With that in mind, Charles nodded slightly, a faint, cunning smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Perfect, that’s exactly the effect I was going for!"

He took a deep breath and continued, "I can’t make a public appearance myself. Sephera, I want you to handle this—let the reporters in the Muse District know, quietly, that I made a targeted effort to protect some of the dancers back then. Then, have them come to South Harbor District and hunt me down for an interview."

As he finished, his smile revealed a distinct trace of ruthlessness. "They want to confront me for those girls? Fine, but let them think about whether they can handle the blowback first!"

Sephera nodded vigorously, catching the mood from her master and growing excited herself.

But then, another worry crept up on her. "But after that... Master, if you actually get interviewed, how will you handle it? No matter how you dodge their questions, the fallout could still hurt your reputation..."

"After all, you’re basically a noble now. If the reporters see you stonewalling, they might just turn around and try to smear you instead..."

Charles heard her out, pondered for a moment, then said, "Simple: I just won’t accept any interviews. How about that?"

Sephera nodded. "That works, but—what reason will you give them?"

Charles fell silent for a moment, then suddenly had an idea. "I’ll just use the same excuse as before and say I’m busy investigating the demon threat."

"Those guys are just mouthpieces for the conglomerates. All they care about is blowing up noble scandals—they’re not really interested in the demons or the cultists who actually got dealt with."

"Exactly, so just tell them I’m focused on the investigation and don’t have time for these tabloid rumor interviews!"

Sephera’s eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly. "Alright! In that case, leave the reporters to me, Master. You just operate in the shadows and wait for my update!"

...

Mithral District, Amcastra household, in the study.

Grant Amcastra, the current Minister of Transport, was seated comfortably with a newspaper in hand. Next to him, Anno lounged in her casual homewear, lips pouting, with a look of discontent on her face.

She was understandably upset. That night when she’d been woken up, she thought Charles was under attack or facing some major threat, and she’d genuinely worried for him.

It was only later that she found out the "art event" he went to was, on the surface, about the arts—while in truth...

Even knowing he had foiled a massive conspiracy possibly linked to archdevils, it still bugged Anno that her boyfriend had gotten mixed up in such things.

But while she stewed over her petty grievances, her father was clearly focused on something else. "Charles, that kid... who would’ve expected he’d be so level-headed..."

Anno pouted, "Level-headed? If he was so ’sensible,’ would he have gone to a place like that?"

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got—she couldn’t help but kick the chair leg under her in silent protest.

Grant chuckled. "He was making connections. And in the end, it’s not like he got up to any real trouble, right?"

He passed the newspaper to Anno. "The important part is, he acted fast and made sure all those girls were kept under wraps."

"That way, all the accusations against the young nobles—about debauchery and excess—are nothing but rumors. There’s no proof, so our noble reputation survives, and our power stays intact under pressure."

He sighed. "All my old friends should be thanking him, but sometimes these old guys just don’t see the bigger picture—they’re still pressuring him to hand those girls over."

"Honestly, if things go south, the fallout’s not only on him..."

Anno just hung her head, saying nothing. Suddenly, a weird doubt flickered through her mind.

Was Charles really doing this for the nobles’ reputation and power?

Or did he... have another motive?

She felt like things weren’t as simple as her father thought. She kind of wanted to go ask Charles directly.

But the moment she thought of what he’d done that night, her expression fell again—she was too annoyed to seek him out and talk.

Grant watched her sulk, then grinned. "Hey, if you’re mad, just use this as an excuse to give him a little penalty or make him buy you a present!"

"It’s not like you’d really dump him—this is the perfect excuse for you to take a little control, girl!"

Anno rolled her eyes, just about to say she had no interest—but as she opened her mouth, a spark of insight struck her.

Wait a minute... all those times my mother, aunts, and sisters exploded in rage or burst into tears over the Amazons—was it all just a ploy to jockey for power in the family?

...

At Bernard Voulet’s villa.

"Knew I was right about him!"

In the study, Bernard’s father—a stout, white-haired old man—held the newspaper and exclaimed, "Lord Charles... just this whole affair proves it: he really is promising!"

"He thinks faster than any of us. The night it all went down, he had all those girls under control, wouldn’t let the reporters near them, took care of everything without a single leak."

He sighed, while Bernard, beside him, beamed. "That just means you’re a good judge of character, Father. While everyone else was still upset and trying to drag him down, you were already building closer ties!"

He was in a good mood himself: after this incident, he could feel his standing slowly rising in both his family and his father’s eyes.

From his chair, Bernard’s father burst out laughing at the flattery.

"All in all, this was a good thing," he concluded. "Just don’t let their family’s mess end up dragging us down with them!"

...

At William’s residence, the burly Sports Minister sat on a living room couch, cigarette in hand and brows deeply furrowed.

Beside him, his plump wife hugged his arm, sobbing. "My lord, William was such a good, proper child... You saw it with your own eyes—you must make those murderers pay in blood!"

The man blew out a ring of smoke, his eyes growing steely. "Let’s hope that Lord Charles knows what’s good for him. If he sacrifices law for his cheap sympathy and shields these murderers—there will be consequences!"

...

House Cassalanter

"Try to get control of Charles?"

In a concealed chamber, staring at the massive fiend in the mirror, Ammalia Cassalanter looked unnerved. "What...? The previous mess hasn’t even cleared, and we’re already...?"

After all, the accident happened at her theater, so the situation was extremely unfavorable for them, both in terms of public opinion and the intricate web of noble politics.

Right now, she could barely take a step without hitting a wall. Although Mephistopheles had granted her immense power, it didn’t mean she’d instantly gained the brainpower or resources to handle every problem—not to mention losing Xanathar, her "black-gloved" hand, made her even more short on cards to play.

Each time she thought about it, her resentment toward Charles only grew. She wanted revenge ASAP, but real life wouldn’t allow it.

In the mirror, Mephistopheles spoke at last. "But he’s crucial—he’s tied to why the plan failed that night, who really set that fire, and the true reason Regolas died."

He didn’t mention Regolas’s soul being erased, and continued, "So I hope you’ll think of a way to lure him here. I want to study him closely."

Ammalia Cassalanter fell into deep thought. "Bringing him here shouldn’t be too hard. On the surface, we’re not enemies, and he doesn’t know about my ties with Regolas or Xanathar’s Guild. But we’re not exactly close, either..."

She organized her thoughts, then suddenly her eyes lit up. "I’ve got it! I’ll invite him over under the guise of gratitude!"

Mephistopheles looked down at her with mild interest. "What do you have in mind?"

Ammalia Cassalanter went on. "After that night, he brought a bunch of possibly-involved dancers back to his monastery. Lots of nobles are unhappy, think he’s shielding criminals. But lots of others actually appreciate it—since, without those key witnesses, the major scandals and accusations lack evidence."

"I’ll use that as my angle. I’ll thank him for protecting these critical witnesses and invite him over for dinner—then propose further cooperation..."

~~~

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