The Most Perfect Stranger

"Get home safe."

She clasped the hand Hassar offered in farewell and held it tight.

"Let's meet again soon."

"Soon?"

A hollow laugh burst out of her. She'd been smiling brightly at him, face to face, when he suddenly pulled her into a fierce embrace.

"You know perfectly well that's never going to happen."

"Pray for it earnestly enough, and it just might."

Siena felt Hassar's hand patting her back, and she closed her eyes deeply once before opening them again.

Behind him, the ranks of soldiers standing at attention came into view. Every one of them wore a stony expression, their eyes fixed solely on Hassar's back.

As if the moment any one of them strayed even slightly from this spot, a blade would come out.

"I should go. Take care of yourself."

"Yes. Write to me. I'll answer right away."

As she hugged him tight one more time, a flicker of hesitation crossed Siena's eyes.

"Oppa."

Releasing him from the embrace, she carefully met his gaze.

"Is there… anything you want to tell me?"

"Something to tell you?"

He asked it back with an untroubled face.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to ask him, even after he returned from the meeting.

She hadn't even managed to open that file. What had it been? Should she have looked inside?

Was it something her brother had been investigating separately about Marcel? Or was he collaborating with him on something?

Collaborating on what, exactly, with Claude? It was a relationship she couldn't begin to understand — and yet, somehow, she found herself thinking that the intimacy between the two of them was a clue in itself.

Even while claiming it had been so long, the familiar gestures they traded — the small signals, the glances — had gnawed at her the entire time.

Hadn't Hassar, too, treated him like a man who didn't exist ever since the day Claude had passed her over at her debutante?

And more decisively still — the hotel.

Three years ago, why had Claude Marcel bought the hotel in Gaverum, where her brother had been in exile?

By her own digging, the hotel he'd acquired back then had undergone no significant changes — beyond some minor renovations and a complete turnover of the staff.

Revenue hadn't spiked exponentially. No figures from the imperial court had ever stayed there for espionage or diplomatic work.

"There is."

At that answer, a chill sank through her chest. And then, immediately, both her cheeks were seized in Hassar's hands.

Draw close to him before she knew it, Siena could only stare up at him, dazed.

"I love you very much, Cici."

Her brother said it with a radiant smile.

"I'm always on your side. Never forget that. You are my only family."

Siena's lips, which had trembled along with his words, pressed firmly together and she pushed up the corners of her mouth into a smile.

Regrettably, it was the most sincere expression she'd worn in ages.

By the time the train began pulling out of Gaverum station, Siena was already wearing a different face.

The face that had waved and beamed until the very last moment had frozen over, cold and hard.

She took one long look through the window — the cityscape receding into the distance, and far off, the glittering shimmer of light on the water.

Forget it.

She had to forget it first. Only then could she deal with what lay directly ahead.

Knock, knock.

"Lady Siena, may we come in?"

"Come in."

The door opened at once, and her chief secretary Hannah entered with a file of documents in her arms. As the rest of her aides filed in behind her, the spacious passenger car seemed to shrink in an instant.

Siena studied their familiar faces, then leaned back against the sofa and spoke with playful ease.

"Everyone's looking well rested? Did you all enjoy your break?"

"I even managed a lie-in, my lady. Quite a rare experience indeed."

Siena let out a short laugh at Hannah's breezy retort. A lie-in, indeed — she'd heard the woman had capped off the final day of her vacation with overtime instead.

Hardly surprising, when the first week hadn't even ended before the military provocation and the threats came. It must have been pure crisis mode. Word was that the censorship had been so heavy her people couldn't even get into Gaverum, and had spent the whole time pacing anxiously outside the walls.

"I'm sorry to have worried you. I really did come here to rest, but nothing went the way I planned."

"I'm only glad you're unharmed, my lady."

"Mm."

As if the pleasantries were finished, Siena lifted her back from the rest and straightened her spine.

"Now. Report."

Her voice dropped a register and rang out, dry and clipped. At her command, Hannah turned to the first page.

