38 The Crown Prince Is Relentless, Despite His Appearance

For a moment, the room was filled with an awkward silence. However, before that atmosphere could stagnate, consciousness was pulled back by a light, rhythmic sound—clap.

“Excuse me, a bug.”

The one who clapped his hands to gather attention was the Crown Prince. Wearing his usual sparkling smile, he continued, “Well, but still.”

“Surrounded by so many grim-faced Imperial Knights and suddenly dragged out into the middle of them, even the most boastful of young ladies would fall into a state of panic. After all, we are still just students of the Academy.”

“……Your Highness.”

At his deliberate light tone, Marquis Schutzeroie’s expression looked as if something were caught in his throat. With a troubled face, he looked at the Crown Prince, then at Grace, Emilia, and me in order, before finally casting a brief glance toward Stefania. He stared at his daughter for several seconds as she trembled, clutching her slapped cheek and weeping silently, then quietly sat back in his chair.

“……I am deeply sorry for the disturbance caused in your presence, by myself and my foolish daughter.”

“I am fine. You can relax as well, Lady Stefania. This isn’t an interrogation; it’s just a hearing to listen to your side of the story. Could someone bring an ice pack for Lady Stefania?”

The thread of tension that had been stretched too thin—because the daughter of the security chief was a suspect—was moderately loosened. Regarding the mastery of the room, one must say: as expected of the Crown Prince.

Of course, calling it a “simple hearing” was merely a consolation. The fact that she was already being restrained was proof enough, but Stefania, having no experience with such situations, was easily soothed and seemed to regain a bit of her composure.

……Still, the accompanist is remarkably quiet.

I know almost nothing of the daily character of this man, said to be the third son of the Holland family, a northern noble in his third year. He looks anxious, but compared to Stefania, he is unnaturally calm. Even though a double of himself caused an assault, that silence is, if anything, eerie.

While I was observing, the Crown Prince resumed the hearing. The preliminary stage of merely sharing information with those gathered was over; the main subject began now.

“What we first find questionable is… how the assailant prepared an outfit identical to that of the young Lord Holland. My lady, how was the costume decided, and at what stage was it shared with the accompanist?”

Costume production is part of the Oracle task. As long as it is being made within the dormitory houses of the Academy, opportunities for information leaks are limited. One might hear the sound from the instrumental rooms, usually built on the basement level, if they passed nearby… but that isn’t the case for clothes. At the very least, lace curtains should be hung over the windows to prevent the fabric from deteriorating, and common sense dictates that a room for needlework wouldn’t typically be set up in a basement where insects enter easily.

To summarize Stefania’s response: she ordered the sewing maids who had been in her service since before to determine the shape and materials of the dress, and then had the accompanist’s costume made to match that dress. She showed the design to the accompanist half a month ago and adjusted it with several temporary fittings to ensure the pattern wouldn’t hinder the performance.

“Wait a moment.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the Crown Prince was the first to interject.

When a member of the royalty says “wait,” everyone present simply waits, so no one raised an objection—but what exactly in that brief touch of a story had caught the Crown Prince’s attention? Even as someone who had actually progressed through costume production myself, I didn’t feel there were any particularly suspicious points…

The Crown Prince remained silent for a while, staring intently at Stefania. He looked as though he were thinking, but his gaze felt more like his consciousness was devoted to observing rather than contemplating. I felt his expression had an atmosphere quite different from his usual one.

…………I feel a sense of déjà vu.

As if he were trying to peer into the very depths of a person’s soul…

“Listen, today is the day of the task presentations. Under normal circumstances, the Oracle candidates would be in the hall right now, chatting and waiting for the second task announcement. So, let’s stop beating around the bush.”

Though his tone was gentle, the Crown Prince spoke with a pressure that brooked no argument. Before the waiting side could tilt their heads wondering what he meant, the Crown Prince offered a sunny smile.

“Could someone have the young Lord Holland stand up? And, Caldia. I wonder if you could stand next to him for a moment.”

“Huh……?”

……Huh? Me?

My mind couldn’t keep up with the sudden nomination, but due to noble habits ingrained over many years, my body moved obediently to instructions from a superior. As I stepped out to stand beside the accompanist who had been made to stand as instructed, the Crown Prince issued a further command: “Try turning so you’re back-to-back for a bit.”

At that point, I understood a little of what the Crown Prince wanted to do. Standing at point-blank range, Stefania’s accompanist was almost exactly my build. The length of his trimmed black hair might even be similar.

“Because of my position as Crown Prince, I hear many daily reports besides the security handled here today, so things become visible to me through knowing them. Lady Stefania, as you confessed yourself earlier, the one you originally intended to wear this costume was Count Caldia, but……”

It seems my unpleasant prediction was the same as the Crown Prince’s, and I felt a crawling sensation of goosebumps. While I found myself wanting to avoid looking at Stefania as much as possible, I also felt a bit of pity for her. What was the point of bringing this to light? Isn’t this Crown Prince about to commit a terrible destruction of her dignity?

“You chose your accompanist as a mannequin for Count Caldia, didn’t you?”

I made an effort not to turn my gaze toward the source of the strange cry—something like a ngyu. I didn’t want to see it.

“And you, Lord Holland, rather offered yourself as Lady Stefania’s accompanist from the beginning with that as a bargaining chip. Am I wrong?”

……Ah, I see. So that’s how the pieces connect.

End of 261