I found myself in Julius’s room the following morning, sunlight—well, artificial sunlight created through elaborate illusion magic that Julius had somehow convinced to behave like the real thing—streaming through windows that shouldn’t exist and painting everything in warm golden tones that made the space feel almost sacred.

The room itself was a love letter to theatrical excess rendered in physical form, every available surface covered in memorabilia and artifacts that spoke to Julius’s obsession with performance and spectacle.

Playbills from shows dating back decades lined one wall in careful chronological order, their faded paper protected behind glass frames that had been polished to mirror brightness.

Masks hung from the ceiling on invisible wires, creating a suspended gallery of expressions that ranged from comedy to tragedy to emotions I didn’t have names for, each one rotating slowly in air currents and catching light in ways that made their painted features seem almost alive.

A closet dominated one corner, overflowing with garments in every conceivable style—period pieces from eras I couldn’t identify, elaborate fantasy costumes that defied practical construction, simple modern clothing elevated through expert tailoring.

The bed itself was draped in fabric that pooled on the floor in luxurious excess, and above it hung a massive painting of a stage mid-performance, the artist having captured that particular quality of light and shadow that only existed in theaters during actual shows.

I sat at Julius’s desk—a beautiful piece of dark wood carved with theatrical motifs, its surface cluttered with papers, quills, and ink bottles in various states of use—staring down at the letter I’d been drafting for the past hour while my thoughts circled around phrasing and implications like vultures waiting for something to die.

Julius leaned over my shoulder with the kind of casual invasion of personal space that would have annoyed me from anyone else but somehow felt perfectly natural coming from him, his long golden hair falling forward to tickle my cheek as he read along with whatever I’d written so far.

“Ooh!” he exclaimed suddenly, his voice pitched high with excitement as he pointed at a particular sentence. “That bit there is deliciously manipulative! The way you’re phrasing it makes it sound like you’re doing her a favor when really you’re setting up an entire elaborate trap! It’s like watching a master craftsman build a guillotine while convincing the victim it’s actually a very comfortable chair!”

He spun away from the desk with theatrical flair, his robes billowing around him as he executed what might have been the beginning of a pirouette before catching himself on the bedpost.

I rolled my eyes with affection that I didn’t bother hiding because Julius’s energy was infectious in ways that made pretending to be annoyed feel dishonest. “I’m still working on the actual content of the letter, Julius. Your commentary, while appreciated, is making it very difficult to maintain my train of thought.”

I was drafting correspondence to Madame Seraphine—the woman who currently owned Elvina and had been using her as both property and punching bag based on what I’d witnessed from that balcony.

The goal was delicate, requiring me to walk a precise line between appearing conciliatory and maintaining enough strength that she wouldn’t dismiss me as weak or desperate.

I needed to establish friendly connection while also making it clear I had something valuable to offer, to let bygones be bygones regarding the whole “her slave tried to assassinate me” incident while simultaneously enticing her into cooperation by offering up Elvina as a form of alliance.

Julius bounced back upright with the kind of energy that suggested he’d consumed his body weight in coffee before I’d arrived, peering over my shoulder again with renewed interest.

“Wait, wait, explain something to me because I’m having trouble following the logic here.” He pointed at the paragraph where I’d outlined the Elvina exchange. “Why would Madame Seraphine even want Elvina back? I mean, the girl tried to kill you on Seraphine’s orders and failed spectacularly, which makes her a proven failure. Why would any reasonable person take back a broken tool when they could just acquire a new one?”

I laughed lightly, the sound carrying genuine amusement at how Julius had managed to identify the exact question I was counting on Seraphine not asking.

“You’re underselling Elvina’s value.” I leaned back in the chair, organizing my thoughts into something approaching coherent explanation. “Elvina holds monetary value first and foremost—her reputation as the girl who got publicly destroyed and humiliated in the most spectacular fashion makes her a huge selling point for certain clientele. There are people who would pay premium prices just for the privilege of continuing what I started, of getting to debase and torment someone who used to hold power over them or people like them.”

