12 O’Clock Marionette

Chapter 4

The audience murmured in hushed voices at the sudden turn of events.

However, the masked nobles remained frozen, as if turned to stone. Were they even breathing?

Even without seeing beneath those masks, I could tell their faces had gone pale.

"Th-that man…!"

"Why is he here?!"

"Shh! Be quiet!"

Distressed whispers crawled across the floor like a swarm of ants.

The puppeteers, caught off guard, faltered, and the marionettes collapsed into unnatural positions.

Cruello strode forward as if reveling in the commotion, his footsteps echoing through the silence.

And within that sound was something unsettlingly cold.

Srrng! The sharp rasp of a blade being drawn.

"Aaagh!"

Someone screamed in terror.

The target of Cruello’s provocation—Viscount Genum and the man who had received his bag—finally snapped out of their stunned state.

They attempted to flee in a panic.

Cruello’s arm swung without hesitation.

A red arc scattered through the air.

"That lunatic…"

I sighed, pressing my fingers to my forehead.

The delicate silence shattered instantly, and horrified screams erupted from all directions.

People shoved against each other in their desperate rush to flee the theater.

The sound of their pounding footsteps was almost a shriek of its own.

And in the midst of it all stood a single man, utterly at ease.

"What a shame, running away so suddenly. You startled me enough to make me swing my sword."

"W-why are you doing this to me, Your Grace?" Viscount Genum stammered.

"Why? Does it really matter?"

"What kind of nonsense—?!"

Ignoring him, Cruello looked down at the floor.

With a swift, effortless kick, he sent the fallen bag flying into his grasp.

"Bringing something so cumbersome to a performance… How inconsiderate."

"T-that’s—!"

"I recall seeing you try to hand this over to your friend earlier."

"Give it back!"

The viscount lunged for him, but Cruello sent him sprawling with a single well-placed kick.

As the man groaned in pain, Cruello unfastened the bag and let its contents spill out.

With a soft clatter, small, gleaming white stones tumbled across the floor.

A deep, suffocating silence overtook the remaining spectators.

Cruello’s lips twisted into a smirk.

"You must be quite fond of each other."

"You—!"

Viscount Genum, seeing no other option, gripped his cane and split it apart, revealing a hidden blade.

He swung at Cruello without hesitation.

"Aaagh!"

The exchange lasted no more than a single beat.

I barely saw what happened, but from behind, the scene resembled nothing more than a cornered rat facing a predator.

That was not the way he had been taught to wield a sword.

In fulfilling his purpose, I had also gained a confirmation I never wanted.

Cruello White Desert wasn’t just slightly off-course—he had completely veered off the rails.

He had grown exactly as Fate had described him.

Pebula, help me.

"For a known subordinate of Count Bonetti to end up like this, tsk."

This wasn’t the time to stand around in shock. I needed to leave while he was satisfied with his performance.

I had no desire to see any more of this mess.

As I rose from my seat—

"And here we have the Count’s beloved daughter as well. I wonder what she thinks of this."

Cruello hurled a bomb into the already volatile scene.

He turned his gaze toward me, and the attention of the room followed, sweeping toward me like a crashing wave.

I had worn a mask upon entering the theater, but if my name was revealed, it would be pointless.

Muttering a curse under my breath, I realized that lunatics like him didn’t know when to stop.

"Won’t you come over, Lady? You should discipline your father’s servant."

At this point, I almost wanted to laugh.

"The… the viscountess is here?"

Viscount Genum, still bleeding heavily, lifted his head in astonishment.

But the moment he saw me, his shock twisted into something else—disbelief and contempt.

Just from my hair color alone, he must have realized I wasn’t Minuet.

"Siora Velvet?"

Cruello caught his muttered words, laced with disbelief and scorn.

And immediately, he took the bait.

"Does the Bonetti household usually allow their subordinates to address their masters so carelessly?"

"N-no, I only meant that the Count’s daughter is—"

"Ah, now that I think about it, you’re right. Whether or not you choose to disrespect your master is your own business. However."

Cruello cut him off before he could finish his excuse.

And then, abruptly, he raised his sword high.

Wait.

Was he serious?

"I, however, cannot stand the thought of my fiancée being disrespected."

"Y-Your Grace, that’s not what I— Please, spare me!"

"May the gods forgive a man blinded by love."

"Wait!"

"Aaaaaah!"

Before I could stop him, the blade came down.

The sword shattered into multiple fragments, scattering across the room.

One of the shards struck the stage’s lighting, causing it to flicker erratically.

The tension in the air became almost unbearable.

Right in front of where the sword had fallen, Viscount Genum was curled into a ball, trembling violently with his hands covering his head.

Still alive.

"Pfft."

Laughter.

In the absolute silence that followed, it was easy to pinpoint the source.

Cruello.

Cruello White Desert was hunched over, shoulders shaking with laughter.

At first, it was quiet.

Then it grew louder.

Until his voice filled the entire theater.

Every remaining person stared at him in stunned silence.

Viscount Genum’s face was ashen, almost corpse-like.

Cruello reached out and patted his back lightly.

"It was a joke."

He spoke with amusement still lingering in his voice.

The next moment, footsteps echoed from outside.

A flood of people poured into the theater.

White armor emblazoned with the Imperial Sun Emblem—the Imperial Knights.

