Good show, the storm is coming

It was a staff member from the guesthouse.

Syldra gestured for Rosetta to open the door. The maid did so—and there stood the cheerful front-desk attendant from the previous day, the one who had discreetly escorted them away after the incident with Samael.

“Lady Lentiya,” the woman bowed with her usual warm smile, “the Duke of Wylding sends word: today’s main banquet will be held promptly at 2 PM in the First Banquet Hall on the fifth floor. Please ensure both representatives of House Lentiya are aware.”

“Understood. Thank you for your effort,” Syldra replied casually. The attendant bowed once more and departed.

Nothing seemed unusual about her.

…… Am I just being paranoid?

“Rosetta, I need to change.”
“Oh! Right away!”
“—I meant close your eyes, you dolt!”

Flustered, Syldra scolded Rosetta into turning around as she carefully began undressing.

…… Seriously, still this awkward about changing clothes at a time like this?

She lightly slapped her own cheeks.

Stay calm. Don’t let the Duke of Wylding see through you.

Time to perform.

“Ah, young lady of House Lentiya!”

As mistress and maid emerged from their room, freshly dressed, it was lunchtime. They met the Duke of Stante and his daughter ascending from below, passing by the fourth floor.

“Good afternoon, Duke Stante,” Syldra and Rosetta greeted with polite curtsies. The Duke tipped his hat with a hearty chuckle in return.

“Good afternoon, Sister Syldra,” little Berumonde whispered shyly, peeking from behind her father before offering a small curtsy of her own.

Syldra held a generally favorable impression of this pair. Beyond Berumonde’s undeniable cuteness, Duke Stante was objectively kind and easy to talk to—a rare noble who didn’t radiate cold authority.

Following etiquette, they exchanged a few pleasantries in the corridor.

Yet during the conversation, Syldra noticed something: the Duke claimed he, too, had felt unusually fatigued last night and gone to bed early.

Berumonde, however, had been her usual self—energetically drawing and writing in her room late into the evening.

“…… Berumonde, dear,” Syldra began cautiously, “did anything happen last night—?”

However—

“—Oh? What troubles my dear little niece?” Duke Stante interrupted with an overly bright smile.

“Huh? Hm?” Berumonde blinked in confusion, then glanced up at her father.

…. Can’t say it.

“—No, Uncle Stante,” Syldra paused, then smoothly resumed, as if nothing had happened. “Just curious.”

Aside from herself, no Aetelarma noble within “The Lion’s Invitation” could be trusted now.

There was a Neuin proverb: “To catch a bird, don’t destroy its nest.”

If a bird returns to find its nest ruined, it senses impending doom and flees—building a new home elsewhere.

To defeat House Wylding, she must not alarm the other Aetelarma nobles who served as their allies and foundation.

…… Among all Syldra’s considerations, one scenario—though highly unlikely—had surfaced from her late-night thoughts: a new theory about why Samael hadn’t attended the private gathering.

At a banquet where allies gathered—on the eve of announcing an alliance with Camille—why was the representative of the other party absent?

Syldra had assumed Wylding simply didn’t care whether allies knew. That the engagement was merely a pretext—a stage prop to unveil his true scheme.

But last night, she considered another possibility.

What if they already knew?

…… Had the Duke secretly informed only those allies who needed to know? Was there no need to “officially” announce it at that dinner?

Upon reconsideration, Syldra found this second scenario more likely.

In the worst-case interpretation, every Aetelarma duke—including her own father—had already been briefed by the Duke of Wylding.

That would mean she and Samael alone stood opposed to the entire assembly of political elites within “The Lion’s Invitation.”

…… Therefore, she must remain vigilant—especially toward these Aetelarma representatives.

This was the mental preparation Syldra had made the night before. So now, her instincts flared.

Avoiding eye contact with father and daughter, her mind raced.

If Duke Stante was indeed one of Wylding’s allies, supportive of the plan, discovering someone interfering might prompt him to report her to the Duke of Wylding.

Even with only hours until the banquet, if Stante exposed her—if Wylding grew cautious—then a simple excuse ,“Someone needs to speak with the Lentiya representative” could sideline her.

And then, she’d have no influence over the event.

She couldn’t allow that.

She must not appear suspicious.

Syldra’s mind shifted gears.

“Actually, I didn’t sleep well last night, Uncle Stante,” she said, rubbing her temples with a natural frown. “Kept hearing noises in the hotel… kept waking up half-conscious.”

“Sister Syldra!” Berumonde suddenly perked up, as if excited. “I didn’t rest well either…”

“There were people walking downstairs all night! I don’t know who kept moving around the halls—and loud voices talking!”

Got it!

Wylding had done something in secret!

With a simple test, Syldra had drawn out the child’s innocent honesty—and received the answer she wanted.

“Hmm? Really, Beru?” Duke Stante looked down at his daughter, genuinely surprised.

“Yes, Father!” Berumonde nodded firmly.

—Hm? Why does Duke Stante seem so startled?

Syldra narrowed her eyes slightly.

Are you acting for my benefit? Or truly unaware?

…… Either way—better safe than sorry. Stay guarded.

“So it seems Berumonde and I had the same experience,” Syldra said gently, stroking the girl’s head. “You make sure to rest well today, Berumonde.”

“…… You too, Sister Syldra!”

Seeming more at ease after their interactions, little Berumonde smiled brightly.

After a few more casual words, the two pairs parted ways. Syldra and Rosetta descended to the first floor and signed in at the front desk.

“Miss, shall we go directly to the banquet hall?” Rosetta asked after signing.

“……” Syldra’s gaze lingered on the registry—just above her name, Samael’s sharp, elegant signature stood clearly marked.

This is something only I can do.
This is something I must do.

I will stop this false alliance—
and prevent that despair from ever coming to pass.

Samael.

Syldra’s expression darkened.

Demon King Samael.
Healing Hero me.
Let us meet—at the banquet.