She opened the sealed letter. 　In the flickering candlelight, Blackthorn Evangeline's fingers broke the wax seal. A crest of two overlapping wings from left and right——an unfamiliar design that belonged to no court house. Evangeline quickly cross-referenced her memories from her previous life, but no matching crest emerged. It was likely not the mark of any specific person or family, but rather a design used by some organization or individual independently. The crest crumbled. 　Three folded sheets of paper spread across the desk. 　The first was a series of numbers. Income, expenditure, borrowing, repayment. At the end of each column, the years from Imperial Calendar 597 to 599 were inscribed. At first glance, it was merely a financial record. But Evangeline's finger stopped at a certain number. （Only one person could know this figure——） 　The house steward. 　Crane Marcus, steward of Blackthorn House. A man who had served this estate for over fifteen years, managing everything from finances to external negotiations. There were only about two hundred official stewards in the empire, but Marcus was exceptionally trusted among them. At least, in her previous life's memories. 　Only a steward could know these numbers. 　Evangeline moved her gaze to the second sheet. 　A few lines of brief text. The moment she finished reading, her hand stopped slightly. 　A family heirloom——the "Thorn Crown Necklace," a silver filigree necklace passed down through generations of Blackthorn House, featuring silver thorns arranged in a crown shape modeled after the family crest's black rose, serving as proof of the head of house's position——had been removed from the estate's storage vault in autumn of Imperial Calendar 596. To where. By whom. The rest of the record was absent. Only the date of removal and the signature of the confirmer remained. 　In her previous life, she had not known of this disappearance. Or rather——had she not known, or had she been made not to notice? （This timeline is not merely a do-over） 　The third sheet was blank. 　But blankness carries meaning. Perhaps the sender of the letter wanted her to bring them the "continuation" of this information. Or perhaps it was a line drawn at "this much I will tell you." Either way, it was certain that someone was observing Evangeline's movements. 　She folded the three sheets again and returned them to the envelope. Not in the back of her study drawer, but this time in a small box beneath her bed. She locked it. 　Outside the window, the sky was already beginning to take on the color of dawn. The stone pavement of the noble district floated white in the light. The sound of carriages had not yet begun. Only a few dozen minutes of silence before the servants started moving. （I could not sleep. Of course not） 　Evangeline stood and approached her wardrobe. 　Today there was an audience at the Crystal Palace. A day to stand before Emperor Kaiser Valtria III as the head of the declining Blackthorn house. What formal attire she chose would be a political statement. 　She reached for one garment. A jet-black formal dress. No gold embroidery——only silver trim adorned it. In imperial dress code, black was the color of mourning. Wearing black in the noble district would certainly draw every eye. （Not mourning. A declaration of war） 　Telling herself this, Evangeline slipped her arms through the black formal dress. ＊ 　The Crystal Palace was white. 　The Crystal Palace, the imperial residence in the noble district of the imperial capital Orthensia, was constructed of white marble and heraldic glass. Heraldic glass was a special glass refined from byproducts created in the process of heraldic arts——the empire's unique magical system where the power dwelling in family crests is fixed into matter——and possessed the property of shifting through seven colors depending on the angle of light. In the morning light especially——the heraldic glass covering the entire ceiling of the audience chamber refracted blinding white and blue, overwhelming all who entered. 　Evangeline stood in that light. 　The audience chamber was vast. A space that could comfortably hold over a hundred nobles now gathered perhaps seventy. The heads of the seven ducal houses, members of powerful marquis families, mid-ranking earls and viscounts. The empire's power structure was laid bare in the positioning within this room. 　She felt the gazes converge. 　Contempt. Curiosity. Pity. These mixed gazes, complex and layered, turned toward Evangeline in her jet-black formal dress. Why did the head of the declining Blackthorn house wear black——that question, and the amusement it provoked, thinly clouded the room's atmosphere. 　Evangeline's expression did not change. 　Precisely cross-referencing her previous life's memories, she confirmed faces and names. To the left front, the middle-aged man in ostentatious platinum embroidery was Marquis Hermann Grossmann——a powerful figure controlling the grain-producing regions of the empire's north, appearing to support the emperor while actually embodying typical fence-sitting. Diagonally behind him, the short elderly man was Viscount Sederin——in her previous life, he fell into ruin three years hence, his lands put up for auction. The signs of that collapse should already be beginning at this point. 　She confirmed the positioning of the seven ducal houses. Standing at a distance from each other in the elevated section to the north. Duke Vestyr was—— "Blackthorn Marquess, it has been quite some time." 　A voice came from the side. 　She turned. A man of average build, late forties. Flamboyant purple formal dress. Behind his genial smile lay something like an appraising light. （Earl Rantfurt. In my previous life's memories, the man who openly mocked Blackthorn House's decline） 　That he was approaching Evangeline now was to confirm her current isolation and demonstrate his superiority in a public setting. He had done the same in her previous life. That Evangeline had been unable to respond then. "Earl Rantfurt," Evangeline said quietly. "I would like to say you are unchanged, but——" "Haha, no, no, with the Blackthorn house's lord returned, surely vigor will return. After all, financial reconstruction must be urgent——" "The interest rate at the Chain Ring Hall is three percent monthly, is it not?" 　