They headed straight for Viscount Genum, who could no longer stand on his own, and the man who had received his bag.

"This is a theater, after all. I was simply putting on a performance. The Emperor shall decide your fate."

Cruello didn’t even bother to look at the viscount.

Instead, he closed his eyes.

And then, spreading his arms wide—

"For the glory of His Majesty the Emperor."

I was certain I wasn’t the only one who wanted to smack him for that.

"Knowledge accumulates, wealth grows, and history advances."

"Then why does power, unlike these, vanish and reappear within a single human lifetime?"

"An ancient scholar once pondered this."

"‘If even the tiniest fragment of power were gathered over hundreds of years, it could reach the gods.’"

"Thus, Morion was created."

"Magic, once finite in human hands, accumulated into an immense force."

"But as the energy grew, it became tainted, infused with vast impurities, turning its essence corrupt."

"No one could wield it."

"And so, another thought arose."

"‘Let us create a vessel capable of handling Morion.’"

"They sought out those whose blood resonated with impurity, binding and refining their lineage through generations."

"After centuries of effort, the perfect candidate was finally born."

"His name was Cruello."

"And the world was destroyed."

That was why I had left the temple.

That was why I had spent years fighting against fate.

And yet, despite all my efforts, everything still aligned with Fate.

Without any sign that my actions had made a difference.

Sitting on my bed, I let out a sigh.

There were three fundamental problems:

1. The tool ? Morion
2. The workshop ? White Desert Elders
3. The wielder ? Cruello

Even if I managed to prevent the immediate catastrophe, unless I eliminated all three, the same events would inevitably repeat.

So, when I became Amy, I tried both reforming Cruello and searching for Morion.

Destroying that wretched artifact and dismantling the Elders would make for a clean solution.

However—

"It wasn’t in the White Desert estate."

No matter how thoroughly I searched, I found nothing.

My best guess was that Morion was hidden somewhere within the White Desert Territory itself.

"Which means I have to marry him."

To search the territory freely, I needed a legitimate status that wouldn’t raise suspicion.

The conclusion was the same, and so was the path.

I had to stop getting worked up over Cruello’s theatrics.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to erase what I had witnessed at the theater from my mind.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Just then, the door burst open.

I had already sensed the presence, so I wasn’t startled as I greeted her.

"Hello, Minuet."

It was Minuet Bonetti.

"The Imperial Knights just took my father away. What happened at the theater?"

"Well, let’s see. A minor misstep by the Count’s subordinate? He was caught smuggling contraband."

Minuet’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Viscount Genum was reckless. Of all places, why conduct an illegal trade at a meeting with the Duke?"

"I was the only one who knew we were supposed to meet at the theater if we accepted the proposal."

"Hm?"

"You didn’t read it carefully? It was written at the bottom of the invitation."

"So the Duke lured him to the site of his own smuggling operation?"

He had deliberately set out to stir up chaos within the Bonetti household.

I let out an impressed whistle.

"That’s quite a move."

"That much is fine. I was aware he dabbled in smuggling now and then."

"You say that so casually."

"It’ll be troublesome, but the family won’t collapse over this. Just cut off the loose end, and that’s that."

She spoke indifferently, even though the ‘loose end’ in question was her own father.

I suddenly recalled what Gavotte had said during a family meal.

"You should have lived with integrity! At the very least, you should have avoided being blackmailed! Why must the Bonetti family be reduced to a Duke’s plaything because of your corruption?!"

If Minuet wasn’t fazed by simple smuggling, that meant the Count’s crimes were far more extensive.

Truly, the world had no shortage of villains.

I made a mental note to report every charge against him before I left.

"But there’s something more important than that."

"More important… Oh, you mean whether I succeeded in changing the engagement?"

"Tell me."

"Nice to meet you, sister."

After all, he had already called me darling—there was no way he’d take it back now.

I decided to keep it a secret that I still didn’t know Cruello’s conditions.

I had expected Minuet to be surprised, but instead, she smiled.

"Actually, I already knew."

"What?"

"This arrived just a moment ago."

She handed me something.

A letter bearing the White Desert seal.

Inside, the contents were straightforward—expressing delight at establishing a strong bond between our families.

But the closing line was what sealed the deal.

"Please convey my warm regards to the esteemed Lady Siora Bonetti."

Cruello D. White Desert.

It was confirmation.

I had expected this outcome, so it didn’t shock me.

What did surprise me was Minuet’s expression.

She was smiling, but it felt… different.

Completely unlike her usual self.

"You’re not even mad? He called you to the theater and got your father arrested."

"Well, it’s better than handing the Bonetti family over to a dog, isn’t it?"

Did she think she’d lose the family entirely if she married Cruello?

What was his reputation?

Minuet had suddenly become much more accommodating.

"Since my father has been taken to the palace, finalizing your adoption will be much easier."

"Oh. You’re awfully considerate now."

"Shouldn’t there be a difference between a passing guest and family?"

Her eyes curved softly.

"Welcome to the Bonetti family."

Hearing those words, it finally felt real.

I had taken a step forward.

At the very least, I wouldn’t be dying in the streets.

"Let’s begin your education tomorrow."

"…Education?"

"As the Bonetti Count’s second daughter, you mustn’t disgrace the name."

"Uh…"

"Don’t worry. I’ll assign someone suitable for the task."

The way she held my hand suddenly felt ominous.