Chapter 29

The Grand Hall fell into a profound silence.

Within that stillness, Archbishop Mintz was the only one standing, his body trembling violently.

“Hmph. I see. So that statue was a fake, then?”

Leo, having been named, remained calmer than anyone else in the room. He arrogantly adjusted his crossed legs and stroked his cheek.

“I see… if we assume that, then the mystery of when the switch happened and the reason for Victie’s missing head both become clear. The culprit didn’t want you or Kirio to see the real Victie’s face. Ah, and I suppose the ‘culprit’ is me?”

Leo let out a soft, rhythmic chuckle.

“Impossible!”

Mintz screamed once more.

“The-The statue was a fake? Nonsense! I confirmed the face of the statue of Saint Fata during the Founding Festival, and it was the same as always!”

“Naturally, it must have been replaced with a fake after the festival. Specifically, after it was decided that Princess Victie would participate in this award ceremony.”

“Wait… hold on.”

Queen Ice spoke up, clutching her head with one hand as if trying to steady herself.

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying the statue was a fake? That another statue was brought into the cathedral’s basement? Or perhaps, under Leo’s guidance, you weren’t actually taken to the basement, but to some other location?”

“No, neither. If there were another life-sized statue, Kirio and I would have noticed. Furthermore, when I described the characteristics of the place we snuck into, Archbishop Mintz himself acknowledged that we had truly been in the cathedral’s basement.”

“What about a replica room?”

Arle blurted out the thought.

“The place was definitely underground, and it was vast. If someone tried to build a perfect replica of the cathedral’s basement—especially near the cathedral itself without being noticed—I can’t even imagine how many years it would take. At the very least, there’s no way it could be done in the time since Princess Victie’s participation was announced.”

“Ha… haha… hahahahahahahaha!”

Suddenly, Archbishop Mintz began to laugh hysterically. His raspy laughter cracked and turned shrill.

Everyone watched the old Archbishop’s outburst with bewilderment.

“How foolish you are. Exactly—there’s no way it could be done in time! You say he made a fake statue? How long do you think it takes even a master craftsman to carve a life-sized, intricate stone statue? A fake statue? Ridiculous! There’s no way it could be finished between the announcement of the Princess’s participation and the ceremony!”

“Leo would possess skills at least equal to a master craftsman. He used to have a hobby in sculpture, and he’s the kind of man who forgets to eat or sleep until he has mastered a craft.”

“I’m confident I wouldn’t lose to an average craftsman,” Leo asserted proudly, despite the fact that it incriminated him.

“That is why I am saying even then, it wouldn’t be in time!”

Shifting instantly from hysterical laughter to fury, Mintz roared.

“I see… the statue in the basement was under Archbishop Mintz’s management too. Replacing it with a fake would be a matter of professional negligence, so he has to deny it desperately.”

Ignoring Leo’s sarcasm, Mintz continued.

“Besides, how would you bring it in? That stone statue? And how would you take the original out? Do you mean to say you carried it alone? And where did you move it through? Don’t tell me you walked through the front entrance boldly. Or are you saying you built a secret passage large enough to move a life-sized stone statue? Absurd! I admit it was a blunder to miss the small passage you used, but we certainly would have discovered a tunnel that massive!”

Mintz squeezed the words out in a near-scream.

“I believe the statue was brought in and taken out through that same secret passage we used.”

“Ridiculous! A stone statue couldn’t possibly fit through a path so narrow a child can barely squeeze through!”

“By the way,” I said, suddenly relaxing my posture to change the subject.

“The statue of Saint Fata in the basement and the Princess’s attire for this ceremony were both based on the legend of Saint Fata, weren’t they?”

The sudden shift in topic left everyone confused and struggling to keep up.

“Y-Yes… the tekito-cloth and the longsword. It is said Saint Fata founded Shark wearing only those. The statue in the basement and Princess Victie’s ritual attire both reflect that.”