The man's smile froze. 　The Chain Ring Hall——a lending organization operating in the back alleys of the commercial district, ostensibly dealing in loans to fallen nobles and merchants struggling with cash flow, but also known for dealing in the sale of nobles' debt records and court secrets, a double-faced organization. While the empire had multiple officially recognized money changers and lending businesses, none handled information and money simultaneously like the Chain Ring Hall. Three percent monthly interest——seemingly reasonable at first glance, but structured to balloon snowball-like over time. What Evangeline knew from her previous life's memories was that this Earl Rantfurt had carried substantial debt to the Chain Ring Hall for the past five years. "What do you mean by——" "Your lordship's trading company took out a loan from the Chain Ring Hall last month, I understand," Evangeline continued. Her voice was calm. "Are you skilled at calculating interest?" 　The man could say nothing for a moment. The blood draining from his face was visible in his complexion. "……I wish you well." 　Leaving only those brief words, Earl Rantfurt disappeared into the crowd. His retreating back moved with unusual haste. 　Evangeline kept her gaze forward, her mouth corners moving slightly. （I did not intend to smile, but my chest felt somewhat lighter） 　Admitting that felt strangely frustrating. She had thought she could maintain greater composure. She had told herself that emotions could wait——yet it seemed she had not completely severed herself from her previous life's humiliation. 　The audience proceeded solemnly. The emperor spoke to each house's head from his throne, and court ceremony unfolded. Evangeline followed the prescribed order, bowed, exchanged brief greetings, and returned to her position. 　It was a time when nothing changed. Yet in that "nothing changed," countless threads of power were woven. ＊ 　The audience dispersed. 　People began to move, departing together into the corridors. Evangeline walked at a slight distance from the flow of people. The Crystal Palace's corridors were long. White marble floors absorbed footsteps, and the heraldic glass ceiling scattered the afternoon light into seven colors. Beyond the windows, meticulously maintained gardens spread, and trees finished with their winter preparations stood quietly in rows. 　Footsteps approached from further down the corridor. "Blackthorn Marquess." 　From the voice alone, she knew who it was. 　She turned. Dark brown short hair, clear silver eyes. A height of one hundred eighty-five centimeters that seemed too large for the white corridor to contain, radiating a presence that transcended the space. A small heraldic apparatus earring on his right ear——an ornament used as an auxiliary tool in heraldic arts, said to stabilize the wearer's magical power. Beneath his composed bearing lay something sharp, like measurement. 　Adrian Vestyr. Head of Ducal House Vestyr, thirty-two years old. The seven ducal houses had sworn a blood covenant with the first emperor at the empire's founding, and Vestyr House, as the foremost among them, held the most extensive territories and political influence. Adrian, as its head, maintained a vast estate one point two kilometers west of the Crystal Palace, commanded one hundred twenty servants, and was said to currently enjoy the thickest trust of Emperor Kaiser Valtria III in the court. 　In her previous life's memories, this person's image had always lingered at the edge of mist. "Duke Vestyr," Evangeline answered. "Please forgive my delayed greeting." "There was no opportunity during the audience," Adrian said. "I had not seen you in some time, so. I had heard you had returned to the capital, but——" "The estate's affairs required considerable time." "I see." 　It was a brief phrase. Yet within that "I see," Evangeline sensed countless folded questions. （He is probing. He is watching my changes） 　Evangeline attempted to calculate Adrian as a piece in her game of interests. The political power of a ducal house, influence over the emperor, whether this person would become an ally or obstacle in her revenge plan——she tried to draw forth memories from her previous life's court. 　Mist. 　In her previous life's court, in the Chamber of Balance——the only place within the palace where grave crimes of nobility were judged——what had Adrian Vestyr been doing? Had he supported the verdict? Or—— 　The memory had gone white and vanished. The faces of other nobles remained vivid, yet only this person sank into mist. "With the lord of house returning, the court's balance may shift somewhat," Adrian continued. "Blackthorn House is, after all, one of the seven founding covenant families." "Only honor remains in our house," Evangeline answered. "Honor without substance is merely decoration." 　Adrian's silver eyes moved for just an instant. "If you say such things," he said, his voice carrying warmth yet unmistakable probing, "then you must have some means of reclaiming that substance." "Means is too grand a word. I simply do not wish to let pride die." 　There was a brief pause. "That black formal dress," Adrian said. "I did not read it as mourning." 　Evangeline's movements stopped for just an instant. 　Everyone in the court had interpreted that black as the design of mourning clothes——or had mocked it as befitting a fallen house's lord. Yet only this man read it differently. Not mourning. What that signified, he had not put into words, but he had certainly seen through the true intent of this color. （He is looking at me as an equal）