A Maid of Clockwork and Gunpowder

Somewhat solemn mood had settled over the dining room, and Nina's mouth pulled down at the corners in a quiet little pout.

"Oh dear, oh my……. You must have been awfully tired yesterday, I suppose."

A relative she hadn't even known existed had appeared out of nowhere, suddenly set to inherit every last piece of this family's estate—no wonder Exi's heart was in turmoil.

Feeling as though Exi's distress was somehow her own fault, Nina's expression grew bittersweet.

She had wanted to sit down with the family and talk things over regarding Grandmother's inheritance, but the truth was she herself had no idea how much it amounted to.

The old gentleman who called himself Rikita Bones's notary had brought over a portion of the will to the count's residence in Ilite, but the full contents, he'd said, had yet to be verified.

Since Grandmother came from the Kingdom of Dochen, which no longer exists, the procedures are complicated, he said.

Certification, wills, estates—Nina understood none of it, but she did understand how greedy it would be to claim everything for herself, her family's share included.

Why would she leave me the entire inheritance? The moment I receive the whole will, I'm definitely going to talk it over with the family.

Nina was chewing thoughtfully on a paper-thin slice of carrot with such thoughts in her head when—

the others seated around the table were every bit as tangled up inside.

She threw the sleeping dart out the window and chose that exact moment to shut the sash. Truly Rikita's granddaughter…….

So thought Katahari.

She hasn't caught on to us completely, it seems. Did her instincts pick up on something off?

So thought Natalisha.

She looked down at us when we were turned away yesterday, and today she goes straight for Exi? Is she rubbing it in?

So thought Chayson, replaying last night's events as he swallowed a groan.

What was it their respective agencies' Masters had told them, again?

How many maids on this continent could subdue a criminal with nothing but a slingshot?

And the thief had been fleeing on horseback, no less.

Hitting a fast-moving target was far harder than it sounded.

Natalisha, genius of sniping, was silently certain of it.

A crack shot.

Katahari, genius of disguise, recalled what she'd learned from the maids' former supervisor while disguised among them.

Every single account was infuriatingly ambiguous—normal yet somehow not.

So she's not someone to underestimate, is that it.

The count's household where Nina had supposedly worked was suspicious in its own right. For an ordinary noble family, there was far too little information available on it.

And with Nina herself such a muddle on top of that, the embers of doubt had caught flame.

Chayson, seated across from Nina and observing how she handled her cutlery, sank into the same puzzle.

Her knife work as she carved the roasted vegetables was polished, assured.

The movements were too swift, too clean for someone who'd supposedly only ever cut vegetables and meat.

The eyes of Chayson—master of explosives, no slouch in bomb disposal himself—could not be deceived.

She was trained to use a blade. Considering she identified the sleeping poison at a glance last night, she must be well-versed in toxins too.

He was quite sure Exi, genius of poisons, would agree.

The strangely weighted meal was nearly at its end when Nina finally asked about what had been nagging at her since yesterday.

"Come to think of it, aren't there any photographs of my mother left in this house?"

At that, Katahari answered lightly, as if she'd been expecting the question.

"Great-Auntie said it broke her heart too much every time she saw a portrait or a photograph of her niece, so she put them all away. Everything from Mother's childhood too."

"Oh……."

Nina, who hadn't thought that far, quietly set down her fork.

At the sight of her so instantly deflated, Chayson pressed the attack.

"But if you look in a mirror, you can see your mother Sein's face too. You've seen Great-Auntie's portrait, haven't you? You and Sein both take after her enormously."

"……I see."

And with that, Nina would never ask about her mother's belongings again.

Natalisha smiled nastily on the inside.

Sein Bones, daughter of Rikita Bones?

That was fake too. They hadn't been able to turn up so much as a trace of Rikita's daughter.

She never once paused her spy work—when on earth did she have a child?

Natalisha had also kept open the possibility that Nina was merely a relative, not a direct descendant of Rikita, but they had obtained a sample of her hair in advance and run it through a magitech analysis: a perfect direct-line match.

Which meant that Nina's mother—Rikita's true daughter—did exist.

Given that we dug through everything and still turned up nothing, she must already be dead.

Anyway, that was one problem solved for today. Natalisha turned the conversation, lips curling upward.

"By the way, Nina. What are your plans for today?"

"I'm going next door for a visit."

Katahari's fork clattered to the table.