Mintz, having lost his momentum, spoke while trying to catch his breath.

“However, we couldn’t very well give Princess Victie a single piece of crude, undyed tekito-cloth, so it was decided she would wrap herself in multiple layers of long, white-dyed tekito-cloth,” Geralt added, tapping his temple as if recalling the conversation.

“What of it?”

Leo asked, looking puzzled.

It didn’t seem like acting; even Leo didn’t seem to understand the intent behind bringing this up now.

“Tekito-cloth. My house had many items made from it. It’s a specialty of Shark and a friend to the common folk.”

“I see… I forgot you were a commoner,” Uraenus muttered.

“The weave is coarse, which makes it rough to the touch, but it’s easy to dye.”

I listed the characteristics of the cloth.

“So what? Who cares about some cloth?” Bob snapped irritably.

“It was sleek… and as smooth as the surface of a lake.”

At those words, everyone fell silent. Their faces asked: What on earth is he talking about?

Kirio even looked slightly frightened. She probably thought I had finally snapped.

“I’m not talking about the actual tekito-cloth. I’m talking about the cloth draped over the statue of Fata that Kirio and I saw. Or rather, it would be more accurate to call it the ‘cloth portion’ of the statue.”

“Hah!”

Archbishop Mintz began to laugh again, as if finding his second wind.

“Haha… hahah! S-So that’s it? That’s why the statue is a fake? Ridiculous! Do you have any idea how old that statue is? What a joke! Hahaha! Over so many years, the fine details of the weave would naturally wear away and disappear!”

“Or maybe the sculptor found it tedious and skipped it,” Leo chimed in, though he really shouldn’t have.

“Don’t be absurd! That statue is Saint Fata herself, who turned into stone to watch over this country for all eternity! There is no ‘sculptor’!”

Mintz screamed again, veins bulging in his neck.

“Please, calm down. I’m not saying the statue is a fake because the coarse weave of the cloth wasn’t replicated.”

“…What?”

Mintz froze instantly.

“It’s the face. The problem is the face—or rather, the head. The statue of Saint Fata I saw looked as if it were alive even in the candlelight; every single strand of hair and even the nape of the neck were reproduced in minute detail.”

Realizing what I was implying, everyone gasped, and then—

“Tch.”

Leo looked up at the ceiling and clicked his tongue.

“Being a perfectionist backfired on me, didn’t it?”

“Of course, I can’t call it a definitive contradiction. However, while the weave of the tekito-cloth—one of the symbols of Saint Fata—was absent, every single strand of hair was vividly reproduced. It felt slightly unnatural. When you weigh that against the possibility that the statue was a fake…”

“The head,” Mintz squeezed out the words, his breathing labored. “Are you saying you… swapped the head of the statue?”

“If it’s just from the neck up, one could manage to carve it in time if they worked desperately. And if it’s only a head, it’s possible to carry it in and out through that secret passage.”

At that, I spread my arms wide.

“Now then, let us consider exactly how the events unfolded, from swapping the statue’s head to showing it to Kirio and me.”

No one replied. They were stunned.

Only Leo remained intrigued, his golden eyes waiting for my next words.

“The moment you learned Princess Victie would attend the award ceremony, a plan formed in your mind, Leo. Granted, at that stage, information was scarce, and the plan was likely vague. It went like this: If you could trick Kirio and me into misidentifying Princess Victie’s face beforehand, you could take her place during the ceremony and manipulate the perceived timing of her death.”

“W-Wait, hold on now, Van,” Merlin interjected with uncharacteristic agitation. “But that relies entirely on the premise that Princess Victie would even show her face to you. Without knowing that for sure…”

“True, the finer details of the ceremony weren’t decided until the last minute, and I don’t think Leo knew everything from the start. However, Leo has attended many ceremonies as the head of the Baal family; from that position, he’s well-versed in the relationship between the Church and the Royal Castle. He could have predicted the general flow. Even if the Princess hadn’t intended to lift her veil before us, Leo—having swapped places with her—could have simply faked an accident to show his face to Kirio and me. A stumble, a falling veil… it’s the same logic as planting the explosives. He had the confidence to ensure his preparations wouldn’t go to waste, no matter how things turned out.”

