The Princess Imprint A Traitor - Chapter 32: The Nocturnal Salon (8)

“Exactly. Which leaves your activities much more exposed — it seems Father intends to frame your families as the ringleaders.”

“No way! Chansley was way worse than us!”

Feeling wrongly accused, Navarre and Gigolo spilled the beans — confessing to various shady dealings between Brigitte and Chansley.

‘So Brigitte was deeply involved in the human trafficking cartel through Chansley.’

Looking at the pile of documents, Eve smiled. No matter how hard Desmond II tried to cover for Brigitte, it was pointless. She now held the decisive evidence.

‘Sister Betty, it seems it’s truly my fate to bring you down.’

Eve set down her teacup and gauged the thickness of the documents.

“Is this everything we need?”

“Yes. It’s enough to fully support the criminals’ confessions.”

The human trafficking cartel had three major components, and the Potion Guild had been in charge of drug manufacturing. Their operations were based out of a fallen noble’s potion shop, and there was a hidden story behind it.

“Records show it was secretly acquired two years ago. The buyer was Baron Level — but following the money trail confirms it was really Chansley under an alias.”

“Just like how he used an alias to hoard magical stones under Viscount Brun.”

“Exactly — always the same method.”

More importantly, the acquisition process mirrored Brigitte’s past tactics — she had once destroyed a rival construction firm to hand it to Chansley.

“They lured the owners into bankruptcy by dangling promises of royal contracts. Helping Chansley seize the shop for free — it’s sickening how consistent they are.”

“Given the instructions to use an alias from the start, it’s clear they always intended illegal activities. And the evidence is airtight.”

Alchemy involving narcotics was strictly forbidden, and Hadelamid’s royal family had built its history on lawful alchemy. If it became public knowledge that a royal bloodline had engaged in black alchemy and endangered countless lives, the consequences would be dire.

Power, especially supreme power, depends heavily on legitimacy and moral authority. A royal who severely tarnished that could no longer be a valid successor to the throne.

‘Brigitte will fall.’

Permanently, as a contender for the throne.

“Hehehe, it’s a checkmate,” Alvin said, face flushed with excitement. He hesitated, then asked carefully:

“Will you be submitting the evidence to His Majesty right away?”

“What do you think?”

“Ahh, it kills me that only you and I get to see this first, but… I think it would be wiser to wait a little longer.”

“I think so too.”

Unfortunately, Emperor Desmond II currently had no intention of disposing of Brigitte. Hadelamid wasn’t a perfect rule-of-law state; it was an empire ruled by imperial authority. Even justice had to bow to the Emperor’s will. And personally, Eve still had to maintain her image as the dutiful daughter before Desmond II.

“I received the Special Operations Department title by promising to help cover Brigitte’s scandals. It wouldn’t do to suddenly seem like I’m attacking her now.”

“True. If you want to become Crown Princess, you can’t afford to earn His Majesty’s hatred.”

“So, after Father’s heart has completely turned away from Brigitte, we’ll need to reveal everything through someone else’s hands.”

In the art of intrigue, the more one uses others’ hands to act, the more perfect the scheme becomes.

“Hehe, as expected, you are truly wise. I will make the necessary arrangements.”

Alvin nodded vigorously, showing he understood completely. He was indeed a capable retainer.
Eve looked out the window. The late autumn winds had stripped the trees bare, and their thin branches rattled against each other.

“Winter’s almost here. Time flies so quickly.”

“Winter will pass just as swiftly.”

“Yes, it will. There’s much to be done.”

Eve had no intention of simply waiting for Desmond II’s affection for Brigitte to wither away on its own.

‘The right moment isn’t something you wait for. It’s something you create.’

Setting her teacup down, Eve asked Alvin:

“How are the operations I ordered with Belteor and Raymkal progressing?”

“They’re going smoothly.”

“Good. Start getting ready to light the fuse.”

It was time to stir up trouble in Belteor — the family of Brigitte’s fiancé — and strike against Raymkal, her maternal relatives. Inwardly, Eve sent a message to Brigitte:

‘I promise, I will see to it that you exit the stage in disgrace, Sister.’

❇

Three days before the start of the winter rainy season, over a hundred criminals connected to the human trafficking cartel were publicly executed. More than half of them were nobles, making it a sweeping purge.

