The Princess Imprint A Traitor - Chapter 32: The Nocturnal Salon (6)

Surrounded by aristocratic malice, Rimona bit her lip hard, standing defenseless in the midst of it all.

Those wretched bastards…

Eve had to summon every ounce of patience to keep herself from storming down to the first floor.

The harassment only escalated.

“Still, she’s got a rather pretty face, doesn’t she? I hear the Seventh Princess has a taste for women. Maybe her sponsorship of Rimona Lund has other motives…?”

Oh, so now they’re dragging up old gossip and trying to spin a scandal between me and Rimona?

Eve felt a chilling sensation rush through her, as if all the blood in her body had turned to ice. The warmth in her amber eyes drained completely. Meanwhile, Rimona trembled uncontrollably under the weight of their insults and humiliation. She was already at her breaking point.

Filthy scum.

She had never wanted to come here in the first place. She had refused invitation after invitation, yet they had practically dragged her here. The nobles of the Night Society had been persistently summoning her for years. No matter how many times she declined, the invitations kept coming through the Pegasus Theater, to the point of obsession.

The people of the capital were well aware of the ongoing political rivalry between the Seventh Princess, Eve, and the Third Princess, Brigette, thanks to gossip papers. Furthermore, as someone who frequently performed at noble salons and tea parties, Rimona had gleaned a fair understanding of the political landscape.

Most of the Night Society’s attendees were nobles aligned with Brigette or her lackeys. There was no way their invitation had been made in good faith. Their intentions were undoubtedly malicious.

I knew this would happen…

The nobles had resorted to dirty tactics. Last night, a back-alley guild had ransacked the Pegasus Theater. Then, as if that weren’t enough, they had kidnapped the theater director’s sickly, frail son to use as leverage. When Rimona had seen the man crying, one eye swollen and bruised from a beating, she had been left with no choice but to comply.

She could endure a bit of humiliation, a bit of pain. Before joining the Pegasus Theater, she had known hunger and abuse all too well. But her resolve had meant nothing—the nobles’ cruelty had already far surpassed her limits.

“The Seventh Princess? Oh, she’d definitely be into that. The imperial family is full of deviants, but she’s in a league of her own.”

“…….”

Hearing Eve’s name sullied in their disgusting voices was unbearable. Despite her trembling, Rimona lifted her head sharply.

“Please don’t insult Her Highness.”

“What?”

“Her Highness is not that kind of person.”

“Ha! Would you listen to this?”

Even though she had spoken with all the strength she could muster, the nobles merely scoffed, as if witnessing something amusing.

“Do you think the Seventh Princess’ protection will extend to you here? Don’t fool yourself.”

“Tsk, tsk. An arrogant gypsy like you needs to be disciplined properly.”

Their eyes gleamed with sinister intent. The situation was turning dangerous. From above, Eve clenched the balcony railing, her grip tightening.

“Your Highness.”

“…Alvin?”

A quiet voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Turning her head, she saw a familiar, sly smile.

“We’ve found everything!”

“Ha.”

A laugh slipped from Eve’s lips, almost like a sigh.

“Alvin.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

“Your timing is impeccable. This is exactly why I favor you.”

“Khh, I am deeply moved!”

While Alvin twisted around nervously, Eve dragged a stool over to the balcony railing and stomped it down with the heel of her boot.

“Well then, I’ll be off.”

Without hesitation, Eve cast a levitation spell and leapt over the second-floor railing.

“Kneel her down!”

The situation below was reaching its climax.

The servants forcibly pushed Rimona onto her knees. Beside her, they moved a chilling white wine bottle and an ice bucket. A middle-aged nobleman scooped up a bucketful of ice water and approached Rimona.

She clenched her teeth, bracing for the biting cold—
but at that moment, Eve stepped between her and the nobleman.

“Is harassing a lady the noble thing to do?”

“And who the hell are you?”

The nobles jeered in annoyance, clearly irritated that their fun had been interrupted.

“Looking to embarrass yourselves?”

“And you think you have the right to butt in?”

Despite the hostile atmosphere, Eve remained unfazed. She decided to give them an answer.

“Who? Don’t you recognize me?”

She elegantly peeled off her silver half-mask.

“I’m Ivienrose Cholelle Hadelamid.”

“The— The 7th Princess?!”

Eve swirled her hand dramatically through the air.
A gust of wind roared against the ceiling, shaking the windows until—

Crash!

The windows on the upper floors shattered all at once.

And as if that were a signal, a group of armed individuals stormed into the mansion:
soldiers clad in wine-red uniforms—the Punitive Knights, led by Mikael himself.

“S-squeeeak!”

The nobles paled as the mansion’s guards were swiftly overpowered, and the homunculi gathered in tight formation around Eve.

Standing at the center of it all, Eve swept her sharp gaze across the banquet hall.

