Three days had passed since the audience at the Glass Palace. The ash-winged crest carved into the murals of that corridor—in the district of the Soot Riot, etched so quietly it seemed to breathe with the palace stone itself—its outline still lingered in the corner of her mind. Blackthorn Evangeline leaned into the sway of the carriage, her gaze turning toward the window. The morning of the imperial capital, Orthensia, always began in the commercial district. The stone buildings lining the far bank of the Zelnica River reflected the pale winter light in white tones. The Red Anchor Market—sprawling along the western bank of the Zelnica, the empire's largest permanent marketplace—was already raising its stalls. Two rows of permanent stone shops lined the riverside avenue, with temporary vendors filling the spaces between them. Known for the breadth of goods it handled—from foodstuffs to leather to metalwork—it served as the empire's price indicator, drawing merchants and officials every morning. The scent of pickled vegetables and dried fish seemed to drift on the river breeze. (The Scale Hall. That is where I must go.) Evangeline adjusted her gloves. The silver bracelet at her left wrist—the heraldic device of House Blackthorn—transmitted its intricate craftsmanship even through the fabric. The contents recorded on the second sealed letter remained etched in her mind even now, three days later. The Blackthorn family heirloom, the "Thorn Crown Necklace," had been removed from the estate's repository in the autumn of Imperial Year 596—neither its destination nor the name of the one who took it was recorded. To trace those fragments of record, she would need the information network of an organization that controlled the empire's distribution. The Scale Merchant Guild—established in Imperial Year 447 through joint investment by five prominent merchant houses of the capital, with a history of one hundred fifty years, it was the empire's largest economic organization. It handled everything from the arbitration of commercial disputes to logistics management, warehouse operations, and the preservation of transport records. It was said that the majority of goods flowing through the capital left some trace in its records. Whether noble or commoner, anyone conducting business in the capital moved under the watchful eye of the Scale Merchant Guild—such was the extent of its influence. Its headquarters, the Scale Hall, stood at the center of the commercial district facing the Red Anchor Market. The carriage lurched once on the stone pavement and came to a stop. "We've arrived, Miss," the coachman said. Evangeline pushed open the door and stepped onto the stone pavement. The Scale Hall was a three-story stone structure positioned at the heart of the commercial district. The first and second floors served as operational areas, while the third floor housed the executive offices of the chairman and senior staff. The building's scale and solid construction announced the organization's standing at a glance. Above the front entrance hung an iron sign shaped like a balance scale, swaying slightly in the morning wind, its arms oscillating with mechanical regularity. Evangeline stood before the building and pushed open the door. The first floor was divided into reception and waiting areas, where visitors stated their business and were directed to the appropriate personnel. A young male clerk sat at the reception desk, and he looked up as Evangeline approached. He appeared to be in the midst of recording visitor information in neat script, his quill pen still in hand. "Blackthorn Evangeline, head of House Blackthorn. I wish to request an audience with Chairman Lucette Montclair," Evangeline said. The clerk's pen began to move, about to inscribe her name in the ledger—when the door opened again. The clerk's gaze shifted toward the entrance. Evangeline turned, just half a step. "Adrian Vestyr, Duke of Vestyr. I request an audience with the chairman," Adrian said. A beat of silence followed. The clerk, having confirmed the speaker's identity, took up the ledger again and moved his pen while speaking in an official tone. "The Blackthorn representative arrived first. Both of you may need to wait some time for an audience with the chairman." Evangeline turned slowly. Adrian Vestyr was looking at her. Dark brown short hair with a natural wave. Clear silver eyes. His tall frame of 185 centimeters was wrapped in a well-tailored deep blue overcoat, and a small heraldic device pierced his right ear, catching the morning light faintly. His bearing naturally exuded the dignity of the empire's foremost duke. Adrian's expression was calm, but his silver eyes—for just an instant—held a probing light. (The same morning. The same place.) Evangeline quickly organized the fact in her mind. Was he pursuing suspicious movements of imperial funds, or did he have another purpose? Either way, the fact that Adrian Vestyr had turned his attention to the Scale Merchant Guild's information was itself information. "What a coincidence, Duke Vestyr," Evangeline said, her voice steady. Not provocative, not flattering—merely confirmatory. "Indeed," Adrian replied. A brief response. He too was measuring this situation in an instant. The clerk bowed to both of them. "The chairman is currently in an audience with another guest. Would you be willing to wait in the reception room on the second floor?" ＊ The reception room on the second floor was a stone chamber with latticed windows. The furnishings were simple but of good quality. Two long benches faced each other along the stone walls, with a low table between them. Just beyond the latticed windows, the roofs of the Red Anchor Market stretched out, a landscape where the eaves of stone shops mingled with the canvas of temporary stalls. The calls of street vendors filtered through the stone walls in muffled tones. "Three apples for seven copper coins!" one