Watching Jack fume at the door, arguing with the Attendant for a while, he finally seemed ready to give up and slink away to the back entrance.

Baron pressed a hand to his forehead. He didn’t want to cause a scene, but Jack was already drawing attention. Since they had arrived together, it might arouse unwanted suspicion.

Just as he was about to step forward and defuse the situation, someone else arrived.

A woman approached, her face hidden behind a Silver Mask. She wore a red dress that left her shoulders and arms bare, with a more brightly colored gauze skirt underneath. Her soft, alluring hair was tied back with a ribbon, as dark as ink, each strand shimmering with a vibrant luster.

Beneath the mask, a pair of captivating red eyes shone, making her fair skin seem even whiter.

She gave the Attendant a faint smile, and he immediately stood ramrod straight, as if mesmerized—like a fir tree waiting to be picked for Christmas.

The polite gentlemen froze, and the elegant noblewomen stared, utterly dumbfounded.

Perhaps they had never seen a woman like her. Even with the mask, she was like a diamond behind a pane of glass—so brilliant one could not stare directly at her.

Jack took the opportunity to slip inside. He leaned close to Baron’s ear and whispered, "Nine o’clock."

Baron glanced toward nine o’clock, scanning the area. "I don’t see ’S’," he said.

’S’ was their codename for the mission’s target: Freya.

Their mission this time was to create an opportunity for Baron to be alone with Freya. He needed to persuade her to grant him a resolution, whether through absolution or condemnation.

At this thought, Baron’s brow furrowed. He had no idea what his ex-fiancée’s attitude toward him was after what happened that day. He could only hope a little guilt-tripping would still work on her.

"Who’s talking about ’S’? I’m talking about that roast suckling pig, you see it? How about we go fifty-fifty, brother?"

Jack analyzed the situation. "Anyway, the guest of honor isn’t out yet. All these nobles are too proud to eat, even though they’re obviously starving... See that girl in the princess dress to the right? She’s glanced at the roast suckling pig at least seven times!"

’Seriously? Did you really only come here to stuff your face?’

Baron accepted a glass of red wine from a passing Attendant. He had to admit, after Jack’s speech, he was starting to feel a little hungry himself, but he couldn’t forget about the mission.

"So, what do you say?" Jack whispered. "That spot by the roast pig is the best vantage point in the house. You can look up and see the girls’ calves under their skirts on the balcony, and it’s also the perfect spot for when the food comes out... Ooh, they just brought out some Peking duck!"

"Peking duck? I love Peking duck. I’ll join you," a voice said from behind them.

He turned to see the red-dressed woman with the Silver Mask.

Baron tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun under his jacket.

’How did she get so close without me noticing? Did she overhear my conversation with Jack?’

At that thought, a cold glint entered Baron’s eyes.

But the woman in red seemed not to notice the coldness in Baron’s eyes. She addressed Jack directly, "I’ll call dibs on the Peking duck. How about you save me two of the pig’s trotters?"

Jack, for his part, snapped out of his daze. Dining with a beautiful woman was always an improvement, especially one as stunning as this, who seemed both noble and elegant, yet possessed a girlish charm.

He immediately puffed out his chest. "Two? I’ll save you three!"

"L, what do you think? Want me to save you a trotter...?"

Jack turned his head, but saw that L had already left the food tables and was walking toward the glittering ballroom, where couples were waltzing to elegant music.

He looked over and saw why: Freya had arrived.

Meanwhile, the woman in red turned down yet another gentleman trying to make conversation. She watched Baron’s retreating figure thoughtfully as she elegantly dismembered the roast suckling pig with her knife and fork.

...

Baron drew many stares as he walked, likely due to the emerald eyes visible beneath his mask, his naturally severe expression, and the Gold threading on his suit cuffs that formed the sigil of Westminster Cathedral.

Stella had once solemnly told Baron during his etiquette training:

"L, although you’re attending this banquet on behalf of the Deputy Director to atone for your sins, in a way, your every action also represents the dignity of Westminster Cathedral."

As she’d said this, Jack had been complaining off to the side that his suit didn’t fit and wondering why his own suit didn’t have the gold threading of Westminster Cathedral. After all, he was the veteran member, wasn’t he?

As people noticed the man dressed all in black and turned to look, men and women alike felt a jolt of surprise.

A young man who was both imposing and reserved, yet strikingly handsome.

"He’s an agent from Westminster Cathedral, representing Howard Davis," whispered one of the Old Blood Nobility on the dais.

"He certainly looks the part. His rank in Westminster Cathedral must be high..."

"Even with the mask, you can tell he’s handsome... And that posture... He looks like trouble."

The women of the Old Race gossiped excitedly, their curious gazes toward Baron tinged with desire.

"Westminster Cathedral... Hmph. Just a bunch of weaklings who rely on Taboo Items. That arrogant look in his eyes... he’s no better than that Wilder fellow."

A powerfully built young man with a wolf-tail haircut spoke coldly from his position on the high platform.

