It was a code phrase used by those trading drugs, including Chateau, to identify each other.
Of course, there were additional necessary procedures for verifying identities beyond the code, but the further out in the territories, the looser the security tended to be.
‘I didn’t think I’d end up using it like this.’
It was one of the few pieces of information Mia had learned in her past life while investigating drugs.
As expected, the owner’s attitude noticeably softened upon hearing Mia’s words.
“May we have... eternal blessings.”
Perhaps he assumed she was a noble hiding her identity. Stumbling over his words, he recited the code phrase and led Mia deep into the warehouse.
Mia followed him, memorizing the warehouse’s layout as she walked.
In the farthest corner, liquor bottles identical to those from a recent banquet were stacked high enough to fill an entire wall. When Mia moved closer to inspect them, the owner nervously stepped aside.
“Here they are. Take what you need and mark it as wine in the ledger...”
“Is this the unit price?”
Mia brushed aside the ledger he offered.
“Y-yes! This is all the Chateau in the territory.”
Mia fixed him with a piercing stare before speaking. Every syllable dripped with unspoken accusation: I don’t trust you.
She circled the warehouse twice as if hunting for hidden stock. Though suspicious, it seemed this was truly all they had.
‘Then the baron must be hoarding something.’
Mia’s brow furrowed. Everyone here reeks of deceit.
“Thanks.”
The curt reply held no gratitude.
The owner’s final memory was Mia’s retreating back. A dull impact crashed against his skull. Before darkness took him, a flash of crimson filled his vision.
Mia shoved bottles of Chateau beneath her coat and locked the warehouse behind her.
‘If I were better with divine power, I could’ve sealed this permanently.’
She slipped out through the shop’s rear. Aside from her bulging coat, no trace remained of her visit.
When Mia returned, Leonard still endured the mob’s wrath. Etienne excelled as a distraction, his presence magnetizing all attention. Thanks to him, she’d escaped unnoticed.
Mia marveled at her legion commander’s crowd-drawing prowess. She’d assumed it was mere handsomeness, but even masked, he commanded focus effortlessly.
Though opposite to her own methods, Etienne Rochefort’s charismatic pull was undeniable.
Their tavern exit proved smooth. Despite Etienne’s complaints about “the difficulty of evading eyes,” he seemed utterly unbothered.
Their playful bickering continued, neither caring about Leonard’s fate. Divine power users wouldn’t fall to commoners’ blows.
Still, if this spread through their unit, the disgrace would haunt him forever. He’d take this secret to his grave.
The winter night bit sharply.
“Ellie. Aren’t you cold?”
“Ah... I’m fine.”
Etienne shielded her with his cloak, engulfing her small frame. Mia focused on hiding her lumpy coat beneath it, oblivious to his gesture.
He studied her intently.
“Was theft your goal in requesting my help?”
“...Well.”
Technically true. Mia gave a half-hearted nod.
“The legion has ample funds. This was unnecessary trouble.”
“Do I look like I need money?”
Her sharp retort silenced his teasing.
“That’s not what I meant...” Etienne’s gaze sharpened as he peered at her rustling coat. “Mia... is that—”
“You know what it is.”
“...I truly don’t.”
After waiting for meaningful insight only to get nonsense, Mia straightened her clothes. Am I becoming foolish by acting foolish?
“So? What is it?”
“You’ll know when the time comes.”
Etienne nodded without question. Mia found his compliance baffling.
The “lovers” walked side by side through dark streets.
“Max.”
“Yes, darling?”
“I never permitted that nickname.”
“Haha, my apologies. What is it?”
“You brought Black?”
The abrupt question hung in the air.
Etienne’s pale eyes glinted mischievously in the dark.
“Naturally. Care to spar?”
“I found an abandoned clearing today.”
A secluded path welcomed them. Their footsteps gradually synchronized.
It was peaceful—not joyful, but far from miserable. For wartime, this counted as remarkable.
They stopped only when a timid voice called:
“Excuse me... You’re soldiers.”
Not a question. Their incomplete disguises had risks, but few decent folk wandered streets this late.
Mia’s spine chilled. She turned slowly, praying this wouldn’t turn bloody.
Hah!
She barely stifled a gasp. Their interrupter was him.
The man who’d plunged Etalloon troops into chaos, sabotaged her strategies, and branded himself as the first terror in the arrogant 1st Holy Legion’s psyche—
C.C.
As irrational fear threatened to paralyze her again, familiar warmth touched her hand.
“Max...”
The hastily invented nickname became her lifeline. Pressure on their clasped hands grounded her. Etienne’s here. Whole. At the heart of the glory I’ll win for him.
This lifetime differed profoundly. Etienne played her lover for victory. C.C. hadn’t yet shown hostility—perhaps hadn’t even entered the temple.
There was still hope. The Goddess’ mercy granted even failure-ridden Mia this glorious chance. The thought ignited unprecedented courage.
After a steadying breath, Mia turned.
“State your business.”
Her authoritative tone betrayed no fear.
Jet-black hair, downturned eyes. A soft face. Faded clothes slightly too fine for a commoner. Nothing resembled the shadow-woman who’d haunted Etalloon’s forces.
This girl lacked all confidence, trembling visibly as she spoke. To Mia, versed in dealing with desperate schemers, this seemed no act—genuine terror.
Why did I ever fear her? Mia nearly laughed at her past self.
She sighed. However bitter their past connection, tormenting a clueless child served no purpose.
“Speak.”
The girl took a shuddering breath. Flawless imperial tongue emerged:
“I-I’m Chloé Gallois. Nineteen.”
Red-rimmed eyes, quivering throat. Her ragged breathing suggested imminent tears. To this frightened girl, confronting soldiers must be overwhelming.
“Calm down. Speak slowly.”
