained legitimate access to the diary.
The founder’s writings were stored in the Count’s private study.

At first, I intended to go in alone, but somehow, the Bonetti siblings followed me inside.
Cruello, uninterested, opted to stay behind.
Not that they were here to spy on me.

“Tempestas, Tempestas…”
The study contained more than just the founder’s diary.
It held records left behind by every Bonetti Count throughout history.

Gavotte, eyes bloodshot with intensity, seemed convinced there were clues about the trial hidden within.
While he scanned the shelves, I searched for the founder’s writings.
“…Is this the first Count? No, there’s someone before him… Ah.”

Flipping through the books, I finally found it.
It was just as old and worn as the spirit summoning scroll Gavotte had shown me.
The text inside was written in Ancient Divine Script.

Minuet, passing by with another record, glanced at the book.
“That’s Ancient Divine Script. Can you read it?”
“A little? I must have studied it when I was younger.”

“…Even scholars have only managed to decipher about half of it.”
“Well, I’m just curious, so I’m skimming.”
No need to take it too seriously.

The first few pages described the founder’s life in the temple—
Prayers, cleaning the shrine, missionary work… peaceful, mundane details.
The real content began later in the journal.

[Date Unknown]
"They say our order has been sacrificing followers."
"That cannot be true. The Saint would never allow it."

"I traveled to another temple, but the entire Fugah Shrine had vanished without a trace."
"Where did they go?"
"Now I hear I am being hunted as well."

"I must flee."
[Date Unknown]
"The Recanon Church is tracking us."

"Pebula, please watch over your faithful."
[Date Unknown]
"I met the Saint today."

"He remained silent when I asked about the sacrifices. Instead, he left us with two items:"
"A parchment inscribed with a magic circle—"
"And a relic from Recanon."

"He assured us that with the Recanon Saint gone, their pursuit would slow."
"If we wait just a little longer, the truth will be revealed."
"The others rejoiced, but I had my doubts."

"Why did he not deny the accusations?"
[Date Unknown]
"The Saint has vanished without a word."

"The Recanon Church is hunting us more aggressively than ever."
"Pebula… have you abandoned your followers?"
"Or…"

"Did you truly demand the sacrifices?"
"…Perhaps because I doubted the divine, my holy power has begun to fade."