Evidence of Ownership

Regita swallowed hard and forced out a saccharine smile.

"Brother... it's not... that is..."

"This isn't exactly the sight I was hoping for—a mutant slave swaggering about like he owns the place."

It was Sota who had first revealed to Regita that Eusilif was a mutant quarter-elf.

He had made it clear he wanted the man thrown straight into the Labyrinth and used as a human shield, but Regita had balked—handing over such a rare and useful slave to him right away felt like a waste. Eusilif was, after all, the prettiest and most fascinating toy she'd acquired in ages.

So she'd planned to stage a suitably dramatic little event, savor the title of mutant slave's mistress to her heart's content, and then hand him over. But her carefully laid plans had collapsed into ruin. Worse still—the real disaster was that she'd managed to wreck Sota's plans at the very same time.

Regita knew better than anyone how terrifying her brother could become once his temper snapped, no matter how indifferent he usually seemed. The color drained from her face in an instant.

"B-Brother, please, just hear me out—"

"Regita. It seems you lack the caliber to handle that slave properly. I'll be sending someone shortly. Send the man to my palace. I intend to bring him along with the Closed Labyrinth survey team departing tomorrow."

Having delivered his verdict, Sota shoved back his chair and stormed off without waiting for a reply.

"Brother!"

Regita cried after him in desperation, then felt the stares of the crowd converging on her and struggled to compose her expression.

Damn it... how did everything go so wrong! Did those watchers botch the job? Eusilif, you wretch—just try going back to the imperial palace today. I'll grind you into powder, piece by piece!

Regita was hurrying out of the imperial family's reserved seats, desperately clinging to an elegant smile, when someone planted themselves squarely in her path.

"One moment, if you please, Your Highness. There is something I must say to you."

She scrunched up her brow and glared at the interloper—and then flinched.

"...?! Arabella?"

"Did you enjoy the matches, Your Highness the Princess?"

Face-to-face with Arabella's ghostly appearance, Regita instinctively took a step back.

The swollen face, the blotchy skin, the rumpled clothing... even a beggar in the gutter would have looked better.

Come to think of it, wasn't it her who leapt out of nowhere mid-match to cheer for Eusilif? Don't tell me collapsing like that actually scrambled her brains for good?

Regita wore her disgust openly. To a woman who had spent her entire life gazing at nothing but beautiful things, Arabella's current state was poison to the eyes.

"Move aside. You're offending my senses."

"Of course, Your Highness—but first, kindly spare me a moment of your time. I have something to report to you."

"What is it? My brother is waiting, so make it quick."

Regita drew herself up with a haughty expression as she spoke.

She'll step aside now, of course. Arabella Miona is a convenient, docile little pushover the moment Crown Prince Sota's name leaves anyone's lips.

But contrary to expectation, Arabella didn't so much as change color. She simply stared Regita dead in the eye and spouted something utterly absurd.

"It's a very simple matter, so don't worry, Your Highness. I have merely come to request that you stop occupying my property and return it to me."

"What? You want me to return something of yours? Are you saying I stole from you?"

Regita was flabbergasted, her eyes narrowing into vicious slits, but Arabella simply flashed a shameless smile and inclined her head gracefully.

"Surely not, Your Highness. I only wish to have back my slave, Eusilif—the one I so kindly lent to you all this time."

"...What? Have you lost your mind?"

The shriek escaped Regita before she could stop it.

"Your slave? Why would Eusilif be your slave? You gave him to me, Arabella—you offered him up yourself! What nonsense about lending!"

Sensing the stares gathering around them, she just barely managed to lower her voice—but hiding the fury knotted between her brows was another matter entirely.

Ugh, I can feel wrinkles forming. What on earth is wrong with Arabella? Why is she suddenly spouting lunacy?

It was an open secret among the nobility that Arabella Miona had eyes only for the crown princess consort's seat, ambition blazing in her veins.

So why was a girl as fragile as a cheap porcelain doll, one who had always groveled before Regita without a shred of pride in her boundless ambition, now meeting her gaze with such insolent defiance?

Regita ached to bury her in a torrent of abuse and mockery until the tears and snot came streaming—but far too many eyes were watching.

As if today's luck weren't rotten enough, every pompous nobody in the empire has to come crawling out of the woodwork.

Oblivious to the epic struggle behind Regita's carefully managed expression, Arabella kept right on talking without a shred of tact.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Your Highness. Eusilif was merely a slave I placed in your care on a temporary loan—a few days' amusement, nothing more."

"What did you say? Temporary?"

Regita's temper boiled over. It was true that swapping male slaves around had lately become fashionable among the noble young ladies—but who in the world demanded back something they had given?

