The missing ledger sheet wouldn't leave her mind all night. 　More than the sensation of fingers overlapping in the archive last night, it was the absence of the parchment she'd discovered afterward that cut deep into Alicia now. That calculation sheet from five years ago. The single page with the most critical figures. Someone had broken into the archive and extracted only that one. 　It meant only one thing. 　The enemy knew their moves. 　Alicia walked through the corridor where morning light streamed in, arranging her strategy in her head. Emotions could wait. First, what needed to be done. 　Leon's office was at the eastern end of the second floor. She knocked, and the reply came immediately—"Come in." A warm, calm voice. 　The room was stacked with documents. Valton Leon sat at his desk reading something, but the moment he saw Alicia's face, his expression shifted slightly. "Good morning, Alicia. …Is something wrong?" 　His golden hair caught the morning light, translucent. His pale blue eyes looked straight at her. Worry was written across his face. Since last night, she'd felt that his ability to read expressions was extraordinary—perhaps because he struggled with numbers. "A calculation sheet has gone missing." 　She stated it plainly. Leon stood up. "From last night?" "Yes. The one with the embezzlement estimate from five years ago. When I checked this morning, it was gone. Those footsteps last night—they might not have been the night watch." 　Leon looked out the window for a moment. The morning town of Trene spread quietly beyond the tributary of the Minol River. Merchant carts were already beginning to appear on the stone-paved streets. "So someone is tracking our movements." "Likely. Either someone broke into the archive, or there's an informant somewhere. Either way, if we only examine the ledgers, evidence will keep disappearing." 　Alicia continued. "I think we should see the site directly. Verify at Trene Market whether the construction listed as repair expenses actually took place. If we cross-reference the ledger figures with the actual conditions, evidence remains. The site is harder to erase than documents." 　Leon nodded immediately. He didn't hesitate. That was one of his strengths, Alicia thought. "I'm coming too." "You'll be fine alone, but…" "Two is better." 　There was no further explanation. It was brief, but carried an undeniable certainty. Alicia gave a small nod. "Then could you arrange a carriage? As for the cost—" "Cost?" "It's a matter of ledger entries. Should we include it as inspection expenses within the territory budget, or—" "Ah, yes… um, where would that go?" 　Leon's brows furrowed slightly in confusion. Whether naturally honest or simply unfamiliar with numbers, he suddenly looked helpless when figures came up. Seeing that, Alicia felt some tension drain from her shoulders. "…Do you need an explanation right now?" "S-sorry. Understood, just arrange the carriage for me." 　Watching Leon answer with a wry smile, Alicia let out a small breath. The tense air eased just slightly. --- 　Trene Market Square was said to overflow with activity on market days—held three times a week—but today wasn't one of them. Still, several permanent stalls lined the square's perimeter, and people moved across the stone pavement. 　But the stones themselves were in terrible condition. 　Alicia noticed the moment she stepped down from the carriage. As her foot touched the ground, the gap between stones had sunken deeply, and she nearly stumbled. Leon's hand shot out quickly, steadying her elbow. "…Thank you." "Be careful." 　The words were brief, and his hand released immediately. He maintains proper distance, Alicia thought. 　The market administrator, Corne Hasse, was in a small shed at the square's edge. A man of about forty-five, sun-darkened and straightforward-looking, with the angular hands of a former farmer. Learning of Valton Leon's and Miss Alicia's visit, he was clearly nervous, but his expression wasn't that of someone hiding something. "Regarding the stonework, there are repair records in the ledger. Both five years ago and three years ago were marked as construction completed." 　Corne smiled bitterly. A truly bitter smile. "The stonemasons did come both times. But they left after two days. Before even half the work was done. No one came after that." "Did the contractor submit completion documents?" "They did. It was Lord Galbert who received them." 　The moment that name was spoken, Corne's face hardened slightly. The repair expenses recorded in the ledger had never actually been used. The contractor and steward had conspired to create completion documents only, splitting the funds. It was the most classical embezzlement method Alicia had seen in her previous life's accounting work. 　Corne offered to show them the water channel as well. 　At the western edge of the market square, near the ferry crossing of the Minol River, an agricultural irrigation channel ran. It should have once carried water to nourish the farmland, but now mud clogged it, and in places the bottom was completely dry. 　Leon crouched at the channel's edge. His fingertips touched the dried mud. "With this… it's no wonder the harvest fell." 　His voice was quiet. Whether angry or sorrowful was hard to judge. But Corne stood beside him, looking in the same direction. Two farmers gazing at a neglected water channel—that was the image. "Village Chief Otto Fraha of Fraha Village made several requests for repairs. But each time, he was told there were no funds." 　There were funds. The ledger showed them. The work was marked complete. But nothing had actually been done. (This is "confirmation.") 　