Wielding not only the authority of royalty but also the brute force of a knight order, Eve was now an unstoppable force with two wings. Before her, the nobles bowed their heads in fear.

Eve approached the middle-aged nobleman still awkwardly holding the ice bucket.

“What an amusing little game you were playing.”

“W-we were just—!”

“Why don’t you start by taking off that mask and showing proper respect?”

“S-sorry! Forgive me, Your Highness!”

The noble awkwardly removed his mask and bowed low. It was Viscount Luciol, one of Count Hadenfolk’s closest aides.

“Well, well.”

Eve looked down at him with a predatory glint, as if thinking, ‘Good, I caught just the right one.’

Viscount Luciol, sweating profusely, tried to save himself by raising his voice shamelessly.

“W-while it is an honor to receive Your Highness, you cannot simply storm into a private noble gathering and behave in such a manner! Bringing the knight order entrusted to you by His Majesty for private use—surely this is an abuse of power!”

“And?”

“If you withdraw your knights and leave peacefully, our Count might even choose to overlook this incident—”

Eve cut him off. She’d already indulged him long enough.

“You speak of rules and propriety. How amusing.”

She lowered her upper body until her face was just inches from his.

“Do you think I’m here today as a mere princess?”

“W-what…?”

“Of course not.”

Eve smiled coldly and straightened up. Her voice thundered through the hall.

“By the authority of the Deputy Director of the Second Special Task Force, I hereby order the seizure and arrest of House Hadenfolk for charges including human trafficking, narcotics distribution, forced prostitution, and insult against the royal family. All guests and servants present shall also be detained and investigated for disorderly conduct, prostitution, and drug use.”

“……!”

At the words “Special Task Force,” Viscount Luciol’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
The nobles, previously sluggish from drink and drugs, suddenly sobered up.

“R-run!”

“If we get caught, our whole family’s ruined!”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

With a flick of her silver-lined Arachne, Eve instantly bound the escaping nobles.

Some were lucky enough to reach the corridors or gardens—only to be neatly apprehended by guards waiting outside.

“Oh dear. Please cooperate peacefully with the investigation, my lords.”

“Damn it! Who the hell are you?!”

“We’re the Guard of District 14 of the Imperial Capital. We responded to reports of collusion with the underworld guilds.”

“S-squeak! Even the city guards?!”

Led by Eve’s fencing master, Valencie Fenril, the Capital’s 14th District Guard had the mansion completely surrounded.

With the city guard deployed alongside the knights, any remaining will to resist inside the mansion crumbled.

“A-ah, no….”

Thud.

Viscount Luciol collapsed to the floor, utterly broken. The guards dragged him away, their destination the infamous Debonea Prison. As he was dragged out, Luciol screamed desperately:

“Th-the Count! Count Hadenfolk ordered it all! I was just following orders!”

“Traitorous scum!”

Smack!

Alvin struck the back of Luciol’s head to shut him up and returned to report to Eve.

She listened as she surveyed the lines of nobles being hauled away like cattle.

“We discovered human trafficking victims and large amounts of narcotic aphrodisiacs in the basement levels. Some of the victims were critically injured and have been sent to nearby hospitals.”

“And the ledger?”

“We secured it. Also, here’s the Count himself—we lured him out while searching for the documents and arrested him too.”

“Well done.”

Eve looked down at the Count, who was now kneeling miserably before her, a man who, despite his burly build, quivered pathetically.

“Y-Your Highness, p-please show mercy…!”

“Mercy, my ass.”

Eve deliberately smiled coldly and commanded, loud enough for all to hear:

“Take Count Hadenfolk to the royal dungeon. I will personally interrogate him. Use my preferred tools.”

“Yes, ma’am! Shall we prepare spiked whips, heated irons, and saltwater for the needles?”

“For now, yes. Save the finger guillotines and Iron Maiden for later if needed.”

“Ahem. You know, no matter how vile he is, you mustn’t kill him.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t kill him—I’ll just make him wish he was dead.”

It was all an act, of course.
But Eve and her loyal retainer Alvin were so perfectly in sync that the Count’s spirit shattered.

“Hiiieeeek!”

Thud.

The Count collapsed, wetting himself in terror. Eve and Alvin discreetly stepped three paces back from the spreading puddle.

“He’ll sing like a bird.”

“We need to make her confess not only that the Night Church is part of a human trafficking cartel, but also that Brigitte was involved.”

“Heh heh! Don’t worry, Your Highness.”

Alvin went to where Mikael, who commanded the Punitive Knights, was. Safely escorting dozens of nobles to prison was a large-scale operation. Of course, Alvin’s meticulousness, which prided itself on perfect handling of every matter, shone even in times like these.

“Sir Agnito, please throw Viscount Luciole and his gang, who were dragged away earlier, into the deepest, dampest, and darkest part of Debonea Prison.”