Layla’s body staggered and fell weakly into Millay’s arms. Then Millay, firmly grasping her shoulders with both hands, whispered softly.

As if telling a secret.

“Princess, listen carefully. Your problem is not whether to get engaged now or not.”

It was a voice so soft that it made one focus even more. Layla lifted her head to look at him. Millay’s expression was very serious. There was no playful atmosphere at all.

Unconsciously tense, Layla slowly swallowed her dry saliva.

“What do you mean?”

“It means that the environment surrounding you, no, Wessex, is getting worse and worse.”

“…Has something happened to Wessex recently?”

Her father, the King of Wessex, was a man with the old-fashioned idea that daughters should not get involved in politics. Naturally, Layla was also in the dark about such matters.

But that doesn’t mean she was completely uninterested. She diligently read books said to be written by renowned diplomats and political scholars, and whenever foreign dignitaries came, she would seek them out to have various conversations whenever time and the other party’s permission allowed.

There was also an aspect of trying to alleviate boredom while living confined in the palace, but thanks to this, she had grasped more knowledge and external situations than her other sisters.

Currently, Wessex was too easy a target for powerful countries like Hankin or Fitzroy to devour.

However, since the King of Wessex had sent his daughters to form alliances with neighboring countries, she had expected that it would not collapse so easily.

But had something changed while she was in Filmer? When Layla sent a look asking him to say anything, Millay soon began his explanation.

“Do you know about Isabella Fitzroy?”

“Isabella Fitzroy… Are you talking about the First Princess of Fitzroy?”

“That’s right.”

The image of Isabella’s confident appearance flashed through Layla’s mind.

“Of course. I’ve met her before.”

She recalled Isabella, who entered the palace of Wessex a few winters ago, fluttering a white cape regardless of the cold, leading numerous vassals with confident strides.

Isabella Fitzroy, currently recognized as the most likely next successor in Fitzroy. Although only a few words were exchanged between her and Layla at the time, Layla thought Isabella’s confidence was very admirable.

She was the most impressive woman Layla had ever seen. So she envied her and wanted to emulate her.

But shocking words flowed from Millay’s lips.

“That woman… no, that First Princess is planning to occupy Wessex and kidnap Prince Cedric.”

Occupy, kidnap.

For some reason, extraordinary words flowed from his mouth. Words she never imagined she would hear now.

Moreover, Cedric is the name of her youngest brother. He was quite younger than Layla, very cute, and a bright child who followed her well.

To have such a child associated with the word kidnap. It should be a combination that should never come out.

Layla’s hands, held in Millay’s embrace, tensed. As she did so, slight wrinkles formed on Millay’s neat clothes, but there was no time to worry about such things.

“…What are you saying?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“But why?”

Thinking with her stiffened mind, Layla recalled a certain statement related to Fitzroy that had come from her father’s mouth not long ago.

It was a passing remark her father had made while informing her that he had promised to send her here as the fiancée of the Seventh Prince.

At the time, there was a small sense of unease about whether it was okay to send her to the First Prince of Fitzroy, but since there hadn’t been much news after that, she thought it must be alright.

In fact, would there be anyone to promptly relay news to her, stuck in a corner of the royal palace?

But as expected, had that judgment of her father offended the First Princess Isabella?

While Layla was busy organizing her thoughts, Millay added his opinion.

“If that happens, you will lose your value in this country. So this is not the time to be dazed here. The Princess needs to come to her senses as soon as possible and hurry back to Wessex.”

If Millay’s story is true, such an interpretation is not unreasonable.

Prince Reynold, who already disrespects her, was the type who would strip her of everything she had and throw her out on the street if Wessex were to fall, and still have more to spare.

“Where and what kind of story did you hear? Please tell me in more detail.”

“There’s news that the plan set by the First Princess of Fitzroy to usurp the throne includes assassinating the King of Wessex.”

“That’s…”

Shocked, Layla felt her hands trembling.

They were all such tremendous stories that she didn’t know how to respond. It was so unreal that it was difficult to believe outright.

“Even Reynold didn’t seem to know about this yet, where exactly did you hear this?”

To Layla’s unexpected question, Millay replied in a lowered voice.

“…Thanks to traveling through various countries, my sources have become quite special. If the Princess wishes, I can show you the report prepared by my adjutant.”

There was a hint of anxiety in his voice, worried that she might notice his true identity. If she did, she would surely refuse to accept help. But fortunately, Layla didn’t recognize him.

However, her complexion turned so pale that anyone who saw would feel sorry for her.

“I want to see it, that report you mentioned.”

It was a natural request, as she was still half in doubt. Millay gladly took Layla’s hand and led her out of the room.

A dark corridor where even the servants had mostly gone to sleep. However, as if escorting a woman was a common occurrence for Millay, he very skillfully matched his steps to hers.

Feet that made no sound and measured steps. Even though he didn’t seem to be particularly conscious of his walking, Millay’s gait exuded dignity.

‘For a mere nouveau riche… his noble bearing is indeed too natural.’

On the way to the office, Layla spoke to test Millay and to drive away the fear caused by the silence.

“What achievements did you accomplish to receive the title of Marquis, Lord Millay?”

“Rather than achievements… My father was a rural count of the Ethereal Duchy governing eastern Hankin, and a few years ago, when His Grace the Duke went out to deal with a Wave that occurred in the east, he went missing.”

“By Wave, do you mean monsters appeared?”

“It’s a common occurrence in Hankin.”

Layla nodded. Fortunately, Wessex was outside the monster-infested areas, so they hadn’t experienced such hardships in the past few years. But hearing this reminded her of the times when her father or members of the imperial family would occasionally visit other regions to deal with Waves during their time living in the Hankin Empire.

“To put it simply, omitting various details, I rescued His Grace the Duke, and upon his recommendation, the imperial family bestowed upon me the title of Marquis. I inherited it after my father passed away.”

Layla immediately voiced a question that suddenly occurred to her.

“Lord Millay, are you perhaps an ability user?”

She recalled what had happened earlier in the garden behind the banquet hall.

The stone that suddenly rolled… Seeing that, Layla had suspected if there might be a psychokinesis ability user nearby.

Because the rather heavy-looking stone had suddenly rolled between them, without anyone passing by or a strong wind blowing.

Although the princes of the Filmer Kingdom are also ability users, their ability is Remote Viewing, and she had heard that Reynold’s power was almost nonexistent among them.

Moreover, there weren’t many people nearby.

For a moment, Millay hesitated in his step. But it was unclear whether this was because they had just arrived at the office or if it was a reflexive reaction to her question.

It was even more unclear as he opened the office door and answered nonchalantly.

“I wish I had such abilities. The world might have seemed more interesting then.”

“Then I’m curious how you rescued His Grace the Duke of Ethereal.”

He lit the lamp on the desk and smiled softly, narrowing his eyes.

“You are quite curious, Princess.”

As he said this, he handed her a stack of documents. It was perhaps natural that this action felt like a signal to Layla.

As if to say, don’t try to find out about my identity.

Such stubbornness encouraged Layla’s suspicion that Millay might be concealing his true identity.

‘Can I trust someone who’s lying?’

He must know that he appears suspicious, so why doesn’t he say anything? Though this fact left her uneasy, Layla looked down at the title of the document for now.

Report on Isabella Fitzroy’s Movements