"Are you saying Lanche created both the new malt liquor and Claire Beer?" Yufi asked, disbelief etched on her face.

"Lanche is..." Fenlei hesitated.

If she remembered correctly, he was the good-for-nothing Yufi always mocked.

*How pitiful*, Yufi had secretly thought, *that Kestia married that waste of space so young. She didn’t even get to use her marriage as political leverage.*

Kestia nodded. "He’s my husband. A remarkably clever man. He’s helped me greatly and often encourages me."

A faint smile touched her lips as she spoke.

Yufi stared, stunned. Kestia clearly felt no regret about this marriage—only happiness?

*Did truly happy marriages even exist in this world?*

Especially among nobles. Merely avoiding a spouse you despised was considered a blessing, for men and women alike.

Marrying someone like Lanche—the absolute worst possible match—would make any noblewoman a laughingstock.

Yet Kestia didn’t seem to care. She respected her husband.

Just then, Kestia and Fenlei looked up. Two figures in black stood atop the roof.

Fenlei instantly gripped the hilt of her sword. "Who’s there!" she demanded.

Yufi snapped to attention, frowning as she scanned their surroundings.

They’d entered a deserted alley.

"No need to tense up. We mean no harm," Lanche said, voice low and muffled by laughter. He carefully avoided Kestia’s gaze—being recognized would be social suicide.

He wasn’t hiding out of necessity, but revealing himself now offered zero benefits.

He and Enami leaped down, landing before the three girls.

"You’re investigating the recent incidents?" he asked.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Fenlei glared, authority sharp in her tone.

"Haha! Just here to offer clues," Lanche declared, pressing a hand to his golden mask. His exaggerated gestures ensured anonymity.

*Being recognized would be social suicide.*

Enami snorted beside him. *Told you this would happen. Good thing I didn’t fall for his nonsense.*

Though now... if a fight broke out, could he even handle these three?

Enami subtly shifted her stance, ready to bolt.

"What clues?" Kestia asked calmly.

"Two shady figures hiding behind masks? Why should we trust your so-called clues?" Yufi scoffed.

Lanche ignored her, focusing solely on Kestia. "To solve these crimes, catching the perpetrators won’t be enough. You must eliminate the root cause forcing them to act. *That’s* how you’ll earn real merit."

His words struck home. These strangers understood exactly what they needed.

"What root cause?" Kestia pressed.

"Kestia, we should arrest them first and ask questions later," Yufi insisted.

Fenlei nodded, hand tightening on her sword.

"Hey now! I’m here to *help*! Must you be so brutish?" Lanche groaned.

"Listen to him first," Kestia said, raising a calm hand.

In that moment, her composure outshone Yufi’s and Fenlei’s.

It came from strength they could never match.

Yufi had witnessed Kestia facing Gorde. She knew her own limits.

Fenlei had heard the stories but remained skeptical—until now.

Only true power granted such fearless ease against schemes.

Lanche exhaled in relief. Fighting his own wife was the last thing he wanted.

He pressed his golden mask, shoulders shaking with laughter. "You’re tackling public order, not individual cases. You seek acclaim-worthy merit, not just justice for criminals."

"Still not clear? Find a single target to blame. Eliminate them."

"Who can be blamed?" Kestia asked, a flicker of memory stirring—Lanche had suggested this before. She’d dismissed it, refusing to rely on him.

But now... who would the nobles accept as a scapegoat?

"That’s my clue," Lanche snapped his fingers.

"The victims are nobles or wealthy merchants. Nobles *should* be revered—yet they’re butchered like commoners. Sometimes by their own soldiers."

"*That’s* why the nobility rages. *That’s* the problem you must solve. *That’s* how you’ll earn their praise and trust."

He flung his arms wide like a theatrical villain, yet his words held raw conviction.

Yufi and Fenlei watched, increasingly convinced he *was* the scheming mastermind behind it all.

"Now," Lanche dropped his arms, pausing to seize their full attention.

"There’s an organization teaching people: *Fear not noble authority. Take from the rich. Do not plunder the poor.*"

"*Nobles aren’t sacred. Before the gods, all living beings are equal.* They’re inciting people to raise blades against nobility."

"Who?!" Yufi’s face turned grave. This ideology threatened the very foundation of their class.

"This defies the Holy Canon! A blasphemous organization!" Fenlei seethed.

"Precisely. They can shoulder the blame. Eliminate them, and your immediate problem vanishes," Lanche said, locking eyes with Kestia.

"*Temporary*?" Kestia echoed.

"Yes. Only temporary," he confirmed, offering no explanation.

The true root was noble oppression—a problem no one could solve yet.

"Why help us?" Kestia studied him.

"Hmm..." Lanche’s gaze darted away, scrambling for an excuse.

"Lanche sent us to assist you," Enami stated solemnly.

"*Hah!*" Lanche shot her a glare.

"Isn’t that right?" Enami’s eyes crinkled with mischief, nearly exposing him.

"Indeed! Lanche is our most revered friend. We never refuse a friend’s request!" Lanche boomed, still playing his role.

"*That* good-for-nothing? Impossible," Yufi scoffed first.

Lanche bristled. *This little Yufi’s getting bolder by the minute.*

"Madam," he jabbed a finger at her, "you may insult my disguise, but never my dearest friend! His brilliance and charm deserve our highest praise!"

Enami nearly gagged.

*Must he praise himself so disgustingly?*

"Disgusting," Yufi sneered openly. "Associating with that man means you’re certainly—"

She cut herself off, glancing at Kestia beside her.

She simply couldn’t believe that useless man could help anyone—especially not Kestia.