Merlin fell silent at my explanation.

“Now, regarding that secret passage—the one behind the cathedral. I don’t know if it was made specifically for this incident. Knowing Leo, it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d built it a long time ago as a prank, unrelated to any crime. Regardless, you used that passage to sneak into the cathedral’s basement, didn’t you, Leo? Likely to confirm the size of the statue’s neck. If you made a head with a vastly different neck size, the seam would look unnatural when you attached it later.”

Then, I continued.

“Using your own body-manipulated female form as a model, you spent every spare moment carving stone into a statue. A head, specifically. You only had to worry about the dimensions of the neck. Once finished, you snuck back into the basement and cut the original statue’s head off with a saw or something similar.”

Mintz let out a groan of despair. He likely imagined the gruesome image of the Saint’s statue being decapitated.

“Using clay or something similar, you attached the head you modeled after yourself. Naturally, the seam would be noticeable, so you painted over it to hide it. Even then, the neck area would look somewhat unnatural, but there was little chance we would focus solely on the neck in the dim candlelight. Besides, it was the first time Kirio or I had ever seen the statue; even if we felt something was off, we’d simply assume that’s just how the statue looked. You carried the original head out and likely have it stored somewhere. Once the stage was set, you brought Kirio and me along for a midnight viewing. Ordinarily, such an invitation would make us suspicious, but Leo, you’ve built a persona where such behavior is perfectly in character.”

“Don’t make me sound like some common brat,” Leo said, pouting, though he looked almost entertained.

“But wait, the Founding Festival is coming up soon, isn’t it? It would be discovered then,” Laika pointed out reasonably.

She was right. At the upcoming festival, the statue in the cathedral basement would be seen by royalty, clergy, and nobility alike.

“I suspect he intended to swap the head back before then. Since that specific passage is no longer usable, he’d use another.”

As I spoke, I felt a flicker of doubt. This was one of the fuzzier parts of my deduction. How exactly did he plan to manage it? Since our break-in was now known, cathedral security would surely be tightened. Could he really swap it again?

“If it were me, I wouldn’t do that.”

Leo sat with his legs crossed, swinging his foot idly as if in a good mood.

“Listen. Hypothetically—purely hypothetically. If I had done such a thing, I wouldn’t bother with anything as tedious or dangerous as swapping the head back.”

“Then what would you do?”

“This is all hypothetical, right, Van?”

“Yes. Hypothetically.”

“I see.” After closing his eyes playfully, he continued. “If it were me, I would have hidden some of those Dragon Rounds inside the stone statue when I swapped the head. Given my family status, it’s a certainty I’d be participating in the basement events at the next festival. I’d just detonate them with magic then.”

You’ve got to be kidding.

Everyone, myself included, froze in shock at that cold-blooded statement.

“It would have been convenient if people assumed Victie’s murder was foreign sabotage or a terror attack by cultists. Or rather, by that point, the nobles, clergy, and royalty would be too busy shifting blame to bother finding the real culprit, heh.”

While we stood paralyzed, Leo curled inward, laughing.

“Oh, right. Hey, Van. Your story isn’t over yet, is it? For instance… cosmetics. It’s impossible to transform perfectly with magic alone. Especially in my case—because of my bloodline, my skin tone is different from Victie’s.”

“Right… yeah.”

I shook off the chill. Don’t be swallowed up. This is Leo. That monster. A detective novel cannot exist if the detective is overwhelmed by the suspect. Steel yourself.

