KFBRV Ch 11

Zion Reinhardt von Kleist. Head of the Intelligence Department and an S-class Transcendent. He was a man of chilling aesthetics, possessing silver hair and piercing violet eyes.

Known for his ruthless personality, cruel efficiency, and status as a master of interrogation, he was the classic "cold on the outside, warm only to his woman" archetype from the reverse harem game.

As Odette organized these facts in her mind, she took a sip of the warm tea provided in the drawing room. She hoped the heat would seep into her body, which had grown cold from her damp dress.

He glared at her.

[Zion] "Are you aware that the Crown Prince nearly went into a rampage because of your schemes? If Charlotte hadn't pleaded for you, I would have taken great care in severing your limbs one by one."

Compared to the vivid, horrific memories of her past life, she found Zion's current gaze—filled only with irritation—to be almost welcoming. Because of that, she was able to savor the flavor of the tea without a single tremor in her hands.

He lit a cigar.

[Zion] "I suppose I should thank you for saving His Highness, Albrecht."

His gratitude was as sour and ill-mannered as his introduction. He exhaled a cloud of smoke before asking another question.

[Zion] "But did you find it necessary to arrive at the Imperial Palace looking so... filthy?"

Through his monocle, the Marquis' violet eyes swept over her attire. Her dress was a mess, tangled with spiderwebs and stained with blood from her escape through the secret passage.

Odette remained unfazed by his look of disgust.

Even if I had arrived in my usual doll-like finery, he would have worn that same expression.

To him, her clothing was never the issue. He had always treated her like filth, regardless of her appearance.

[Odette] "It is quite embarrassing to have my attire criticized by a gentleman, Your Excellency."

Of course, she felt no shame at all. In her past life, she had been seen in far worse conditions while on the run. This was merely a pointed retort, carrying the subtext that a true gentleman would never mention a lady's disheveled state.

He caught the underlying jab and let out a dry laugh through the smoke.

[Zion] "How surprising. To think Lady Albrecht actually possessed a sense of shame."

He bit down on his cigar irritably before tossing a bundle of documents onto the tea table. They were the papers she had sent through Lize.

[Zion] "Does a person with a sense of shame send human trafficking contracts in broad daylight? Are you not embarrassed by the fact that you are nothing more than trash profiting from crime?"

[Odette] "..."

[Zion] "Ah, was this a boast? A way to show that no one uses their immunity privileges as... resourcefully as you do?"

He crushed his cigar into the ashtray with an annoyed flick of his wrist. He then stretched his long legs out, resting them atop the glass table.

It was a talent of his—making such a boorish action look languid and elegant. He acted like a rogue, yet his aura remained distinctly aristocratic, a gap that inspired a strange sense of dread.

She realized his personality was perfectly suited for interrogation. To a commoner, he appeared overbearing; to a noble, he seemed like a sophisticated delinquent.

[Zion] "Your request for a private audience was also incredibly arrogant. Claims of a bribed spy? You must think I am a very idle man if you believe you can bait me with such pathetic lies."

[Odette] "Despite your thoughts, Your Excellency still granted my arrogant request. That is enough for me."

When she maintained her calm smile, his brow furrowed.

[Odette] "Since you are a busy man, it is best we get straight to the point. I would like to review the documents with you to discuss the spy. Would that be acceptable?"

As she set down her teacup and sought his permission, Zion escalated the pressure. He used his foot to kick the bundle of documents off the table, sending them scattering across the floor.

[Zion] "By all means, Lady Albrecht. Do as you wish."

His words were drenched in mockery.

What a charming personality.

Odette thought with a silent sigh as she began to pick up the papers scattered beneath the table.

Even a person without prejudice would find it hard to maintain a good attitude after reading a daily list of unspeakable evils. Zion surely felt the same. However, she had no reason to be shaken by his overbearing attitude.

Does he think acting like a thug will make me cower?

Instead, Odette behaved even more like a refined aristocrat. She sent him a warning look, as if reprimanding an uneducated subordinate. Her movements as she gathered the papers one by one were exceedingly graceful and composed.

However, he poured another stack of letters over her head as she leaned down.

[Zion] "Since you seem to enjoy picking things up, I thought I'd return the letters you sent as well."

This absolute bastard.

She gritted her teeth. Getting angry now would prevent her from reaching her goal. Maintaining her composure, she gathered the fallen letters and smoothed them out.

