Please, please let it be like that…

The luggage cart continued to carry loads, and the gardener devoted himself to tidying up the winter garden. The citizens seemed tired from their constant movement, but overall, they looked strangely excited.

It was the night before the festival, filled with anticipation and excitement.
However, Liz’s face was more composed than ever. She lifted her gaze from the bustling garden where preparations were in full swing and looked down at her own hand.

‘Roberto Cardis.’

Liz’s eyes, scanning the business card of the Assassination Guild, gradually hardened.

“I can’t postpone it any longer.”

She had half-expected Rene to return.

Though she had stormed out in anger, upon calm reflection, Liz had somewhat hoped that Rene might consider following her advice.

However, for more than three days, there was no letter from him, and the atmosphere of the Esmond Duchy, which Rosa had secretly investigated, was no different from usual. Adrian was still well.

“In the end… you’re not any different from me, Rene.”

A faint smile escaped Liz’s lips.

She had hoped for a difference.

She had hoped that it would be different for her, who believed that having no family was better.

She had hoped that, separated from her family, she would finally recognize the preciousness of it, and willing to do anything to protect her family.

She had believed that she would extract unwavering loyalty from her older brother’s eyes.

It was a futile expectation.

For Rene, too, family was merely a stranger, just like Liz. The anger that made her feel like sticking a fly to her neck was purely because he hadn’t told her everything.

“Phew…”

Liz let out a deep sigh and turned her body. Then, she took out a single piece of paper from a drawer in the wall cabinet.

She sat down on a chair, dipped the pen in ink, and began writing on the paper without even realizing her own handwriting, tilting it and letting the ink flow.

After completing the writing…

“Hehe.”

She could only laugh. It was too simple a method to kill someone.

「Date: Morning of Hispel 27.

Target: Adrian Feloid Esmond, the sub-viscount of the Esmond family.

Method: Anything is fine.」

She felt unfamiliar to herself. What would Hersis say if he saw this? Would he say it’s disgusting not only to me but also to our unborn child?

‘I will kill the spy in front of you. I will show everyone how the enemy spy and the grand duke plotted, one by one. I will show you how your uncle tried to change thousands of lives and positions.’

He had poured out such words when he was half out of his mind in a comatose state. It didn’t matter since he wouldn’t hear it anyway.

Yet, it felt somewhat relieving. The heavy weight that had pressed on her chest all along seemed to lighten. Moreover, a feeling of reverence for what she was about to do was felt.

“This time is no different.”

Liz muttered to herself as if trying to brainwash herself. Filling her mind with a sense of duty to prevent guilt and self-loathing from creeping in.

Not just murder but saving dozens of lives.

She folded the paper.
After folding it five times, it became a long stick shape. She tied it to the foot of the dove that had been placed there in advance.

The well-trained messenger pigeon patiently waited until everything was tied up.

Next, she took a few small red fruits from the prepared bag and offered them to the pigeon.

It was the pigeon’s favorite fruit, a mountain ash fruit grown only in the guild. She had been told to give only a small amount, just enough to seem insufficient. That way, the pigeon would instinctively come back well.

Sure enough, even after eating all five, the pigeon continued to coo and peck at her palm. It seemed like all she had to do now was send it off.

Liz wrapped the pigeon in her hands and took it to the window.

That’s when it happened.

“Your Majesty the Queen!”

Rosa burst in, flinging the door wide open. She seemed to have run up the stairs, as she was heavily panting.

“What’s the matter?”

Liz asked, still holding the pigeon in her hand.

“A letter has arrived for Her Majesty.”

“Who’s the sender?”

“Mr. Esmond.”

Liz stood still for a moment. If the pigeon hadn’t stopped moving with a rigid, jerky motion, it would have seemed as if time had frozen.

Eventually, she spoke.

“Read it.”

Rosa obeyed without further ado.

“If it’s not too late, leave it to me. I will handle it thoroughly… That’s what he says.”

As Rosa had already guessed that their relationship was not a typical superior-subordinate one, she could easily accept this impolite tone. Liz’s conflicted eyes met Rosa’s.

“If it’s not too late… that.”

Liz mumbled quietly, almost smiling, and then turned back to the window. A moment later.

Rosa could see one pigeon flapping its wings outside the window.

Nothing was tied to its foot.