The condemned were lined up according to their social rank and the severity of their crimes before being marched to the execution grounds. At the very front was Chansley. After a little over a month of imprisonment and interrogation, the old man was a pitiful sight — thin, filthy, and barely distinguishable from a beggar. Yet none among the citizens filling the square showed him any pity.

Who was Chansley, after all? The main perpetrator behind the magical stone hoarding scandal, the Great Fire of District 13, and the human trafficking cartel. As he struggled up the thirteen creaking steps to the scaffold, his joints stiff and pained, jeers, curses, and a rain of rotten eggs and tomatoes pelted him from all sides.

The method of execution had been decided — beheading rather than burning. Out of respect for the families who had lost loved ones to the fire, they chose not to ignite another blaze in the imperial capital.

Beheadings in the Hadelamid Empire were notoriously brutal and barbaric. Despite the existence of guillotines, executioners often used dull blades or axes, hacking at the neck multiple times. Chansley died on the seventh strike. He met his end amid horrific pain and terror, but even that was likely not enough to quench the searing resentment of his countless victims.

Following Chansley, other heads of noble families — Navarre, Gigolo, Hadenfork, and others — were executed one after another. Until sunset, the square echoed with the screams and groans of the dying. All the families involved in the scandal had their titles, lands, and wealth confiscated. Overnight, more than fifty noble houses were erased from the Empire’s rolls.

Meanwhile, that day also marked the deadline for fines related to the magical stone hoarding scandal. Many nobles who failed to pay were stripped of their titles and prepared to face prison time for their crimes.

Thus, the central political scene of the imperial capital, long dominated by entrenched noble houses, became as barren as a harvested field. Naturally, the empty seats needed to be filled — and despite the bitter cold, nobles from all across the Empire were flocking to the capital, eager to seize new opportunities.

❇

While the summer rainy season signaled the end of the sweltering heat, the winter rainy season marked the beginning of a season of bitter cold.

Starting from the day of the full moon in November, a steady, chilly drizzle would soak the world. When that rain turned to sleet, and eventually to snow, true winter would have arrived.

It was noon, with the rainy season just around the corner. After a long period of confinement, Brigitte was finally allowed to step outside her quarters. Emperor Desmond II had summoned her.

“I greet Your Majesty. Have you… been well?”

Brigitte’s voice was deliberately tender, appropriate for a long-awaited reunion between father and daughter. But Desmond II, seated high upon the imperial throne, wore not the face of a father.

“Betty, I’ve called you here to lift your confinement.”

“I am… deeply grateful, Father.”

She bowed respectfully, but Desmond II didn’t dismiss her. Tension tightened in Brigitte’s chest. After a long pause, Desmond II spoke abruptly.

“Chansley has been executed.”

“…”

“You don’t seem surprised. Well, I suppose no matter how much I confined you, your ears weren’t completely blocked.”

“…It is a misunderstanding. If one commits crimes, they must be punished. I merely believed the execution was a just consequence for his role in the Great Fire.”

“Is that so? Then you must be even more surprised to hear that not only Chansley, but many other members of the Night Society were executed alongside him.”

“What?”

Brigitte reflexively raised her head.

“We executed over a hundred people for their involvement in the human trafficking cartel.”

“…!”

Brigitte’s shoulders trembled, her eyes widening. It was always difficult to tell if her shock was genuine or from being caught.

“A human trafficking cartel… you say?”

“Yes.”

“How could such a thing…”

“I had Rubio and Eve lead the investigation. They uncovered a conspiracy involving the Night Society, the Potion Guild, and the back-alley guilds.”

“Brother Rubio and… Eve.”

Brigitte clenched her teeth as she uttered the second name. Beneath her respectfully bowed head, her cold blue eyes flashed with a chilling, venomous light.

“It was shocking indeed.”

“Yes, truly…”

“Brigitte Agnes Hadelamid.”

Before Brigitte could say anything more, Desmond II’s stern voice cut in. She straightened her back instinctively under the intensity of his tone.

“Did you have any knowledge of these events?”

“I did not. I know nothing about it.”

“I thought you would answer that way.”

“…”

His reply was enigmatic. Brigitte broke out into a cold sweat, wondering if he had somehow caught her in a lie.
Yet Desmond II’s voice remained detached and indifferent, as though he had never expected anything from her in the first place.

“Chansley was executed without interrogation. The nobles who mingled with him were all put to death as well. Whatever you did, it will be buried forever.”

“F-Father!”

Realizing she had lost his trust, Brigitte forgot herself and raised her voice, heedless of her surroundings.

