THE MASTERMIND APPEARS!?

Thick clouds smothered the sun, and snow started drifting down from the gloomy sky. It was a pretty cliché setup for a tragedy.

“I’m just looking out for number one,” Guin sneered. “It beats taking orders from a little brat like her.”

Maximilian gave a bored shrug. “Fair enough. As long as you do your job, I don't care about your motivations.”

“Once the Doem Faction takes the crown, I expect my payday.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Clara just stood there in a daze, listening to them go back and forth.

If only Big Sis were here, things wouldn't have gone to hell like this, she probably thought.

She was convinced that if Rose were in her shoes, everyone would have stayed united. Rose was the kind of person people actually trusted and relied on. But Clara? She just couldn't live up to her sister’s shadow.

Because she was "unreliable," Guin had betrayed them. Because she was "unreliable," Bart had been sliced open. And now, everyone was backed into a corner.

God, I wish Rose were here instead of a screw-up like me...

In her mind, she’d been playing the game wrong from the start. A girl who only had a fancy family name shouldn't have been calling the shots. She should’ve suspected Guin sooner. She’d heard the rumors about a mole, but she never even considered that Guin—a guy who had served her family forever—was the traitor.

Looking back, the red flags were everywhere. She’d just been too naive to see them, choosing to believe "there's no way" until the very end.

Everyone had helped her. I’d even helped her as Shadow. And yet, she’d still managed to fail. She started crying, feeling like garbage for letting down everyone who’d believed in her—especially Bart, who was currently bleeding out on her account.

“Alright, Owl! Show yourself!” Maximilian’s voice echoed through the snowy courtyard. “Do you really want to see what happens to this girl?!”

The wind picked up, whipping the snow into a frenzy and blurring the view. Very dramatic.

“If she dies, who’s the Royalist Faction going to prop up?” Maximilian continued. “There isn't anyone else left with a bloodline the public will actually accept.”

He wasn't wrong. Her only real value was her DNA. She was propped up because she was "high-born," and that was the end of the story.

But hey, some people had actually believed in her anyway.

Clara wiped her eyes and looked at Bart, who was sprawled out on the frozen ground. The snow was piling up on his blood, turning it a vibrant, nasty red.

Then she noticed his back was moving slightly.

He’s still alive.

There might still be time.

And that meant she couldn't give up.

“I'll give you ten seconds. 10... 9... 8... 7... 6...”

Clara’s brain was finally kicking into gear. She needed a move. Anything.

“5... 4... 3...”

She scanned the perimeter and finally spotted it.

Behind Maximilian, a group of Doem Faction prisoners had closed in. Right in the middle of them was the guy who had warned her about the mole.

He was staring at her, waiting for a signal.

Clara gave a small nod.

Turns out, there were still people who hadn't given up on her yet.

“2... 1...”

Maximilian stopped the count.

“...The hell do you think you're doing, Zack?”

Zack, one of the Doem prisoners, had a knife pressed firmly against Maximilian’s jugular.

“I'm the son of that gardener over there,” Zack said, his voice thick with rage. “I'm Bart’s son.”

“I see. So you were the other mole,” Maximilian sighed. “A survivor of the Special Forces that guarded the royal family? I thought we'd purged every last one of you.”

“I'm just a trainee.”

“Small fry, then. I should've cleared you out with the rest of the trash.”

“Maybe I am small fry to a guy like you. But even small fry can put their lives on the line for a cause. Now, let Lady Clara go.”

Zack had his knife at Maximilian’s throat, and Guin had his sword at Clara’s. Total stalemate.

“Well, this is a predicament,” Maximilian muttered, letting out a long, weary sigh.