Posha’s plan—or rather, the plan Posha explained as mine—was simple.
“I’m going to disguise myself as Christine.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? Christine is a beauty, and I am a beauty too. If I put my mind to it, fooling a princess from the Allied Kingdom who’s unfamiliar with the capital’s affairs should be a piece of cake.”
“Even if that’s true, what do you plan to do after fooling the princess?”
“We don’t need to do anything. The princess will do it all for us.”
“…?”
“Think about it. The princess must have a lot of questions for Christine, right?”
It was clear the princess was after the photograph.
Not the photo itself, but something that could be learned from it.
To such a princess, Christine, the subject of the photo, would look like a treasure trove of information.
“The princess will ask many questions, and that will be our answer.”
I understood Posha’s words.
‘So, she’s saying we should become an AI chatbot.’
Let’s imagine we are an AI chatbot trying to collect information.
If we directly ask the user for personal information, the user will become wary and distance themselves.
They would never hand over their precious personal data.
But what if we quietly receive questions and provide answers?
People would throw all sorts of questions about their personal lives at us.
‘Is there a way to make my annoying little brother listen better? He’s three years younger, and he’s 15.’
‘I want to get into a top university. Is it possible with these grades?’
‘I fought with a friend over money. This is my friend’s side and this is mine. Who do you think is right?’
When such questions accumulate, a lot of information piles up in the AI chatbot.
The questioner’s age, family relationships, grades, education, personality, relationships, and even financial circumstances.
Later, the user might ask something like, ‘Based on our conversation so far, can you describe me?’ and only then realize with shock how much information has been passed to the AI.
Sometimes, you can gather information not from the answers, but from the questions themselves.
‘Using the princess’s questions to gather information… That’s a bold idea.’
As if reading my mind, Posha spoke.
“It is a bold idea, but it’s a plan that came from Mr. Hayes’s mind, isn’t it? I’m sure it’s possible.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer and asked.
“…What on earth made you think that was my plan?”
She just finished explaining the entire operation herself, so why is she calling it my plan?
“You were the one who suggested we use the unopened mail, weren’t you? Is there any other way to utilize unopened mail besides this?”
Uh… well?
‘To be honest, I just thought we could figure out how to use it once we got it.’
I had absolutely no such concrete and daring plan in mind.
“I was merely trying to keep up, even a little, with Mr. Hayes’s quick wit.”
Posha said humbly.
‘This is wrong.’
Thanks to the smooth-running misunderstandings so far, Posha saw me as too great a detective.
To the point of mistaking the plan she formulated for one I had devised.
“Since it’s Mr. Hayes’s plan, I believe it will definitely succeed.”
She was even drawing courage from the fact that I supposedly made the plan.
The misunderstanding I had postponed dealing with because it was tricky had now reached an irreparable level.
“Listen to me, Ms. Posha. This plan is too dangerous.”
I tried earnestly to dissuade her with a serious face.
“There’s no need for you to take on such risk.”
“You’re opposing the plan you yourself came up with.”
Posha stared at me as if seeing right through me.
“Is it guilt? Do you feel guilty thinking I’m shouldering all the risk for your business?”
My shoulders twitched involuntarily.
It felt like my inner thoughts had been read.
“…That’s right.”
I confessed to Posha straightforwardly.
“I’m the one who needs the princess’s information. I’m the one trying to obtain information related to Taylor John. But if you, Ms. Posha, meet the princess in disguise, and things go wrong, you’re the one who ends up in danger.”
At my words, the corner of Posha’s mouth twisted upward.
“No, Detective. That’s arrogance.”
“…?”
“Thinking this is solely your personal business is arrogance. I, too, have a reason to meet the princess.”
Posha’s goal was revenge for her husband.
An unchanging objective since the day we first met.
“You said the princess’s subordinates are going around shooting Herbert clan members, right? That won’t do. That’s my share.”
Posha said with a chilling smile.
“So, approaching the princess is something I must do.”
—
I couldn’t break Posha’s intense resolve.
In the end, a letter impersonating Christine was sent to the princess.
A letter written in Christine’s handwriting, sealed with Christine’s seal.
The content regarding the recipient had been cut out, and at the end, a single sentence forged in her handwriting was added.
[I would like you to come alone to the location I specify tomorrow at 2 PM.]
By the way, this final request was my suggestion.
“If the princess completely ignores this sentence and brings her subordinates, let’s just run away.”
“Alright.”
I secretly thought the princess would ignore the letter.
Asking a princess to come alone to a back alley… even I, who wrote it, knew it was nonsense.
But on the fourth day of tracking Taylor John, at 2 PM.
When the appointed time arrived, the princess truly appeared at the promised location.
“!@$%%^.”
The incomprehensible words of a foreign woman.
Then, a man’s voice echoed.
“Her Highness the Princess wishes to apologize for bringing an interpreter.”
Posha replied.
“I suppose it can’t be helped. I’m alone here, and I don’t understand the language of the Allied Kingdom either.”
True to her word, Posha was alone.
But they weren’t the only ones listening to this conversation.
‘Ms. Posha was right. The sound really carries well.’
A long pipe installed at the meeting place.
Through that pipe, which looked like a sewer pipe at a glance, the sound was clearly transmitted to where I was hiding.
[It’s a place the Herbert clan used often. I figured the princess, being their enemy, wouldn’t know about it.]
It seemed Posha’s guess had hit the mark.