“I truly know nothing! Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because trusting you does not benefit my rule.”

“…”

“Are you resentful? No — it must be your pride that is wounded. But if you wished to maintain your pride, you should have proven yourself worthy.”

“Father…”

Brigitte ground her teeth in frustration. It was a bold, insolent act before the sovereign of the empire, but Desmond II did not scold her. Instead, he delivered an even harsher blow:

“Hah, after all the years I spent grooming you to be my successor…”

“…”

“Why can’t you be more like Eve?”

“…!”

It was a ruthless, unforgivable insult. Humiliation and rage drained the color from Brigitte’s face. Desmond II, seemingly struck by a headache, waved his hand dismissively.

“Leave me.”

“…”

“I said, leave.”

“…I shall take my leave.”

Even after stepping out of the audience hall, Brigitte stood frozen, rooted to the spot. Elijah, sensing the ominous air around her, hesitated to approach.

“Hah.”

At last, Brigitte exhaled sharply, her face contorting with rage. The fury she had suppressed before Desmond II surged up to the top of her head.

“Eve…!”

A murderous aura, darker and heavier than even the foul miasma of the demon dragon Ambroxia, poured out from Brigitte. She spat her next words like venom:

“Let’s go, Elijah.”

If she didn’t tear apart something delicate and beautiful right now, she felt she would lose her mind. She hurried forward — and at that moment—

“…”

“…”

At the other end of the corridor, Eve was approaching. The very person Brigitte most wanted to crush was drawing near. Her lips twisted of their own accord, her fists clenched, and her eyes sharpened dangerously.

But in the imperial palace, showing raw emotion was considered disgraceful. Brigitte, as the senior princess, lifted her chin with pride and waited, pretending to be serene and arrogant, as protocol demanded. She expected Eve, as the junior princess, to stop and offer a proper greeting.

“…!”

But Eve simply brushed past her, as if she hadn’t seen her at all.

Brigitte spun around furiously, her eyes flashing.

“Evienrose!”

“…”

Only then did Eve stop in her tracks. She slowly turned, revealing Brigitte’s trembling, infuriated reflection in her calm gaze. Eve spoke in a composed tone:

“This is the Imperial Palace. You’ve only just been released from confinement — you would do well to mind your behavior.”

“…”

Brigitte forced herself to suppress her rage, schooling her face into a facade of calm.

“I heard you exposed the human trafficking cartel. You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I am pleased to have fulfilled my duty as a member of the royal family for the sake of the people.”

“For the people? How noble.”

Brigitte let out a bitter, scornful laugh. Eve responded in a low, steady voice.

“If not for the people, then…”

“…”

“Could it have been for you, Sister?”

“…”

“For your downfall?”

Her questioning tone and sharp gaze were anything but casual. Brigitte, chilled to the core for no clear reason, found herself unable to answer. At that moment, Eve smiled faintly, easing the oppressive atmosphere.

“If you have nothing more to say, I’ll be going.”

“…I never received an answer to my earlier question.”

“A question?”

Brigitte’s usually contemptuous eyes now held a rare seriousness as she looked at Eve.

“You were once a pathetic, cowardly burden. But now you’ve changed — changed so much. What made you dare to desire the same things I do?”

“Ah.”

Eve recalled the question Brigitte had thrown at her during the chaos in Dandelion when Mikael had been in danger. Back then, saving Mikael had taken precedence, so she hadn’t answered. The fact that Brigitte was asking again showed her burning curiosity, and her ignorance stirred Eve’s sympathy.

“You can do it too, Sister.”

Eve spoke the truth of her regression in a way Brigitte could understand.

“You die first, and then live again.”

“…”

The quiet, ominous voice whispered against Brigitte’s ear, sending a cold shiver down her spine. Yet Eve’s next words, delivered almost teasingly, deepened the chill:

“So maybe you should try dying once first.”

“…Pointless. Talking to you was a waste of my time after all.”

“Our thoughts align.”

Thus, the confrontation between the sisters temporarily came to an end. Both turned to go their separate ways — when—

“His Majesty! Your Majesty!”

A lady-in-waiting came rushing down the palace corridor, calling out loudly — a grave breach of decorum. Recognizing her as the personal maid of Princess Rosenitte, both Eve and Brigitte stopped her to ask what was happening, but the maid blurted the news first:

“Her Highness, the Eighth Princess, has awakened!”