Something shifted inside Alicia. While examining the ledgers, doubt had lingered. But now, before her eyes, lay cracked stones and a dried channel. Numbers were evidence, but the site was more direct proof. This couldn't be erased. Stealing one document couldn't steal the mud clogging the water channel. --- 　The office of arithmetician Nadia Rothfeld was a small building with a wooden sign, two streets over from Trene Market Square. "Arithmetician's Office—Ledger Management and Tax Consultation for the Territory" was written on it. 　The thirty-three-year-old arithmetician was slimmer than expected, with sharp eyes. The moment a client entered and she saw Leon's ducal crest, she stood. But when she saw Alicia, her expression moved more complexly. 　Alicia spread copies of the ledgers on the desk and began explaining. Inconsistencies in repair expenses and asset transfers. The progression of figures across fiscal years. Nadia initially nodded politely as she listened. But the moment Alicia began writing on parchment the format of double-entry bookkeeping—debit and credit columns arranged side by side, organizing expenses and asset movements year by year—her attitude changed. 　She stood from her chair. "…What is this?" "The format of double-entry bookkeeping. By recording each transaction simultaneously from both expense and asset perspectives, numerical contradictions become immediately apparent." "Double-entry bookkeeping…" 　Nadia stared at the table intently. Surprise showed on her face—the realization that such an organization method existed outside the knowledge drilled into her at the academy. "The Royal Arithmetician Academy doesn't teach this method." "I learned it from the wisdom of distant merchants." 　It wasn't a lie. That was the most natural way to explain what she'd learned in her previous life. 　Nadia studied the table for a while, then looked up. "I'll help. Let me calculate with you." 　Three people gathered around the desk. Alicia created the framework, Nadia verified the ledger figures, and Leon watched silently. Aware he couldn't follow the detailed numbers, he didn't interfere. Only occasionally did he ask, "What does that mean?" Those questions were clear, and they helped Alicia organize her thoughts as she explained. 　An hour later, the figure emerged. 　Total embezzlement, estimated at twelve thousand Resta silver coins. 　The moment Alicia finished writing that number on parchment, her hand trembled slightly. In a world where a farmer's annual income was about fifteen silver coins, twelve thousand was an incomprehensible sum. Beyond what Galbert alone could handle. There was an organization behind him. No doubt remained. (In my previous life too, I missed things. Three months without noticing. The damage kept accumulating while I overlooked it.) 　This time would be different. 　Leon watched Alicia's profile, her lips pressed tight. He said nothing, but his expression softened slightly. --- 　Some time after the carriage began its return journey, the sky's color changed. 　Gray clouds spread in an instant. What first appeared as distant light became, in the next moment, heavy rain pouring down. 　The driver stopped the carriage. "My apologies, in this rain the road is invisible. There should be an inn ahead—" "Go there." 　With that brief instruction, the carriage moved, but by the time they reached the inn "Barley Light," both were soaked through. The carriage's canopy wasn't fully waterproof. 　Opening the inn's door, they were greeted by firelight and the smell of burning wood. The innkeeper, Elsa Trent, was a woman of about fifty with a rounded figure. Seeing their condition, she frowned, then moved without hesitation. "My, so drenched. Come warm yourselves by the fire. Will you be staying the night?" "Please. Two rooms." "I'll prepare them right away. For now, warm yourselves." 　Elsa brought blankets and showed them to chairs by the fireplace. A few other guests were in the inn, drinking beer in the back, paying them no attention. 　Alicia sat in the chair, gazing blankly at the flames. 　Her body was cold. Chilled to the core. Wringing her sleeve, water dripped from her fingertips to the floor. (Twelve thousand silver coins…) 　The number circled in her mind. Whether from exhaustion or from concentrating too hard, her fingertips felt numb. 　Suddenly, she felt weight. 　Something fell on her shoulders. 　Turning, Leon was placing his own coat over her shoulders. Silently. Just that, but the coat still held his body heat inside, and the warmth seeped from her shoulder—the opposite of the cold dampness outside. 　Leather, wood smoke, and the faint scent of grass. "…Um—" 　She tried to thank him. But her voice caught in her throat. More precisely, it stuck there. Her cheeks suddenly burned, and realizing that made them burn more. "You were cold." 　His voice was low. Close. When Alicia looked up, Leon had settled into the adjacent chair. The distance was near. The fireplace chairs were naturally positioned close, but there was almost no space between their shoulders. "…I'm fine." 　She tried to sound composed, but her voice came out slightly hoarse. Leon's gaze came to her cheek, then moved back to the flames. Water remained in her hair, clinging to her cheek. Feeling it at the edge of her vision, she realized there was nothing to be done and left it. 　The fireplace crackled. Orange light flickered, and the shadows of two figures on the wall overlapped. 　Through the coat, Leon's shoulder heat reached her. Hard, the heat of a trained body. Alicia became aware of it, aware that she was aware, and turned her eyes back to the flames. She tried to think of numbers. Twelve thousand silver coins. Repair expenses. Double-entry bookkeeping. —It didn't work. Nothing entered her head. (In my previous life as an office worker, I suppressed these feelings better. Why can't I now?) 　It was the seventeen-year-old body's fault, she half-excused herself. 　Leon, still watching the flames, spoke quietly. "When you were confirming the figures with Nadia earlier… what were you thinking then?" 　The question was sudden, but held no accusation. Simply curiosity. 　Alicia thought for a moment before answering. "Once, so