CH1034 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1034: Subtle Hints at the Ceremony

The celebration ran from noon through evening.

In the central square, enormous pots sat over open fires, the air above them thick with the aroma of spiced broth. A dense layer of oil glazed the surface of each pot — rich with chili and fat and the promise of something hot. Anyone could walk up and add what they liked, eat what they wanted, and the crowd did, in waves. Some hauled jars and barrels to carry portions home and savor later. Each time City Hall workers added chopped beef bones or sausages, the crowd bellowed its approval.

In the Months of Demons, in winters past, people had not lived like this.

Cold had meant rationing, stillness, the held breath of a season that could kill. But now the snow drifted down from a pale sky and the people watched it the way you watch something that has lost its power over you. There was food. There was heat. They raised their cups to the new king and meant it.


Inside the castle hall, the mood ran just as warm.

Sylvie turned from the crowd and surveyed the room.

Good food, wine, music, laughter — everything became louder when Roland and Anna entered in their wedding attire. Anna’s gown was unlike anything Sylvie had expected: not white, not simple. A sweeping red-and-gold dress with long sleeves and a full skirt, the shoulders ornamented with layered ribbons of intricate pattern. Not many people could carry that particular brightness. Anna carried it entirely — it made her look precisely like what she was.

Everyone raised glasses. Roland and Anna returned the gesture together.

A perfect party.

Sylvie was barely holding herself together.

She had noticed something strange at the ceremony. The Eye of Magic was not decoration — it was an obligation, and today that obligation meant complete vigilance around the king. She had been careful from the first moment. And in her carefulness she had begun to collect fragments.

Each one was nothing in isolation. Together they formed a shape she couldn’t name.

This reminded her of a song Roland sometimes hummed — lyrics she had memorized by accident: a walking stick blackened, a strong floral scent softened… many jigsaw puzzles that might not make sense to you, would eventually lead you to the discovery of a truth well hidden. Mystery Moon had made it the Detective Group’s anthem after hearing it once.

The present situation was exactly that. Fragments. A pattern.

She had said nothing. Should have warned Nightingale and Ashes already. Instead — silence. Because two days ago Anna had said something that had not made sense at the time: “The person who keeps the secret is always the one who knows it. I need your help, Sylvie.”

She had not understood it. She had filed it.

Now, watching the hall, she understood. The last piece had clicked into place.

She had found the secret. And now the weight of it pressed on her chest like a stone, because keeping it was not passive — it required active management. She had to prevent anyone else from finding it too.

And someone already might be close.

“Achoo!”

Lorgar rubbed her nose, looking around with suspicion.

“What’s wrong?” Andrea asked. “Wolves catch colds?”

“Something has been off since this morning.” Lorgar sniffed. “The scents in this room don’t match the number of people I can see.”

“Don’t match?” Ashes cut in. “You can actually tell people apart by smell?”

“As long as they aren’t too far apart, and a strong perfume isn’t drowning everything out — yes.” Lorgar’s ears drooped. “Nobody is moving, but some scents keep appearing and disappearing. Why?”

“There are nearly a hundred people in this hall,” Andrea said, hovering between skepticism and amusement. “Even with your nose, you can’t catalog every one. They touch each other, wear perfume — like this.” She pressed her drumstick-greasy hand to the back of Ashes’ hand. “Now I carry her scent. Can you still tell us apart?”

“It’s harder… but I can tell whether a specific person is present or absent.” Lorgar tilted her head. “The ones who keep disappearing — that’s what I don’t understand.”

“Ahem.”

Sylvie appeared at the edge of their group, expression casual, hands loose.

“Sylvie?” Andrea raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t see you approach.”

“Walking around. Overheard you.” She shrugged and looked at Lorgar. “You’re probably sick. The desert climate is nothing like the Western Region. Your first winter here — your body hasn’t adjusted, and it affects the nose especially. I had the same issue my first season.” A pause. “Try Lily’s Cleansing Water. It helped me.”

“Really?” Lorgar’s ears lifted slightly. “That would explain it.”

Sylvie walked away, her pulse easing marginally.

Lorgar’s hearing and smell were both sharper than any ordinary person’s — sharper than most witches’, in fact. She had an animal’s instinct layered beneath a witch’s power. That combination required constant management.

She had managed it. For now.

Next target.

“Coo, coo coo, coo coo — coo!” Perched on Lightning’s head, Maggie was delivering what appeared to be an impassioned account of something to Joan.

“Ya — ya ya, yaa!” Joan responded with equal conviction.

Sylvie pressed a hand to her forehead. Whatever they had detected, they would never explain it in terms anyone could act on, and no one could deduce anything coherent from their exchange. She moved on.

Her third target was the hardest.

It was Honey.

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