What elegant, sophisticated handwriting.

The letters she supposedly sent were filled with astronomical figures. Costs for dresses, jewelry, fine horses, the installation of a fountain at the mansion, and even her brother Ferdinand's bar tabs and gambling debts. They were all invoices for luxury.

After organizing everything neatly, she handed them back to Zion.

[Odette] "How much information have you actually received regarding me, Your Excellency?"

[Zion] "You might as well ask me to count the grains of sand in the Erwin Desert. There is nothing I don't know about you."

He sneered, his eyes filled with loathing.

In her past life, he had cut her down with words just like those.

[Zion] "It's a relief you've stayed quiet until now. If you had offered some stupid excuse, I wouldn't have been able to contain myself."

She swallowed the humiliation from her past life.

No matter how I feel about him, I must stay in his good graces.

That was the only way to begin her revenge against her family.

The oppressive aura of hatred grew thicker, but she maintained a faint smile to appease him.

[Odette] "Then, has anyone reported to you the fact that I am illiterate?"

Her fear, resentment, and sorrow did not matter. Her emotions were worthless. They always had been.

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Violet eyes scanned the woman sitting across from him with irritation.

She was hailed as the greatest beauty in society, often compared to a fairy. But to him, that meant nothing.

Still, that sickeningly artificial scent of roses.

He felt nothing for Odette but disgust. And it wasn't just her scent that was sickening; her conduct was enough to make anyone nauseous.

It was his duty as the Emperor's hound to track where her identification was being used, and it only ever appeared in the filthiest places.

Kidnapping rings, slave trade dens, gambling halls, and illegal drug labs. Because these were crimes that required a certain level of experience—unusual for a young woman—he had sent nine different spies to verify the facts.

The results were always the same: Odette was a pinnacle of human filth.

The documents she sent today were nothing new. He had confirmed their contents long ago through his spies' reports.

Quite impressive for someone so young.

Then again, the talent for crime was often born from innate shamelessness. It would be foolish to assume her malice was immature just because of her age.

He mentally reviewed her file.

Born with a weak constitution at a villa in Meursault. The pampered, late-born daughter of a Count. She had returned to the Albrecht Fief at age six and had been acting like a tyrant ever since. Now, her hobby was bleeding the Imperial Family dry to fill her wardrobe and jewelry vault.

The Count's reputation isn't bad, but his child-rearing was a total failure.

[Count] "My daughter demanded twenty diamond mines for a single purification. I tried to persuade her, but she was adamant."

Because of her ridiculous demands, S-class awakeners refused to ask for purification regardless of their corruption levels. They endured it using suppressants. But the Crown Prince had been so badly injured that he nearly lost control.

Why did she suddenly purify the Crown Prince? Even without the cost, she smells so foul that most wouldn't want to be near her.

He hadn't intended to grant her request for a meeting. But since she had correctly identified the exact number of spies planted in her household, he couldn't ignore her. He had thought she was a woman interested only in luxury and pleasure.

[Odette] "Then, has anyone reported to you the fact that I am illiterate?"

But for her to say something so absurd.

I thought I was used to the bottom of human nature, but she is a genius at getting under one's skin.

[Zion] "Do you even know how many invoices you've sent? The entire Intelligence Department has memorized your signature and handwriting, and yet you claim to be illiterate? I see you've inherited your brother's habit of lying through your teeth whenever you're in a corner."

Emotional control was a basic requirement for the Intelligence Department. Even knowing that, it was useless in front of this woman. His anger slipped, mixing with his aura to release a staggering amount of pressure.

Yet, the woman remained smiling as if she felt nothing.

[Odette] "The handwriting belongs to Mrs. Becker, my mother's maid."

[Zion] "What?"

[Odette] "I truly cannot read a single word."

Setting down her letter, she gracefully picked up her teacup.

Her pronunciation and poise were flawless. With her pinky slightly curled and her movements so smooth they didn't even make a clink, she spoke with the perfect mannerisms of the ruling class.

[Zion] "Ha... what kind of ridiculous joke is this?"

The language of Barzeha used an alphabet with very few irregularities and simple grammar. Even commoners were rarely illiterate.

The Marquis, who had been laughing mockingly through his cigar smoke, suddenly stopped.

The woman had placed a recording stone on the glass table.

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