"Next door? To that house where the sickly fool— er, the young master lives?"

"Yes! I'm supposed to get back the handkerchief I lent Joel!"

"You're on a first-name basis already? And what's this about a handkerchief? You haven't set foot outside since you got home yesterday."

"We met on the balcony. I met Joel's pet pigeon too. It really must be fate, don't you think?"

At Nina's artlessly innocent answer, the three of them felt their stomachs turn over.

Joel Smiler.

What had he been like through every preliminary meeting and every day of the joint briefing for this intelligence operation?

Indifferent to people, expressionless, inhuman.

A man who wouldn't listen to a word anyone said, yet who came at you like he'd kill you if you so much as dropped one of his magitech tools.

Supposedly he'd only recently come of age, and already he was buried in his devices—a creature more mechanical than a clockwork doll.

Give that maniac clockwork maid from last night a look at Joel, and she was sure to recognize him as a finely crafted machine and spare his life.

And on top of that, a slippery Soltum native.

When did those fox-like Soltum bastards make their move?

The mere thought of Soltum's intelligence agency made Chayson's blood boil.

They were shameless schemers who exploited the fact that Rikita's townhouse sat in Soltum to lord quiet little privileges over the other nations' agencies at every turn.

And now they're sneaking up on Nina Bones first, without even sharing intel? So they intend to hoard Rikita's information all to themselves.

Natalisha's fist was clenched tight beneath the table, fury rising, when—

"Oh, that's right!"

Nina clapped her hands together, recalling something she'd forgotten.

"It occurred to me that my moving in must have made quite a lot more work for the staff."

At those words, Katahari hid her startle behind a gentle smile.

"Does it, now?"

It did not. Naturally—because the servants of this house were, in fact, agency underlings who had never once played the part of domestic staff before.

So she noticed…….

The rest of the housework was supposed to be handled quietly by the agency, but perhaps because Nina herself had been a maid, she seemed to find the small number of staff oddly conspicuous.

I'll have to deploy a few more, even if it's all for show.

Chayson was silently reviewing the shortcomings when Nina rose from her seat and beamed with pride.

"But it'll be all right now! I found something wonderful."

With that she scampered out of the dining room and returned towing something along.

"I found a domestic clockwork doll in Grandmother's storage!"

What Nina had brought in was a mechanical clockwork doll with wheels hidden beneath a maid's dress that brushed the floor.

Chayson and Natalisha, frozen stiff, exchanged glances with eyes that trembled as though an earthquake had struck.

"Good day to you! I am the domestic clockwork doll Juger Number 4. Please leave this house's cleaning, cooking, and laundry to me. And this is my very best friend, Mossberg."

The clockwork doll Juger Number 4 held up a wok whose handle looked peculiarly thick and heavy.

Natalisha swallowed a dry gulp, eyes darting to that handle, and asked:

"Mossberg, did you say? Not a Remington?"

Juger Number 4's face rotated toward Natalisha with a mechanical click.

"Dea. R. Me. You have already met Juger Number 3, our security-model clockwork doll, haven't you? Remington is a splendid friend as well, but I have Mossberg, and Mossberg alone?"

Chayson and Natalisha's shoulders gave a violent shudder.

Deliberately tearing their eyes from the wok, they confirmed it to themselves.

That is without question the Mossberg 5900—a Holich-made shotgun.

That afternoon.

Nina had been about to press the doorbell of the neighboring house when she saw the door swing open on its own, and her rabbit eyes went wide.

Standing in the doorway was her sickly neighbor Joel, his face utterly expressionless.

"You came, Nina."

"Oh—hi, Joel."

Nina felt awkward around him, unable to adjust to Joel's atmosphere, which was as stiff and rigid as Juger Number 4's yet somehow faintly mysterious.

Joel, for his part, studied Nina as if observing a specimen, then promptly lost interest.

It was simply that he could never work up any concern for people.

I joined this agency on the promise that I could bury myself in the magitech development lab. Why am I doing work like this?

Still, the Nina Bones before him was a target of national importance.

In exchange for keeping her under surveillance, the agency had granted him permission to use an entire townhouse as a magitech development workshop—so he fully intended to do the job he'd been given properly.

"Come in, Nina. The wind is chilly."

The day was warm and the breeze pleasantly cool, so Nina was in fine spirits—until she remembered that Joel was frail, and hurried in after him.

By and by they stepped into the foyer, and Nina's eyes went perfectly round.