“Her Highness expresses her pleasure. And she’s asking about the reason your face has changed.”
“Huh? My face?”
“She says it’s different from the photo of Miss Christine she saw before.”
“Ah… I washed off my stage makeup.”
Posha said, bowing her head as if embarrassed.
“The heavily made-up appearance on stage and my everyday look can’t be the same, right? Besides, I’m even disguised now so Wilhelm won’t recognize me.”
“She asks if those sunglasses are also part of the disguise.”
“That’s right. I’m wearing dark sunglasses so people won’t recognize me.”
Actually, it was to hide her eye color.
She could change her hair color with dye, but this world didn’t have things like colored contact lenses yet.
Hiding her eye color with sunglasses was the best option.
‘It’s fine. The princess won’t suspect further.’
Not many people know Christine left for another kingdom.
It’s a fact I know because I helped Christine stow away.
Even if she pretended to have been hiding in the Imperial Capital all along, it wouldn’t be strange.
Most importantly, hadn’t Posha mentioned something about the photo?
It was information difficult for non-involved parties to know, so the princess would believe her.
All the more so because it was a lie the princess wanted to believe.
“Her Highness is curious about the content written in the letter.”
“What content do you mean?”
“She says she has no memory of the part about receiving a great favor from Her Highness.”
“Ah, that was…”
Originally, it was content referring to me saving Christine during the previous explosion incident.
It was a part we couldn’t cleanly cut out like the recipient’s address.
“That was… a thank you for taking Wilhelm away.”
Posha said, as if testing the princess.
“He’s the worst man to keep by your side as a lover, isn’t he? Don’t you agree?”
A remark subtly hinting at the true identity of Grand Duke’s Son Wilhelm—Taylor John.
At those words, the princess let out a cackling laugh.
Soon after, the man interpreted.
“She says he’s a pathetic man, but he was easy to handle because he was weak towards women.”
It was an unexpected answer.
‘My premise was that Grand Duke’s Son Wilhelm is Taylor John, and the princess knows this.’
In that case, the expected reactions towards Wilhelm would be disgust or fear.
But the princess seemed to look down on Wilhelm.
In a way, she seemed to belittle him.
“Her Highness offers an apology. She says Grand Duke’s Son Wilhelm Eduard becomes pathetically weak only in front of high-status women, so Miss Christine might not have experienced it.”
Grand Duke’s Son Wilhelm becomes pathetic only in front of high-status women?
‘Is that also why Taylor John only targets high-status women?’
If so, it would be a truly pathetic motive for the crimes.
‘By the way, what a terribly condescending way of speaking.’
Posha replied awkwardly.
“…I’m glad to hear Wilhelm is weak in front of Your Highness. I hope you handle him well.”
“She says she’ll gladly do so, and advises Miss Christine to let go of her lingering feelings now. She’s demanding you hand over the photo.”
Gulp.
This was the watershed moment.
“The photo… was taken from me.”
“Vilhelm?”
Ah, I could understand that even without interpretation.
“No. It wasn’t taken by Wilhelm. It was taken by a detective from the East called Janus. For some reason, it seems the detective didn’t hand the photo over to the Grand Duke’s Son.”
It was a lie I had agonized over.
If I said the photo was in my possession, the chance of getting out safely would decrease.
If I said the photo had already been taken by the Grand Duke’s Son, the chance it was already burned increased.
The princess might give up on the photo and lose interest in the whole affair.
So, the appropriate lie was this one.
As expected, a confident answer came back.
“She says it’s not a problem. She says she can find the photo before the Grand Duke’s Son does.”
“That’s a relief. But in that case, since I don’t have the photo, does that mean you can’t protect me?”
Her tone was quite desperate.
Enough to make the listener feel they held the upper hand and could demand anything.
“Her Highness wishes to hear about the circumstances five years ago, when Miss Christine took the photo with the Grand Duke’s Son.”
“If I tell you that, will you protect me? Uh, what exactly are you curious about…?”
“She demands a detailed explanation of the circumstances when the photo was taken.”
“Hmm… The weather was nice that day. The breeze felt good too…”
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“The photo was taken indoors, wasn’t it?”
“Ah, yes! That’s right. I meant the walk to the photo studio felt that way. We took the photo at a studio.”
The princess snorted, as if something was suspicious.
“Her Highness asks. That day, what was behind the large velvet sofa in the photo studio?”
“Huh? That was…”
“Who was the uninvited guest captured in the photo?”
“An uninvited guest? I…”
“Finally, what flower was the Grand Duke’s Son holding?”
Posha was at a loss for words.
I, too, felt my thoughts freeze in panic.
‘Those aren’t questions you can ask without knowing the answers.’
The princess knows the answers.
What was captured in that photo, exactly what scene was recorded.
‘That’s impossible. It’s the photo Christine had all this time.’
She knows the details of that photo that well?
How is that possible?
“Come now, a rose! Wilhelm was holding a rose.”
Using the man’s voice, the princess answered.
“That’s incorrect. The Grand Duke’s Son was holding nine daffodils that day.”
I urgently pulled out the photo from inside my coat.
It was true.
The photo showed nine daffodils.
This wasn’t something you could know just by hearing about the photo from someone.
It seemed the princess had truly seen this photo and memorized all the information within it.
The princess muttered in an eerily subdued voice.
Even without hearing the interpretation, I could guess its meaning.
The meaning of ‘You are suspicious.’