Simultaneously, a frail adventurer donning a beret andered near the bookshelf, engrossed in two stacks of docunts he held.
"..."
Milo knew their identities; he had long since familiarized himself with their likenesses.
In the brief silence, the young man's slightly stiff face suddenly blossod into a vibrant smile.
"Why, if it isn't Lord Faust!" he exclaid, feigning delighted surprise as if he had known the dark-haired youth lounging in his chair for over a decade.
Milo strode forward, his deanor humble and respectful. "I never imagined you'd grace us with your presence. My deepest apologies for not preparing a proper welco."
However, 'Faust' remained unresponsive, setting aside the book and looking up at the slender adventurer.
"Margarete, have you found your answer?" he inquired.
"Indeed," Margarete nodded gently. "I now understand why Miss Nerilia wishes you to spare Mr. Milo."
"... Wait!" Milo interjected loudly. "Isn't there so misunderstand—"
Faust frowned slightly, tapping the desk with his forefinger. An invisible force surged forth, instantly shredding Milo's vocal cords.
"Continue," he said, turning back to Margarete.
"Mr. Milo Leo, through his brother Bryce Palr Leo, has connections with nurous Adventure's Guilds and powerful adventurers throughout the Western Lands. Using him as a stepping stone, one could construct a comprehensive intelligence network... No, Shadewell must have already done so. More accurately, he's a crucial piece in Shadewell's network across the Western Lands."
"Thus… Miss Nerilia hopes you'll spare Milo's life."
Nerilia's ssage had arrived almost imdiately after Marlina had requested information on Milo from Yvaine.
Though Nerilia herself was absent, presumably on a mission, she had conveyed her ssage through a black feather. Ansel had relayed this information to Marlina, presenting her with a small challenge: to discern Nerilia's reasons for defying Ansel's wishes within a set tifra.
Ignoring the writhing Milo on the floor, Ansel continued questioning Marlina: "Do you believe her reasoning is sound?"
"... You never act without purpose, Mr. Faust," Marlina replied softly.
"While I may not comprehend your deeper motives, I see no reason to question them. Miss Nerilia's presumption that she knows better than you is both presumptuous and arrogant."
Ansel couldn't help but chuckle, "Are you gossiping about her behind her back?"
"No," Marlina shook her head. "I'll point it out directly the next ti we et."
The young Hydral gazed at her for a long mont before suddenly asking:
"Then, what if I had no deeper motive?"
Marlina was taken aback.
"...What?"
"My aning should be clear," Ansel raised an eyebrow slightly. "No deeper motive. My visit to the Executioners' Guild was on a whim, and I accepted this commission rely because it seed interesting. If that were my thinking, would you still support ?"
In this office, soone's life or death had beco the least significant matter. The ordinary young woman unconsciously tightened her grip on the docunts she held.
She had much she wanted to say.
She wanted to express that she too didn't wish for Ansel to simply kill Milo, not just because of his involvent in the Western Lands' intelligence network, but more importantly, due to his crucial position in Dispute Fortress... Finding another person adept at administration among a group of adventurers skilled only in combat would be no easy task.
If Milo died, Dispute Fortress would plunge into chaos. Adventurers might simply leave, but what about the common folk in the city?
Marlina didn't want them to suffer such undeserved calamity, so deep down... she didn't want Ansel to casually kill Milo.
But she could find ample reasons to justify it to herself—Ansel always had his own considerations; he wouldn't do sothing out of pure whim.
I could never match Mr. Ansel's perspective. Mr. Ansel is always right, so I should just support him.
This was Marlina's thought process.
But now, Ansel was asking what she would do if he truly wanted to kill Milo on a re whim.
She should... stop him.
Marlina whispered this in her heart, but no matter what, she couldn't bring herself to voice it.
"If that is what you desire..." she found herself saying almost instinctively, "then you should do as you please."
Ansel tilted his head slightly, "Even if it's not right?"
Right…
Marlina involuntarily recalled her recent musings—was Faust rely an illusion that never existed, a disguise to deceive the world, or Ansel's heartfelt vision?
Mr. Ansel had always done the right thing, but did he truly always want to do the right thing?
As these thoughts crossed her mind, Marlina also considered Ansel's recent changes, a transformation she couldn't quite articulate but knew existed—changes brought about by Miss Ravenna.
Changes that seed to guide Mr. Ansel from a path of pursuing righteousness to one more... humane.
She smiled gently and responded, "Your contentnt is more important than being right."
Mr. Faust never needed to consider such matters of propriety, and neither should Mr. Ansel.
Indeed, Mr. Ansel should be like Lord Faust. Why should he bear the shackles of righteousness?
With this thought, Marlina seed to find another reason to deny herself and obey Ansel.
"...My contentnt," Ansel seed surprised by Marlina's response, pausing briefly before smiling again.
"That's reasonable... very reasonable."
The young Hydral's smile grew brighter, even breaking into a hearty laugh.
"Margarete, regarding borrowing Mr. Milo's head, it's not out of 'interest' actually."
Ansel, now visibly more relaxed, said nonchalantly, "I simply want to kill him because he disgusts ."
"...Is that so?" Marlina was slightly surprised but respectfully replied, "Then you have more than ample reason."
Yet, unspoken confusion lingered in her heart.
This... doesn't sound like sothing Mr. Ansel would say.
"Nerilia wouldn't share your view. She'd say I wasn't like this before."
Before... the previous Mr. Ansel...
This confusion aligned with Marlina's inner doubts. She felt she had grasped sothing, yet couldn't see it clearly.
Ansel chuckled, "Nevermind her. We only have an hour. We should take Mr. Milo's head back to complete the task."
He raised his hand, crossing his index finger and thumb. Milo's head promptly detached from his neck.
The cut was clean and smooth, not a drop of blood spilled, possessing a certain... artistic quality.
"Let's go, Margarete," Ansel said lightly after securing Milo's head.
"We'll complete the commission and still have ti for a drink."
"... Mr. Faust, could you wait a mont?" Margarete's voice was soft.
"Hmm?"
Holding two stacks of docunts, Margarete spoke quietly, "There's sothing I'd like to do, with your permission."
Ansel looked at her with interest. "Go on."
"I had a concern beyond Miss Nerilia's. Mr. Milo was likely the only one capable of managing Dispute Fortress. His death will surely plunge it into chaos."
"Dispute Fortress cannot function without Milo."
Ansel shrugged. "It's a bit late to ntion this now."
His expression suggested he had already considered this but didn't seem particularly concerned. Based on Marlina's understanding of Ansel, he likely had soone prepared to take over Dispute Fortress covertly.
But... there was no need to wait.
The young woman turned her gaze to the trembling man, his trousers wet, likely holding a position similar to her own. She suddenly displayed a charming, beautiful smile:
"I believe you share this opinion, don't you, sir?"
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