Once again, Miss Fíliya found herself trapped at a banquet she had absolutely no patience for.
And this one was different from the last.
The previous dinner had been a relatively casual, free-flowing affair. Tonight's event, at least in name, was something far more formal — an official [Victory Banquet].
[In cooperation with the Continental Magic Association, the rebellion instigated by Shadow Warrior Commander Levi has been successfully suppressed.]
Under that banner, the Emperor had convened this ceremony to formally bestow honors upon those who had distinguished themselves.
The Emperor himself had not yet arrived, so the atmosphere had yet to turn truly stiff, and Fíliya allowed herself a rare moment of slack — a brief, conscious loosening of the tension she had been holding.
Because in truth, her nerves were wound to an almost unbearable pitch. She had run through the plan a hundred times in her head, but now that the moment of execution was actually approaching, her heart refused to stop trembling.
"Hoo..."
She exhaled slowly, drawing several long, deliberate breaths before finally lifting her head to survey the room.
Frieren was exactly as she always was — utterly detached, as though none of this had anything to do with her, having already slipped into babysitter mode. She was chatting away with Fern, Stark, and... wait.
Fíliya blinked.
When had Frieren's party picked up another person? She hadn't gone to see Frieren in the past few days, but how had the woman's group suddenly grown to four?
...Now that I think about it, she did mention something about having a monk in her party. Whatever. Not my concern.
Fíliya gave her head a small shake and looked elsewhere.
It was then that a familiar face drifted over, offering a polite greeting to Fíliya and her companions.
"Lady Fíliya, and Lady Frieren, Lady Serie."
Fíliya looked over. It was that old man, Denken.
"Denken, huh... As a local, isn't your timing a little late? All the interesting parts are already over. There's no role left for you to play."
Fíliya delivered the jab in a cheerfully teasing tone.
"So it would seem. I am genuinely sorry I couldn't be of more help — I was taken into custody before you all even arrived in the Empire."
Denken said it with a faint, apologetic look on his face.
"Is that so... No wonder I hadn't seen you. And here I was thinking I'd make you take me out to dinner."
Fíliya laughed.
"It would be my absolute pleasure. I've been reinstated to my former position — if Lady Fíliya would honor me with her presence, I am available tomorrow or the day after."
Denken said this with complete sincerity.
"Hmm... I'll pass. I have zero interest in having dinner with an old man."
Fíliya wrinkled her nose with exaggerated disdain.
Denken, unbothered, simply turned and struck up a conversation with someone else nearby.
Once he had wandered off, Fíliya found herself at loose ends again. She began scanning the banquet hall with deliberate purpose.
What a shame. The star-crossed pair is nowhere to be seen. If those two were here, I could have gone over and teased them a little — it might have lightened my mood considerably.
But of course they weren't. The Shadow Warriors were nominally traitors and rebels now. Even if the Emperor himself had quietly kept them alive behind the scenes, recognizing their combat value, they could hardly afford to be seen standing in the light.
Unable to find any amusement, the restless Miss Fíliya let her gaze wander aimlessly until it finally settled on Solitär.
She looked at her with an expression that could only be described as seeking comfort — and Solitär, reading her perfectly, reached out and took her hand.
"It's still not too late to turn back... You really don't have to go this far."
Solitär kept her voice low, her tone soft and gentle.
Fíliya said nothing. She simply shook her head, slowly and quietly.
By rights, there was one other person she could have talked to. But she didn't dare. Ever since that day, she had not once allowed herself to be alone with Sense.
Hoo...
Then I'll just wait for the moment to come.
With that thought settled in her chest, Fíliya folded her hands in her lap and sat perfectly still in her seat.
Time passed.
Then, at last, the Emperor himself made his entrance — resplendent in formal robes, a gleaming crown upon his head. The instant Fíliya laid eyes on him, something crystallized inside her. Her expression went still and flat, and she raised her chin.
Whatever hesitation she had felt before the decision was made — none of that mattered anymore. Once Fíliya committed to something, she saw it through to the very end.
The Emperor ascended to the ornately decorated central throne of the banquet hall. After a few customary, ceremonial pleasantries, the proceedings moved smoothly into the awards ceremony itself.
Serie, naturally, had no interest in any of this. For someone of her standing, accepting a reward from an Emperor was closer to an insult than an honor — she had already worked out her own arrangement with him in private, so she sat there wearing an expression of perfect, serene indifference.