voice called, followed by a woman's haggling. The imperial capital's winter morning moved on beyond the window. Evangeline settled onto the bench by the window. Adrian took the seat opposite. The low table between them held nothing. Its empty surface visually marked the distance between them. Silence came first. It was the kind of silence where both parties were weighing their words. "Blackthorn House has come to the Scale Merchant Guild because—" Adrian began, his tone direct but not conclusive. He phrased it as both question and statement, watching for her reaction. "The empire's distribution records are a treasure trove of information," Evangeline answered. She was telling the truth. Only not all of it. Adrian nodded slightly. "I share that view." A gust of wind from beyond the latticed window made the canvas of a stall flap. It was followed by an angry shout: "Wait just a minute, sir!" The market's minor scuffle had begun. Both voices soon dissolved into the general clamor. Evangeline observed Adrian. His bearing was composed but not cold. From her fragmented memories of the previous life, she understood him to be suspicious—yet the Adrian before her now conveyed something more intricate than simple wariness. There was a light of intelligence in his silver eyes, the kind that reads beneath the surface of things. (He has already sensed the empire's corruption.) The certainty formed quietly within her. Adrian Vestyr, despite being the empire's foremost duke, was turning his gaze toward the empire's distortions. It revealed where his motivations lay. "I found it somewhat unexpected that Duke Vestyr would come to the Scale Merchant Guild," Evangeline said. "Unexpected in what way?" Adrian asked. "With the Vestyr family's information network, you should be able to extract the Scale Merchant Guild's records directly. There would be no need for you to come in person," Evangeline said. Adrian's mouth moved slightly—a change that could have been a smile or a wry smile, subtle either way. "What if I were searching for records that cannot be extracted through official channels?" Adrian asked. Evangeline did not answer immediately. After a pause, she said, "That is the same for me." Silence. This time it was heavier than before. The door was knocked, then opened. A young female secretary entered carrying a stack of documents. At the Scale Merchant Guild, the chairman's schedule management and visitor reception were handled by dedicated secretaries, most of whom were experienced women. This one was round-faced, petite, with the unmistakable air of clerical work. "The chairman will need a bit more time, it seems—" she began. Before she could finish, a voice called from the corridor. "Marina! Come here!" "—Forgive me," the secretary said, and left at the same pace she had entered. The door closed. An awkward silence lasted several seconds. Adrian spoke first. "…They seem quite busy." "The Scale Merchant Guild is the linchpin of the imperial economy," Evangeline replied. "Indeed," Adrian said. Then silence again. Their conversation broke off in an odd interval that was almost like quiet laughter. Beyond the window, the market's clamor continued, someone shouting, "What's that lying there!?" The peaceful morning of the imperial capital proceeded beyond the stone walls. Evangeline recognized the absurdity contained in this situation. The empire's foremost duke and the head of a fallen noble house, measuring each other's depths while their conversation was interrupted twice by a secretary—it was absurd, if one thought about it. (This man sees my movements as too intricate for simple revenge.) She could confirm it. The angle of Adrian's gaze told her so. "At least," Adrian said, "I believe we are facing the same direction right now. Even if our purposes are not entirely identical." "If we share information within certain limits—" Evangeline began. "That would be sufficient," Adrian finished. It was a dry, formal agreement. Not friendship, not alliance—merely a confirmation that their interests momentarily aligned in the same direction. But for Evangeline, that was enough for now. ＊ The door was knocked again. The same secretary appeared once more, documents in hand. "I am terribly sorry, the chairman will need a bit more time—that matter over there—" "I understand," Evangeline said curtly. The secretary bowed and this time closed the door firmly. This silence lasted several seconds longer than the previous one. "…The Scale Merchant Guild's secretary seems to be quite occupied," Adrian said. "This is the second time," Evangeline replied. "I had noticed," Adrian said. This time, something close to laughter was born between them. Not voiced. Simply the air in the room changed to a different kind. ＊ Chairman Lucette Montclair—the highest-ranking position in the Scale Merchant Guild, responsible for organizational decision-making, currently held by a large man of fifty-two—was the sort of person who used carefully measured words during audiences. In the chairman's executive office on the third floor, separate from the reception room, Lucette listened to the purpose of both visitors' calls, then remained silent for a moment before speaking in a cautious tone. "Three years ago in autumn, there was one record of transport processed outside regular channels. The personnel responsible at that time have already left the organization, so confirming the details—" "The record alone is sufficient," Evangeline said. Lucette opened a desk drawer and extracted a copy from a thick bundle of documents. The date was Imperial Year 596, October. The item column read: "Decorative item, one piece (detailed contents not recorded)." The sender was listed as "Merchant from Thorn Plain region (details unknown)." The recipient column was blank. (Thorn Plain—the Blackthorn family's domain.) Evangeline's eyes quickly traced the date and item on the record, then she quietly returned the paper to