"I'll begin with the Sea Route Project. Maintenance is proceeding on schedule, and we expect the first voyage to be possible within the next quarter. However—"

"However?"

"Parliament has petitioned to move up the date of your attendance, my lady. It appears they mean to rush the vote on the sea route usage rights."

Siena held her silence for a moment.

"So they want to cut our time short. Keep us from gathering more investors before the Grand Festival. Leave the schedule as it is. In the meantime, I want a full count of the opposition votes."

"Yes, my lady."

"And the countess's household?"

She had given her aides advance instructions before the confidential letter was sent to the Imperial Capital.

Track her mother's movements within the fief down to the minute, and identify everyone she'd contacted and every place she'd visited within the past week.

Giel, another of her aides, stepped forward.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. The number of people making contact has decreased from before, which made identification straightforward. I've marked the sections that require your personal review."

Taking the report, Siena quietly ran her eyes over the lines. They were all familiar names.

However much the woman might now be confined to the fief, she had once been an imperial princess who held the Aldo Empire in the palm of her hand.

Standing in for their grandmother, who had passed early, she had served at their grandfather's side as the Empire's mistress even before coming of age.

So that was why people still haunted by the ghost of the past kept seeking her mother out, again and again.

"Keep tracking them, Giel. Not a single one can slip away."

"It will be kept in mind."

"Have the rest organized and resubmitted before we arrive. Hannah, keep the schedule tight."

"Yes, my lady."

It felt like the stopped hands of a clock clicking back into place.

Feeling the anxiety that had been brushing at her feet finally die down, Siena allowed herself a faint smile.

Really — she couldn't afford to let petty questions drain her strength.

Siena dimmed the lighting and craned her neck.

"Ah, this is exhausting."

Trying to work properly for the first time in ages, her whole body ached with stiffness, and she let out a groan. The time was 1:21 in the morning.

The hour when everyone would be asleep. She'd sent the aides off early at nine, and the guards who had been coming and going until around midnight had finally been relieved. Silence reigned on all sides.

"Maybe I'll have some milk."

A warm cup of milk would surely help her sleep.

With that thought, Siena rose slowly from her seat. Passing beneath the low-swinging lamps of the corridor ceiling, she made her way to the dining car.

Toward the crew member still keeping watch at this late hour, Siena gave a small nod and spoke.

"Could you warm up a glass of milk for me?"

"Of course, my lady."

Seated by the window, Siena pressed firmly at her temples and squeezed her eyes shut.

She was worn through. In truth, she'd barely slept since the Chante Kingdom's provocation.

Even while awake, her consciousness had kept flickering out and back like a dying lamp, without her noticing.

She knew returning to the Imperial Capital in this state to meet the Emperor would be dangerous, but there was nothing else to be done.

Recovering as much as she could on the train was the only option.

She was just stretching out her slumped posture with a low groan when—

"The drink you requested."

A low, familiar voice burrowed into her ear. Siena's hands, which had been kneading at her forehead, temples, and brow, dropped limply to her lap.

Her face was full of the irritation and exhaustion she'd been desperately trying to hide.

"…At this point, I'm starting to think my uncle ordered you to keep tabs on me. Am I wrong?"

"It seems you don't properly understand the work of the Inspection Bureau. Had I received such orders, I wouldn't have given you even a moment to suspect it."

It was insufferably annoying, the way that upright bastard answered in all seriousness.

"And why are you the one carrying it over?"

"I happened to be passing by, so I took care of it."

"What are you doing awake at this hour?"

"That hardly seems a question for someone who is out and about at this hour herself."

God, I'm tired.

It felt like a fever was coming on, and Siena clutched her head and groaned.

She was groping blindly for the cup, reaching out her hand — when a warm heat brushed against the back of it.

The cup arrived in her palm, the endpoint of a purely functional act, carrying not a trace of personal feeling.

"Hold it properly. It's hot."

The murmured voice was, absurdly, nothing but business.