In her entire life, Regita had never once parted with anything that came into her hands. If she discarded something, it was because she'd grown bored of it—never because it was asked back.

...Don't tell me this is Arabella's idea of revenge for embarrassing her at the selection earlier? Or did knocking herself out addle her for good? Because otherwise, why the sudden madness?

Whatever had happened to her pushover Arabella, Regita didn't have so much as a hair's breadth of intention to hand Eusilif back.

Eusilif was a superb toy worth far more than any mere gladiator slave. The handsome face, the popular adoration, the outstanding swordsmanship, and even that uncanny ability. They said even a pumpkin rolling in on its vine could turn out to be gold—was she supposed to just hand a golden pumpkin back because the giver had lost her mind?

Besides, if she returned to the palace empty-handed after letting Arabella snatch Eusilif away, Sota would never let her hear the end of it.

"Listen here, Arabella! On what possible grounds do you claim Eusilif belongs to you? He is, beyond any doubt, my slave!"

Knowing Arabella wouldn't back down easily, Regita changed tactics and raised her voice altogether—loud enough for everyone around to catch every word of their exchange.

And sure enough, the nobles who had been dying of curiosity perked up their ears and began to murmur.

"Good heavens. Is Lady Miona really coveting Her Highness's gladiator?"

"I knew something was off with her from the moment she showed up looking like that. She must have lost her mind completely."

"She must have taken a liking to him after he won the match just now. Well, at least the girl has taste..."

As always, the crowd lined up behind Regita. Only then did she recover her composure, smiling sweetly as she snapped her fan open with a flourish.

"Eusilif has been my slave for a very long time. Everyone present has seen him residing in the imperial palace, attending to my every need."

"......"

"To dare press such absurd claims against me—if my brother or Their Majesties the Emperor and Empress heard of this, there would be hell to pay. But it does seem to be some aftereffect of the accident earlier, so I'll let it slide. Just this once. Now move aside already and—"

Rustle.

But Arabella made no pretense of listening. Instead she rummaged through her bodice, produced something, and unfurled it with a crisp snap before Regita's eyes. The very documents she had sent her maid Becky home to fetch.

"Here you are. Evidence."

"...What? Evidence?"

"The payment receipts and the bill of sale from when I purchased Eusilif at the slave market."

"......"

"Surely this suffices as proof that Eusilif is my property?"

Smirking, Arabella stretched her arms out left and right, obligingly letting the nobles crowding around get a good look at the documents.

"And if Your Highness also wishes to claim ownership of Eusilif, then by all means—present lawful evidence of your own, as I have. Then you need only bring that evidence before His Majesty the Emperor and petition him to determine the truth of the matter."

"What? His Majesty the Emperor?"

Regita let out a hollow, incredulous laugh—while inwardly, her nerves pulled taut as a bowstring.

If word got out that she'd quarreled with a noble lady—once a crown princess consort candidate—over a handsome gladiator slave, His Majesty, so obsessed with imperial dignity, would erupt like a volcano.

Worse, marriage proposals had lately been arriving from the princes of neighboring kingdoms. If rumors spread that the princess's hobby was being waited upon by beautiful male slaves, she would be the one in an impossible position.

But still... what kind of law is this? Who gives something and then snatches it back? He was clearly a gift meant for me to keep! She offered him up to me of her own free will, the little witch!

Regita glared at Arabella with eyes smoldering like coals. But Arabella met her gaze with perfect serenity and kept talking.

"So what will it be, Your Highness? Shall we go into the imperial palace right now and request an audience with His Majesty?"

With each repetition of the words His Majesty the Emperor, the murmuring around them swelled louder. Newspaper reporters could be seen glinting like hyenas, scribbling furiously into their notebooks.

In the end, Regita could only grit her teeth and force out the words.

"Fine... do as you please. One measly slave? My palace is overflowing with them."

Arabella's face brightened at once, her smile blooming wide.

"Do you mean it? I truly wouldn't have minded stopping by the imperial palace at all, but if you insist, Your Highness, I shall return home with Eusilif at once."

Arabella bent her knee in a graceful bow and turned to leave. Regita, returning the courtesy with the shallowest dip of her head, ground her teeth and muttered under her breath.

"Hey. You're really not going to regret this? Take that boy with you now, and Sota's going to be furious."

Swish.

Arabella lifted her head and met Regita's gaze dead-on.

"Regret, Your Highness? If that happened, I should be grateful beyond measure."

Smile. The swollen lids narrowed to slits, and the blue-indigo eyes gleaming through them gave off a strange, unsettling light. Regita stumbled back a step before she knew what she was doing.