Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Josée rode in Serge’s carriage, heading back toward the city.
The sky had cleared, and with her new title and shifting circumstances, Josée’s heart felt just as light and open. For the first time in a long while, the future didn’t seem so bleak.
“We’ll have to find a new candidate for that district,” Serge muttered, half to himself, eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the window.
“My, Serge, already talking politics again?” Josée teased, tilting her head with a playful smile.
“When you’re in a party, that’s simply the first thing to consider,” he replied coolly. “The usual move is to nominate a relative.”
“You mean a hereditary representative.”
“Maurice-dono has three daughters. The eldest is married to Enzo-sama, but after what just happened…”
“If we give the other parties time to move, the Radical Party needs to act fast. Better we make the first move.”
“Exactly. If we fumble this, we might end up having to support someone from the Royalist Faction.”
Josée tilted her head. “But aren’t the Weeds Faction and the Royalists part of the same party? Why would that be a problem?”
“That’s the tricky part,” Serge sighed. “Remember what we said earlier—how the political world is rotten?”
“Yes…”
“The more scandals get dragged into the light, the more public support shifts to the Royalists. If that keeps snowballing… this country could slide right back into monarchy. Parliament would become obsolete.”
Josée blinked in disbelief. “You really think that could happen? That the royal family might take back full political control?”
“Well, even now, there’s the advisory committee system. The restrictions are loose enough that you could argue the royals still hold political power behind the scenes.”
The conversation paused, trailing into silence.
Then Serge spoke again, his tone a little more serious.
“Now that you’re officially a party member, I can finally tell you this.”
Josée looked at him curiously.
“In the Radical Party… you shouldn’t trust anyone but me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh my, bit possessive, aren’t we?”
Serge gave a faint, bitter smile, almost sad. “…If that’s how you want to see it, fine. But I mean it. I’m genuinely worried about you. I’m giving you honest advice. The party isn’t unified. You and I—we could be betrayed at any moment.”
Josée felt a twinge of embarrassment. Her teasing had missed the mark. Maybe she’d grown a bit too comfortable, too quickly.
Serge went on.
“Josée, I’m certain you’re going to make it big someday. But when that happens, there’ll come a time when you suddenly find yourself unable to trust anyone. I’ve won several elections, and even now, I’m constantly paranoid. The more people praise you, the harder it becomes to know which of them is sincere. And since you don’t have any blood ties to fall back on, it’s even easier to lose your way. Being a representative is mostly about dragging each other down. That’s why it’s crucial to have someone you can trust by your side. So, my conclusion is this: Just trust me. If you die because of some mistake, I’ll be the one stuck paying reparations to the next lord of Château Fournier.”
Josée chuckled. “Oh? So that’s what it all comes down to?”
“Hmph. What else would it be?”
Though his words were dry, Serge’s face relaxed into a smile.
“All I’ve seen in this world are bribes and backstabbing. But we, the ones with potential—we have to change that. The party, the country… it’s up to us. We who are sincere, who are driven, who actually have a future—”
“Is that a bit of self-praise I hear?”
They both laughed, the tension lifting for a moment.
But then, without warning, a strange emptiness bloomed in Josée’s chest.
She had never felt this kind of warmth before—not with anyone.
(...No. This won’t do.)
Josée shook her head, forcing the feeling down. She couldn’t let herself get too comfortable… not here, not now.
(When the day comes that I earn favor with this country’s king… I’ll take the king’s head. I’ll avenge the people of Sarana.)
She had grown her brothel, expanded her network, and now even had a foothold in politics. But her true goal lay far beyond any of that—the complete destruction of Tranlene. A path that directly opposed everything Serge believed in.
And when she finally reached that goal… the man sitting beside her might be the one to pay the price.
Only now did she begin to feel afraid of that possibility.
The carriage rocked gently along the road. Serge, sitting beside her, had drifted off to sleep. He hadn’t slept much the night before—of course he was tired.
Josée glanced at him, his face relaxed in slumber.
(He really does trust me…)
A pang of guilt struck her chest.
***
At that very moment—
The presses at a newspaper company were churning out stories, sensationalizing the incident at the Radical Party headquarters. The evening editions were filled with headlines screaming the same scandal.
Even the royal palace, now gilded in the soft hues of twilight, received a copy.
Once again, the curtain of the capital’s social theater was rising.
Carriages arrived one after another. Noble families spilled out, and finely dressed young women were swept up in the tide, disappearing into the palace halls.
From a high balcony, King Alban II of Tranlene looked down upon the scene. A butler approached him, offering the freshly printed newspaper.
Alban II—just thirty-two—was a young monarch, with golden hair inherited from his mother and piercing blue eyes. Clad in splendid finery, he was known among the people as “the Beautiful King.”
“Hm… So the one who resolved the incident was a sixteen-year-old courtesan from the Radical Party?”
He read the article in full, then gave a quiet order to his butler.
“Bring this courtesan to the next underworld gathering. I have a feeling she’ll have quite the story to tell.”