The soft thud of the conference room door closing made Brima Bickel’s shoulders jolt. Her face was a pitiful mask of fear, yet beneath that terror lingered something else—an air of grim acceptance, as though she had already resigned herself to her fate.
Seeing that expression, Milly narrowed her eyes, a flicker of recognition stirring as she studied the girl. Just like father before his execution—standing on the scaffold, waiting for the blade to fall... The déjà vu told Milly all she needed to know. The poisoned cup must have been Brima’s doing. No one else would wear that look of resignation.
“Well then, um, the reason we brought you here is to talk about today’s incident,” Nicholas, apparently arriving at the same conclusion, began awkwardly.
But before he could continue, Edgar cut in. “No, let’s drop the act. This girl doesn’t look like she’s in the dark about anything.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“B-But...” Nicholas protested.
“It’s fine. Dragging things out only gives her time to come up with excuses. So? Why did you slip poison into the teacup in the first place?”
Edgar pressed the question, and Brima bit her lip, lowering her gaze.
“Hey, staying silent doesn’t help. What is it, some reason you can’t say?” Edgar continued. “It’s foolish, really. Keeping your mouth shut will only make your punishment worse.”
His sharp glare made Brima flinch.
Her pitiful state almost prompted Milly to step in, but the fact remained: The longer Brima hesitated to deny it, the more likely it was true. Milly let her eyes soften and released a quiet sigh.
“Brima. Was it you?”
The baron’s daughter still couldn’t bring herself to respond.
“There isn’t any hard proof. Only that the pattern on the bottom of the cup matched the design of the hair ornament you had. If we’ve got it wrong, then say so.”
Brima said nothing. She looked as though she were still deciding what to say.
Beside her, Edgar shot Milly a look of annoyance, his eyes practically saying, “We all know she’s guilty, just make her admit it already.”
If efficiency was the only concern, that would have been the way. But Milly couldn’t bring herself to do it.
She couldn’t forget the sight of Brima bowing and begging Angelina in front of Class A. That memory alone kept her from seeing Brima as the culprit.
“It was me.” The words fell into the silence, Brima’s voice quiet but steady.
None of the three, Milly included, looked surprised. Given Brima’s reaction and expression from the moment she entered the meeting room, it had been obvious she was the culprit.
“I... I painted the poison onto the cup with my own hands, tampered with the handles so they’d break off easily, and bribed a maid to place the poisoned cup where I wanted it. I-It was all me.”
This was, sadly enough, exactly as they had predicted.
As Milly lowered her eyes in silence, Edgar gave a flat “Hmph,” twisting a lock of his hair around his finger in boredom. “Motive?” he asked.
“B-Because...I can’t stand the grand duke’s daughter.”
“I see. And that tea set was supplied by your family as well?”
The question caught Brima for an instant. “Y-Yes. Our shop sells it. I... I stole it.” Her voice trembled so badly it was on the verge of breaking into sobs.
The sight was too pitiful to bear. Milly gripped the hem of her uniform skirt. She couldn’t help but think about what Brima must have felt, stealing a tea set from her own family’s shop and altering it with her own hands. She should have despised Brima, yet all Milly could feel was sorrow.
Was Brima truly the only one involved? Looking at her now, Milly found it hard to believe. Yes, Brima admitted it. And yes, the tea set’s origin could be traced back to her easily enough. But still, Milly couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it.
“Brima.” Calling her name quietly, Milly stepped closer. “Was this really something you did entirely on your own? With no one else’s will behind it?”
Brima gave the smallest of nods.
“Truly?”
“Y-Yes. It was all me.” Her faint voice, fragile enough to be lost in a passing breeze, dissolved into the spacious meeting room.
Edgar glanced at Milly as if to ask, “Well, what now?” Nicholas’s face stayed fixed in its usual grave expression.
Milly let out a slow breath. “I see.”
But everyone in the room knew the truth: Brima was lying. There had been someone pulling the strings, commanding this trembling girl to do their bidding. And yet Brima refused to say a word, insisting again and again that it had all been her own doing.
Watching her, Milly felt a flicker of déjà vu. She pressed her fingers to her temple, and soon the memory returned to that moment when Sierra’s hair had been cut. When Milly had confronted Brima, she asked whether there was someone else involved.
Brima had panicked, failing to give a straight answer. However, while frantic, she’d slipped up: “Just this once...I can’t. If I fail this event, then my house truly will... Please, forgive me! I beg you! I-I have to make Lady Angelina that girl’s ‘best friend’!”
You again, Angelina?
That self-styled villainess, Angelina Grey, always managed to make herself Milly’s problem. Milly still hadn’t figured out why Brima had blurted out Angelina’s name back then. Because Sierra insisted she didn’t want the incident to be made into a big deal, the whole matter had stayed quiet. Milly never uncovered what “best friend” meant in that context, nor what Brima meant by “event.” In the end, all that came of it was Sierra’s sadness.
Milly glanced at the clock and bit her lower lip. It had been nearly an hour since the poisoning occurred.
The teachers’ closed-door meeting to identify the culprit must be wrapping up soon. By now they had surely discovered that the cups had come from Brima’s family shop. At any moment they might walk in and take her away as the guilty party.
If that happened, time would effectively run out. So long as Brima kept insisting she had acted alone, the academy would punish her alone, no matter who was pulling the strings behind her. Nicholas’s plan to settle things quietly would collapse, along with his promise that the ducal house of Einzdohr would side with the grand duke’s faction. That road led straight to the Asteara house’s ruin.
There was no more time. I don’t have the luxury of waiting. Resolute, Milly clenched her fist. If the true hand behind Brima’s actions wasn’t unmasked before the teachers came, everything they’d done would be for nothing.
“Brima, I’ll ask one last time. Are you truly telling me no one else gave you orders?”
Brima gave the faintest nod.
“I see. Very well. As for you two,” Milly said to the boys accompanying her, her words rapid-fire, clipped, and commanding, “I have somewhere I need to be. Take Brima to the council chamber and hide her there.”
“Huh?” Edgar gaped, caught flat-footed by the abruptness. She didn’t waste time explaining.
“This is our plan. Edgar, you’re to lock the council room with the strongest warding spells you know. The teachers will soon be hunting for Brima. Your job is to buy us time. Understood?”
“Wait, what? I don’t—”
She cut Edgar off without pause. “And Nicholas, keep her occupied. Tell her some entertaining stories. Anything. Being shut up in a room will be dull enough otherwise.”
“Why do I feel like I drew the short straw here?” Nicholas muttered.
“Good. That’s settled.” Milly’s hand was already on the door. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turned back.
Brima was still staring at her, terrified, trembling, yet in her eyes, Milly caught a glimmer of something unshakable. The girl’s expression made it plain: Even if her lips were pried open, she would never name her accomplice.
A strange flicker of admiration stirred in Milly at that grim resolve. She voiced the words she had wanted to say all along. “I’m sorry I broke your beautiful hair ornament. Somehow, I’ll make it up to you.” The words left her, and without waiting for an answer, Milly turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber. Time was too precious to waste.
There was only one destination in her mind: Angelina Grey, the so-called villainess. If anyone held the key, it was her. Milly could not shake the conviction that Angelina knew something.