Julius made a sound of understanding, nodding along with increasing enthusiasm as he processed this. “Oh! Oh that’s delicious! She’s become a commodity specifically because of her downfall! The very thing that destroyed her social standing has created a new form of value in completely different markets! It’s almost poetic!”

“Almost,” I agreed. “But more importantly than the monetary aspect, Elvina holds information. Valuable information about our operation gathered during her captivity here.”

I tapped the letter with one finger for emphasis. “Madame Seraphine is a smart woman. I can tell that just from how she’s positioned herself. She’s going to look at Elvina and see an intelligence asset, someone who’s been inside our walls and observed our operations firsthand.”

“And she’ll want to extract that information!” Julius practically vibrated with excitement, his hands coming together in a clap that echoed across the room. “Through torture, manipulation, or simply offering kindness after I’m assuming weeks of abuse—oh, you genius, Loona! You’re giving her exactly what she wants while making it seem like a peace offering! This is—this is—” He seemed to run out of words, resorting instead to spinning in a circle with his arms spread wide.

I allowed myself a small smile at his enthusiasm before continuing. “Seraphine will view things this way because the alternative—the possibility that Elvina would actually be working with me willingly—should seem like an impossibility to her. I’m the person who destroyed Elvina’s entire existence in the most embarrassing and traumatizing way imaginable. I orchestrated her public humiliation, exposed her family’s darkest secrets, reduced her to entertainment in the span of a single evening. The idea that she would ever cooperate with me, that she wouldn’t take any opportunity to betray me given the chance, should strike Seraphine as ridiculous.”

Julius had stopped spinning and was now hanging on my every word with the rapt attention of someone watching their favorite performance.

“But she doesn’t know,” he breathed, understanding dawning across his features. “She doesn’t know that you’ve been creating conditions where cooperation with you becomes the lesser evil compared to going back to Seraphine’s custody.”

“Exactly,” I confirmed. “Elvina isn’t entirely broken—there’s still enough of her original personality intact that redemption remains possible. But what Seraphine has been doing to her, however she’s been treating her since taking ownership, has apparently far outweighed Elvina’s hatred for me. Which creates a situation where Elvina’s loyalty, such as it is, has shifted in directions Seraphine won’t predict.”

Julius nodded along with such vigor I worried he might give himself a concussion, his eyes shining with delight at the complexity of the scheme.

“So you send Elvina back, Seraphine thinks she’s gained an intelligence asset and possibly revenge fodder, she starts extracting information that Elvina will feed her according to your instructions—”

He paused suddenly, his expression shifting to curiosity. “Wait. What happens after that? After Elvina’s been taken back into Seraphine’s custody. How do you corner Seraphine into revealing her own secrets? How does this lead to exposing the Ivory Gambit’s vulnerabilities?”

I smirked, letting the expression carry all the mischief and dark satisfaction I was feeling about the plan’s later stages. “I’ve already started working on that part and I won’t be revealing it quite yet.”

Julius pouted dramatically, his lower lip jutting out in exaggerated disappointment. “You’re keeping secrets from me! After I’ve been such a supportive audience to your scheming! The betrayal! The heartbreak!” He clutched at his chest like he’d been mortally wounded, staggering backward until he collapsed onto the bed again with theatrical flair.

“I’m keeping secrets because some of what I’m planning would make you an accessory to things you probably don’t want to be accessories to,” I said with amusement. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later for maintaining plausible deniability.”

He made a sound of acknowledgment but didn’t push further, instead watching with interest as I returned my attention to the letter and began crafting the final paragraphs.

The writing took another twenty minutes of careful consideration, each word chosen to convey exactly the right balance of contrition and confidence, weakness and strength, desperation and power.

When I finally finished, I read it aloud for Julius’s benefit, pitching my voice to carry the tone I imagined using if I were actually speaking these words to Seraphine in person.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep