Even though she was trying her hardest to look friendly, the resentment in her eyes was impossible to miss. It was obvious she’d forced herself to come over.

Maybe her family had ordered her to. Go make connections, no matter what.

Yeah. You’ve got it rough, too.

How hard must it be to smile in front of someone you hate? Camilla decided to let the awkward display slide.

“Everyone looks like they’re having a lovely time.”

A familiar voice cut in. It was Consort Jabiela—the host of today’s tea party.

At her appearance, everyone bowed deeply.

“Your Grace, thank you for inviting us.”

“Lady Jabiela, you’re as beautiful as ever today.”

After the formal greetings, the garden grew noisy again.

“.......”

But the moment Camilla saw Consort Jabiela, she couldn’t say a word. She had to put all her strength into keeping her mouth from falling open.

“Welcome, Lady Camilla.”

Sometime during that brief chaos, Jabiela had already come close. She greeted Camilla warmly.

“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you for inviting me.”

Camilla dipped her head quickly, hiding her startled expression.

With her head lowered, she bit down on her lip to stop the groan that wanted to spill out.

What is that? What happened?

Camilla slowly raised her eyes to look at Consort Jabiela.

And behind her stood another Consort Jabiela.

Her soul.

She’s just like them back then.

Like Rania, like the Water Ghost’s son—Consort Jabiela’s soul stood there with its head drooped, stripped of any awareness.

The instant Camilla saw it, goosebumps raced over her skin. She knew exactly what state that was.

It had been taken. Her soul.

This is insane.

She didn’t understand what had happened. When they’d met last time, she’d been fine. So why—why was she like this now?

Ah.

Something flashed through Camilla’s mind, sharp and fast.

The day Priest Daniel had visited the trading house, Chris had said something in passing.

‘They say Consort Jabiela has one, too.’

He’d been talking about the holy relic necklace. That red necklace.

He’d said it was trending lately—that even Consort Jabiela wore one.

That’s it.

She’d been [N O V E L I G H T] hit by that red relic.

Watching Jabiela chat warmly with the others, Camilla let out a hollow laugh.

“I’m going to lose my mind.”

Seeing the relic’s effect with her own eyes made her thoughts knot up.

Chris had said there were a lot of people who owned that necklace.

If that’s true...

“Lady Camilla.”

Just as Camilla sank deeper into her thoughts, Consort Jabiela approached again and spoke to her in an overly friendly tone.

The friendliness made Camilla’s skin crawl—but she returned it with the brightest smile she could manage.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

“Introduce me?”

All of a sudden? Who?

“Oh—perfect timing. He’s coming over now.”

At those words, Camilla turned her head slowly—and the moment she saw who was approaching, she went blank.

A man in his early twenties walked toward them with a faint smile.

“Mother.”

It was Prince Abihel—the Second Prince, Consort Jabiela’s biological son.

He really did take after his mother. With looks like that, he stood out immediately.

“Oh my.”

“Your Highness, Prince Abihel!”

“It’s been so long, Your Highness.”

The noblewomen and young ladies, startled by his sudden appearance, hurried to greet him one after another.

After exchanging light nods with them, he walked straight to where Camilla and Consort Jabiela stood.

“Mother.”

“Welcome, Your Highness.”

Consort Jabiela received her son with a pleased smile, then guided him to greet Camilla. Naturally, everyone’s attention gathered on the three of them.

“It’s been a while, Lady Sorpel.”

“...It has.”

What is this supposed to be?

Camilla returned the greeting while keeping her unease off her face, but her mind was spinning.

*****

“Ugh...”

Camilla pressed hard at the space between her brows as if trying to crush the headache out. Ever since returning from the palace, her expression refused to relax.

On the table in front of her lay two necklaces, shattered into small pieces.

The red holy relic necklace she’d received from Priest Daniel—and the black holy relic necklace the Viscount of Orléans had possessed.

“Red Stone and Black Stone...”

They said when a relic ran out of power, the stone’s color turned black. And when that happened, the temple’s explanation was simple: replace it with a new holy relic.

“But...”

When she looked into it, no one—up to now—not a single person had come in to replace theirs.

She’d wondered if relics simply lasted that long, but that wasn’t the case either.

There were definitely people whose stones had changed color.

And yet not one of them had purchased a new relic.

“Consort Jabiela was the same.”

According to the maids who attended her, the relic Jabiela wore had turned black as well.

And not long after, she’d said she didn’t need it anymore and ordered them to throw it away.

Even though she’d treasured it so much before.

“So it really is that, isn’t it?”

The moment the red relic turns black—

“That’s when it swaps the soul.”

Camilla didn’t know the mechanism, but there was no other way to interpret it.

First the Emperor. Now the Consort.

She couldn’t make sense of how things were moving behind the scenes.

“At this rate, are they going to swap everyone’s souls?”

A cold shiver crawled up her spine. It wasn’t a joke.

“They were all wearing them at the festival.”

The people she’d seen at the Harvest Prayer Festival not long ago—most of them had those necklaces around their necks.

“Jesus...”

She couldn’t even tell where to start untangling this.

No—could this even be fixed?

Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she was allowed to stick her hand into something like this.

“I want to ignore it.”

Really. Truly. She wanted to ignore it so badly she could scream.

Anyone could tell the danger level was off the charts.

The second you stepped in, warning lights would start flashing red in every direction, screaming death—who would jump into that willingly?

“This is insane.”

But it kept happening right in front of her. How was she supposed to pretend she hadn’t seen it?

And she’d been given one of those necklaces herself. She’d avoided it this time thanks to the blood Reaper Habel had smeared on her—but she had no idea what might come next.

“And this party, too.”

She didn’t understand the intention. Why had the Second Prince suddenly appeared there?

It had been blatantly staged—Consort Jabiela had made sure of it.

The entire time they drank tea, she’d been trying so hard to create an opening for Camilla and the Second Prince to build “closeness.”

What is it?

If Jabiela hadn’t already had her soul taken, Camilla might’ve brushed it off.

Even if she hated her inside, it wouldn’t be strange for her to want to form ties with someone being praised as a “saintess,” if it could strengthen her son’s position.

But that’s not what this is.

Camilla couldn’t bring herself to believe it was that simple.

Had that bizarre organization given her orders?

“God, what a headache.”

“Why?”

“Huh—!”

Camilla jolted at the sudden voice, caught mid-thought.

“What—when did you get here?”

“A little while ago.”

It was Dorman.

“Did something happen?”

“That’s... no. More importantly—where have you been running off to lately?”

Outside the window, the sun had already set. It was dark.

He hadn’t been around since morning. So did that mean he’d left then and only now came back?

“Where have you been?”

At Camilla’s question, Dorman scratched his cheek, looking awkward.

“I’ve had... something going on.”

“What kind of something?”

“Personal.”

When he refused to answer properly, Camilla’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t tell me you caused trouble again.”

“I didn’t!”

“Are you sure?”

“I didn’t! Why do you act like I do nothing but cause problems?”

“Because you do.”

“Wow. That’s harsh. And I’ve been busy lately because of someone!”

“Because of who?”

“I don’t know!”

What is with him?

Dorman wouldn’t explain a thing, but he still puffed out his lips like he was sulking. Camilla clicked her tongue. This was not the important part.

“Tell Habel I want to see him.”

“Habel? Why?”

“I saw another person whose soul was taken.”

“Where?”

“At the Imperial Palace.”

Even if not right away, she thought it would be better to at least learn the True Name of whatever soul had taken Consort Jabiela’s body.

“...What do we do?”

“Hm?”

“He won’t come.”

“What?”

Dorman’s reaction was strange. He forced an awkward smile, like he was cornered.

“Even if I tell him to come, he won’t.”

“Why?”

“He’s... kind of mad at me.”

“What?”

Habel? Mad at you?

If Dorman told him to fake his death, Habel would probably do it without blinking—so hearing that he was angry at Dorman wasn’t just surprising. It was bizarre.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Just... hahah.”

Dorman dodged again, laughing it off.

“Did you two fight?”

No—could they even “fight”? When Camilla kept pressing, Dorman quietly stood up.

“Do you want some tea?”

“Sure.”

Camilla watched him prepare it, tilting her head.

What is it? The way he kept disappearing lately, the way he was acting now—something was clearly going on.

And Dorman’s mood seemed a little lower than usual.

“Here.”

A teacup was set down in front of her. But instead of leaving, he stood there, blankly facing her.

“What? Do you have something to say?”

“Um...”

Dorman trailed off, then sat back down across from Camilla. For a moment, he just looked at her in silence.

“How have you been lately?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you asking that out of nowhere?”

“I’m just curious.”

He smiled faintly.

“Ever since you came here, a lot has happened. I was wondering if it’s still hard for you to adjust.”

“Randomly?”

“Haha.”

A lot had happened—yeah. She didn’t even know how many times she’d collapsed.

But that still wasn’t the point.

“Dorman.”

“Yes?”

“I won’t yell.”

“W-what?”

“If you caused trouble, say it now. The sooner you clean it up, the better.”

“I didn’t!”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m serious. I’m really just asking because I’m curious—if life here is still difficult for you.”

“Hm.”

Was there really no hidden meaning? He looked genuinely wronged.

Still not fully convinced, Camilla answered lightly.

“Do I look like I’m doing well to you?”

“Do you still want to go back to your original world?”