As for Frieren, she couldn't be bothered playing the role of a hero either, so she had handed the task of accepting rewards and making public appearances entirely to Fern.
Before long, the Emperor's voice called out Fíliya's name.
Fíliya rose from her seat and, with her three demon companions in tow, walked slowly toward the imperial throne.
Of course, all three of them — Solitär included — had presented themselves in human form.
When Fíliya and her group came to a halt a few meters before the Emperor's seat, they lowered themselves as one onto a single knee before the sovereign of the human Empire, adopting a posture of humble deference as they prepared to receive their commendation.
The sight puzzled quite a few people who knew Fíliya.
After all — this was the woman who had kicked the Emperor squarely in the back not long ago. The woman who had spoken to him with open arrogance, as though he were beneath her consideration. And now, in this very moment, she was the picture of meek compliance?
Is she actually capable of reading the room? The banquet hall was packed with every titled noble and high-ranking official the Empire had to offer. Countless pairs of eyes were fixed on her right now.
But whatever others were thinking — what Fíliya wanted was exactly this moment.
"Lady Fíliya is without question the greatest contributor to this entire affair. Though you are not a citizen of the Empire, We nonetheless hope you will accept this."
The Emperor spoke, gesturing for an attendant to present a precious, jewel-inlaid gift box before Fíliya.
Fíliya lifted the lid and glanced at the contents.
Inside sat a medal — the kind that looked expensive just by existing.
"This is the Empire's Medal of Honor. Rest assured, accepting this will bring you no inconvenience whatsoever, Lady Fíliya. It carries no obligations — it is simply a symbol of the Empire's friendship and trust. This medal is proof that you are a hero recognized by the Empire itself."
The Emperor offered the explanation in his characteristic measured tone.
And for once, Fíliya did not reach for a quip. She accepted the medal with genuine, unhurried solemnity.
"Now then — is there anything Lady Fíliya would like to request as a reward? Given your contribution on this occasion, We will endeavor to fulfill any wish you name."
The Emperor continued.
"There is indeed one matter I would humbly ask Your Majesty to grant."
Fíliya slowly raised her head. The smile on her face was the kind that looked perfectly harmless — guileless, even. She didn't so much as glance at Fres, who stood at the Emperor's side.
"By all means. Speak freely."
The Emperor even gestured for Fíliya to step a little closer, as a gesture of trust toward this honored hero.
Fíliya took the invitation without a moment's hesitation and closed the distance to precisely the range she wanted.
"What I want is—"
The instant those two words left her lips, Fíliya's body exploded into motion.
In the fraction of a second before anyone in the hall could process what was happening, she drove a golden dagger straight through the Emperor's heart.
"—!"
Fres's blade arrived at Fíliya's throat in an instant — but it never came down.
A violent pressure, like a wall of wind given physical form, smashed both the sword and Fres herself away. Then a surge of jet-black radiance erupted outward, swallowing Fíliya's entire group — and the Emperor — within its dark embrace.
The second attack to arrive came from Sense — strands of her hair lashing out like needles, clearly aimed at stopping Fíliya.
The reason her reaction had been faster than even Serie's or Frieren's was simple: she was the only person in that hall whose attention had been locked, without a single moment's lapse, entirely on Fíliya.
But even so, she was too late. The hair struck the surface of the black curtain of light and held there, powerless — unable to pierce a single millimeter further.
Fíliya's timing had been flawless. There was simply no one in that room who had been able to react.
Not one person had imagined it — that the young woman hailed as a hero just one second ago would, in the very next second, attempt to assassinate the Emperor himself.
Sense turned her eyes to Serie, her gaze edged with something close to desperation, silently willing the goddess to intervene and undo this.
But Serie's brow was furrowed deep — because even she could not see through the black light to determine what was happening inside.
Neither she nor Frieren could find any angle to act.
And so the banquet hall collapsed into a kind of surreal, suspended silence. Every soul present could do nothing but stare at that curtain of black.
Fortunately, it did not last long.
When the black light finally faded... Fíliya and her companions had vanished without a trace.
The good news — the Emperor was unharmed. The wound that had pierced his heart had been healed by some unknown force, and he now stood before them in perfect condition.
The bad news — sprouting from the top of the Emperor's head were two... unmistakably prominent, unmistakably demonic horns.
____
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