Chapter 6

“Hehe, I’ll take the White Queen.”

“My Knight and Pawn were neutralized so easily as well? Good grief, you work your Queen far too hard.”

“She is much more nimble than a dull-witted King, after all.”

Waltzer Prison.

Even during an early summer afternoon, this space remained perpetually dim, yet it was surprisingly comfortably furnished.

What was originally ten individual solitary cells had been knocked through to create a spacious living room.

On the meticulously polished floor sat leather sofas, a heavy table set, and even velvet carpets.

From the high ceiling, a massive chandelier hung.

Every item was well-maintained; it would be more appropriate to describe it as a room in a royal castle rather than a prison cell.

Currently, a man and a woman were relaxing back into the plush sofas, enjoying a game of chess.

One was a rugged man in his prime, with striking, rich black hair and sky-blue eyes.

The other was a silver-haired woman who had aged beautifully; even the way she rested her chin on her hand seemed glamorous.

This was Heidemarie, a former prostitute with a beauty so radiant it was hard to believe she was the mother of a fifteen-year-old girl. She gently kissed the White Queen she had captured from Gilbert.

“I wonder if my darling Elma has brought at least one ‘Queen’ at the castle to her knees by now?”

“Just because she left this place doesn’t mean she’ll necessarily stay at the Royal Palace.”

“Oh? Would you like to place a bet? I’m quite good at gambling, you know.”

When she giggled, Gilbert simply shrugged in silence.

In this “Empire” known as Waltzer Prison, there was no fool brave enough to challenge her to a bet.

It was then that the door opened.

“Tea is served.”

A door adorned with delicate carvings opened, and a man pushing a silver wagon entered the room.

He had ashen hair streaked with white and eyes of the same color.

Dressed in a high-quality shirt and trousers with a slim tie, his appearance—combined with his gentle, intellectual features—gave him the refined air of a butler serving high-ranking nobility.

As he brought in the tea set with smooth movements, Heidemarie raised a slender, well-groomed eyebrow.

“Oh, how rare, Morgan. To think that you, ‘Sloth’ himself, would personally brew tea for us.”

“It is because you chased away my dear Elma, isn’t it? And after I raised her so carefully to be my successor, including teaching her how to brew tea.”

As he spoke in a soft, rebuking tone, Heidemarie pressed a hand to her chest as if wounded.

“Chased her away? How cruel. How could a helpless sinner possibly defy a royal decree to release an innocent girl?”

“Your facial muscles are betraying your tone and gestures. Honestly… for someone who has seized control of Waltzer and wields more power than an average royal, you have a lot of nerve saying that.”

“You shouldn’t say ‘you,’ it’s ‘we,’ isn’t it? This is the castle belonging to the seven of us.”

“…I suppose it is.”

Morgan did not argue. It was a simple fact.

Since the night the moon turned pale fifteen years ago, when they quietly rose up in revolt, this prison had been their comfortable stronghold.

They had remodeled the interior with a berserker’s supernatural strength, raised medical and hygiene standards to an abnormal level under the direction of a mad doctor, and used a kidnapper’s brainwashing techniques to snuff out any seeds of rebellion before they could sprout.

And what had Morgan done?

…He had done nothing. Because it was too much trouble.

He had merely “refrained from interfering” with the frantic activities of his comrades, so long as it meant he could drink a delicious cup of tea.

Morgan—a peerless scammer born in a remote village of the Duchy of Rutland—had ceased to feel any passion for life from the moment he lost his entire family to poverty.

The knowledge he had amassed while dreaming of social advancement and the art of slipping into people’s hearts were utterly useless if they weren’t there when needed.

He had spent his time simply passing the days by sweet-talking nobles who mindlessly hoarded wealth, swindling them out of their gold.

He never dirtied his own hands. He merely “exerted influence” and remained a bystander.

After all, it would be absurd to become industrious just to punish someone else’s negligence.

But, yes.

Regarding Elma—who was born in this place fifteen years ago and had shown him an innocent smile that very day—he intended to raise her with his own brand of affection.

Dining manners essential for communication, the art of brewing tea to relax the soul.

Even the method of reading micro-expressions.

If she could master and manipulate human emotions, her life would surely be very easy.

Just like Morgan’s life now.

A scammer who stays perched in a high place, reading expressions and moving people with words alone. Truly lazy.

That was how Heidemarie had assessed Morgan when they first met.

Because she found it amusing to assign the names of the Seven Deadly Sins to the seven of them, it had become a habit among the group to call one another by those names.

Since Elma had dutifully referred to those around her as “Father of Sloth” or “Big Brother of Greed,” she likely believed that this was simply how families were.

“Oh yes, Isaac—‘Gluttony’—was also in a fit. He was complaining about what you’ve done, after he trained her to the point where her ‘single strike could fell a dragon.’ Since the kitchen’s manpower has decreased, he says meat dishes are off the menu for a while.”

“Wait, excuse me? What on earth did he train my daughter to do? No one will want to marry her now.”

As Morgan spoke while pouring the tea, Heidemarie raked her silver hair back with an annoyed expression.

The momentary tension in her brow and upper lip seemed to show genuine displeasure, yet her cat-like eyes—with pupils slightly dilated—suggested she found the situation entertaining.

In truth, Heidemarie’s expressions were often the only ones Morgan struggled to decipher.

That, too, was part of her charm.

“…Well, whatever.”

Heidemarie accepted the tea with a word of thanks and inhaled its fragrance deeply.

“That is exactly why she had to leave the nest. The more difficult the task, the more motivated that girl will be.”

“Task?”

Gilbert, who had been glaring at the chessboard opposite her, tilted his head slightly.

Heidemarie took a sip from her cup and smiled quietly.

“Yes. I told her: ‘Go see the world and find out what a “normal girl” is like. And until you figure that out, you aren’t allowed to come home’.”

Her breath stirred the amber tea, sending faint, slow ripples across the surface.