Why Would a Holy Knight Be Afflicted with Such a Curse? - Side Story Part VII

The moment people’s gazes were gone, I changed direction. Not toward the rear garden where the Castenor charity party was being held, but toward a side path with a walking trail.

At the same time, I pushed aside the ornaments draped over my crimson dress. And there, dangling between the decorations, a small, dangling flower pot was revealed.

Before I was completely out of the party’s light, I checked the condition of the black hellebore.

Fortunately, it was still intact. But it wouldn’t last long. Because I had to put it in a pot small enough to hang on my dress, leaving only the minimum amount of roots.

Now… how was I supposed to get in here?

Hiding in the shadows, I looked around.

All of the Castenor family’s bedrooms were on the third floor. Which meant scaling the wall wasn’t an option.

That meant I should go in through the servants’ side entrance… but that was also difficult. With a party that only happened twice a year, how many servants were going back and forth?

Eventually, I reached one conclusion.

The first-floor window it is.

Fortunately, I knew exactly where the windows that could fit a person were. After all, I’d been here more than once or twice.

The closest opening—er, suitable window—was on the first-floor reception room side.

Carefully, I walked through the shadows, making sure not to be seen.

Arriving at the reception room, it was fortunately empty. I first opened the window, and then, still dangling from my dress, I rested the black hellebore pot on the windowsill.

And just as I was bracing myself to leap over the sill—

*Snap!*

“…”

Someone grabbed my waist mid-jump.

“…Ahem.”

“…”

I awkwardly turned around.

To be honest, I didn’t even need to check. The texture of muscles honed through long training was far too familiar.

As expected, Celesto was there.

Dressed in a suit he normally never wore, with quite an angry expression on his face…

Celesto was in formalwear. A black suit with a navy blue cravat for accent, and even a boutonniere. A perfectly put-together ensemble.

Perhaps because of that, Celesto looked a little unfamiliar to me. How should I put it—it felt like looking at a strange nobleman.

It was strange. Every button was fastened, not a single strand of hair was out of place, the perfectly fitted attire—all of it was exactly the same as usual.

I gave an awkward greeting to him, who was looking at me expressionlessly with his hand still gripping my waist.

“Uh, um… how did you know I was here?”

“How do you think I knew?”

Celesto’s voice was low and calm, just as usual.

But there was strength in the hand gripping my waist.

I involuntarily furrowed my brow.

‘Ah, s**t. He must have been watching from the start, right?’

I had always known Celesto well, but over the past few months, I had come to know him even better.

So I knew immediately. That I was screwed.

And in times like this, when things had gone wrong, the truth was the only answer. If I tried to smooth things over with awkward lies, even my true intentions would end up being compromised.

“First, tell me where you’re—”

“I was on my way to your eldest brother’s room. To plant this.”

I showed him the small pot I had placed on the windowsill.

Celesto’s brow furrowed. His face said he was more than familiar with those dark red petals—he was sick of them.

Before Celesto could say anything, I quickly laid out my business, my plan, and my vision for the future.