“The issue of cosmetics doesn’t require much thought. If you carved the statue’s face to be one you could easily mimic, you’d only need a tiny amount of white powder or cream to adjust your skin tone. There are plenty of ways to handle that. For example, smuggling it in advance, just like the explosives. You could have buried it along the path to the cathedral. Or, since it isn’t ‘dangerous goods,’ you could have simply swallowed the container. Or perhaps you substituted it with flour or milk from the kitchen.”

“I doubt I’d go for that last one. You certainly have quite the imagination,” Leo chuckled. “But as you say, there are indeed plenty of ways.”

“Thinking back, I should have noticed the discrepancy sooner—the gap between the Princess Victie in my memory and the one described by the King, Queen, and her attendant. A fragile girl, as submissive and weak as a doll. That was the image of Princess Victie I gathered from everyone else.”

“Hm? What of it? Was the Victie you met not like that?” Leo tilted his head innocently, as if asking if he’d made a mistake in his acting.

“The eyes. They were sharp. That didn’t match the image of Princess Victie I’d heard about. But now I understand. It wasn’t that your eyes were ‘sharp.’ You were squinting, weren’t you? You had to hide them as much as possible. Even in the gloom, if that color of yours were spotted, the game would be over.”

I stared directly into Leo’s eyes—golden eyes, rare even in Pangea. They were a gold that felt like it could swallow you whole or crush you under its weight. In that dark cathedral, if Princess Victie’s eyes had flashed gold, one might have assumed it was merely the candlelight reflecting in them. Still, it was only natural that he’d try to hide them.

“Hahaha! Interesting, very interesting. Now then, Van, let’s get to the main point.”

After laughing and clapping his hands, Leo’s face suddenly went serious.

“If that’s the case, when did I swap places with Princess Victie?”

Finally. This was the moment of truth.

“Naturally, it was before my presentation, and after yours.”

“At that timing, was there ever a chance for me to head to the cathedral without being spotted by the two guards?”

“There was.”

The answer didn’t come from me.

It was Yasha, whose stoic face had turned pale, her lips trembling.

“It was then, wasn’t it? When you came to the Grand Hall.”

“Yes, I believe so too. At that moment, every condition was met.”

I nodded.

“Leo, during your presentation, you asked Princess Victie to open the door from the inside once it was over. I don’t know exactly what you said to convince her. Regardless, after finishing your turn, you entered the hall with Mr. Jin and Miss Raika. Once you reached the entrance hall, you announced you were hungry and were heading here, to the Grand Hall.”

“Yes, that’s right. I even got into an argument with Jin over it.” Leo jerked his chin toward Jin.

“U-Umu,” Jin agreed, his face taut.

“You came in here and asked Yasha for a snack, but you finished quickly and left the Grand Hall. Then, you immediately sprinted for the cathedral at full speed. With this method, you didn’t need to watch for the guards to enter the ceremony hall or go to the second floor. Since you parted ways just before they went upstairs, you knew they would be on the second floor the moment you left the Grand Hall.”

“And if someone had been in the entrance hall?” Leo asked with a glint in his eye, as if enjoying my response rather than truly questioning the logic.

“The probability wasn’t that high, and even if someone had come down to the entrance hall, their likely destination was Yasha. That means they would have entered the Grand Hall immediately. If someone was there, you could have simply pretended to return to your room, waited for them to enter the Grand Hall while slowly heading for the stairs, and then slipped out.”

“Hmph. Well thought out.”

Leo spoke in a way that could have been self-praise or a compliment to my reasoning.

“Let’s assume that much is true. You sprint to the cathedral, get inside… that leaves about five minutes or so before the next person—me—arrives. It’s short, but not impossible to use body manipulation to kill Victie and take her place. But if it was me in her place during your presentation, why was there no sign of the real Victie? And why did her headless corpse and a blood-soaked room suddenly appear later?”

“That mystery was easily solved once I assumed you were the culprit,” I said quietly.

Once I made that assumption, the mysteries began to unravel one by one. How can I describe my feelings at that moment? The feeling of my deduction moving forward effortlessly, even as I desperately tried to deny the possibility.