He was Gold Walter, the second son of the Walter Demon Hunter Clan, and a Bronze Beast Demon Hunter.

"It’s best not to provoke anyone from Westminster Cathedral. People who deal with Taboo Items day in and day out are never to be trifled with."

The young man beside Gold—the one with red hair, red eyes, and a Silver Mask—commented lightly.

He was Andy, a Bronze Beast Demon Hunter from the Demon Hunter Association, nicknamed the "Dragon Demon Hunter."

"Shy away from him? Are you kidding me? It was a beast from Westminster Cathedral who snuck into my family’s estate and stole the Taboo Item I’d worked so hard to acquire, using ’containment’ as a flimsy excuse."

Gold’s gaze, fixed on Baron, turned frigid. "Afterward, my family demanded that Westminster Cathedral hand over the suspect, only to be told ’no such person exists.’"

"That kind of blatant substitution... only those bastards at Westminster Cathedral would pull a stunt like that."

Gold practically spat the words out, his teeth clenched in fury.

’That blond bastard... I’d recognize him even if he were nothing but ash!’

...

「In the ballroom.」

Baron deftly handled the invitations from young madams and noble misses. Amidst the pleasantries and exchanged toasts, he had already pieced together the primary purpose of the evening’s banquet.

It was more or less just as Stella had described.

At the banquet’s climax, the Young Master of the Hestia Family would propose to Freya, the sole daughter of Lancelot’s Family. The engagement ring was said to be crafted from the legendary Red Dragon Scale, a one-of-a-kind treasure.

Red Dragon Scale.

Baron’s gaze traveled past the wine glass a young noblewoman held up to him, landing on Freya, who stood some distance away, surrounded by a coterie of other young ladies.

Today she was dressed in a pure white princess gown, adorned with countless pearls of the same pure white. Paired with pure white detached sleeves and pure white crystal slippers, her fair skin made her look like a pure white Angel descended from the Celestial Kingdom.

Baron noticed Freya’s golden hair was worn loose over her shoulders today; the Twin rose hairpin she always used to wear was missing.

"Who is that young lady in the white dress beside Miss Lancelot?" Baron asked one of the noblewomen nonchalantly.

He decided on an indirect approach.

The noblewoman replied, her voice tinged with disappointment, "That is the young lady from the Constantine Family, sir."

She assumed Baron wasn’t interested in her.

’The young lady of the Constantine Family...’

Baron’s eyebrow twitched and his expression tightened instinctively, before he remembered his face was hidden by the mask.

He did his best to keep his voice steady. "Which Constantine Family?"

"What other Constantine family is there? The family of the infamous Bloodless, Baron Constantin, the one who assassinated Anthony."

Another noblewoman in a low-cut gown stepped forward. She tapped her glass against Baron’s, took a delicate sip, and continued the explanation, her red lips parting:

"However, the Constantine Family acted swiftly when the incident occurred. They issued a public statement declaring that Baron Constantin and his sister had been cast out from the Inner Side years ago. The current power within the Constantine Family belongs to what was once a branch lineage."

"This Miss Windsor is from that branch. I don’t know her original surname, but in any case, it’s Constantin now."

The noblewoman puffed out her chest, her tone dripping with disdain as she glanced at the rather timid-looking girl in white beside Freya.

"The Constantine elders probably sent this Miss Windsor to fawn over and ingratiate herself with the young lady of Lancelot’s Family as a form of damage control."

The noblewoman, dressed in classic European fashion, lifted her pale chin.

"See that man on the dais? He’s one of the current leaders of the Constantine Family—the second maternal uncle of the Bloodless, Baron.

The three young men behind him and Miss Windsor are his sons and daughter. They are also cousins to that Baron Constantin."

Baron looked up, and his gaze met that of the man the noblewoman had just mentioned—a middle-aged man in a black robe with graying temples and a sharp gaze.

The man paused for a fraction of a second, then raised his glass to Baron, drained it in a single gulp, and turned away.

"Father, that whelp from Westminster Cathedral didn’t return your toast," one of the young men leaned in to say.

"It’s fine. His eyes just reminded me of someone I once knew. I was merely looking for an excuse to drink."

Conrad Pell, now Conrad Constantin, said lightly.

"Your sister, on the other hand... It seems her noble bearing is still sorely lacking. She’s a far cry from Yelena back in her day..."

Conrad paused. "And what are the rest of you doing just standing behind me? Can’t you see the young people from the Hestia, Frank, and Walter families are all near the dance floor?

If the Constantine Family is to rise again, we will need their help!"

...

「In the ballroom.」

"If you ask me... even if that Baron was a Bloodless, at least he was from the Direct Lineage. These name-thieves are the ones who are truly despicable. Don’t you agree, sir?"

The noblewoman suddenly noticed Baron was no longer beside her. She turned to see him down his glass of wine, place it on a passing tray, and stride forward. He bowed and extended a hand to Windsor Constantin.

"My beautiful lady, may I have this dance?"

’The plan had changed. A simple diversion had become a targeted infiltration.’