CHAPTER 174: INSIDER AND AN ASSISTANT [3]

Her stare lingered, unblinking. The quiet between us grew thick, so sharp that even Perno stirred from his indifference, flicking an ear in vague curiosity.

Finally, Amelia broke it.

"You presume too much, demon." Her voice was crisp, laced with frost. "Not everything can be reduced to ambition and personal gain. Some of us still remember the meaning of legacy."

I laughed—soft, deliberate, the kind of laugh that never reached the eyes.

"Legacy? A pretty word for shackles." I leaned forward, elbows resting lazily on the table, my grin widening. "Tell me, Amelia Frost... if this was only about your family’s legacy, would you really be sitting here across from me, dealing with a creature you despise? Or is it that—"

I tapped the map spread between us with one finger. "—you have something more personal at stake?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. The mask didn’t crack, not quite, but I caught the flicker in her gaze—the kind of flicker that betrayed more than words ever could.

"You’re insufferable." She leaned back, folding her arms, her eyes narrowing with aristocratic disdain. "Do you enjoy playing games with every sentence, or is it simply in your nature to taint every deal with suspicion?"

"Suspicion?" I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Oh no, Amelia. This isn’t suspicion. It’s... instinct. A knack for sniffing out the cracks in someone’s armor. And yours..."

I let my smile sharpen. "...is that you care far too much about something you shouldn’t."

Her jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, the perfect composure of the Frost heiress faltered, the faintest shadow of heat crossing her pale cheeks before she forced it back down.

"If you think you can use that against me, you’ll be disappointed."

"Mm. Maybe." I shrugged, pretending indifference, though my eyes never left hers. "Or maybe it just makes you... interesting."

Her fingers drummed against her sleeve once, twice, before she stilled them. The ice in her voice returned full force.

"Enough." She straightened, her poise flawless once more. "You have what you came for. The list, the map. If you intend to meddle in this auction, do it well. Fail, and you won’t just have the rival families hunting you—you’ll have me."

The way she said it—quiet, steady, absolute—wasn’t bluster. It was promise.

I chuckled again, softer this time, not mocking but edged with respect. "There it is. The Amelia Frost I was waiting for."

She didn’t reply, only regarded me with that piercing frostbite gaze, daring me to continue.

I leaned back, finally folding the map with practiced ease. "Don’t worry. I’ll play my part. But do me a favor..."

I let the grin creep back, slow and sly. "...try not to let your personal stakes make you reckless. It’d be a shame if you burned everything you worked so hard to freeze solid."

For just a fraction of a second, her composure trembled again, an ember of something raw flickering in those eyes before it was buried beneath ice.

"...Get out of my sight."

I rose smoothly, offering her a mock bow. "As you command, Lady Frost."

And as I turned, I caught the quietest thing of all—the faintest exhale, like she’d been holding her breath too long.

’There it is,’ I thought with satisfaction. ’The crack in the ice.’

---

Amelia held her composure, her eyes fixed on Julies, though inside her stomach twisted with unease.

He’d said it so casually, with that mocking little grin of his. Not honest, huh?

She had dealt with countless schemers in her life—nobles with honeyed words, merchants with slippery tongues, even assassins who swore loyalty while clutching a poisoned blade behind their back. But Julies Evans... no, the Faceless Imposter, was different. He read too much. He saw too much.

Her sleeve suddenly felt tight against her wrist. She lowered her hand slowly, deliberately, before he noticed. Or rather, before she gave him the satisfaction of confirming what he already suspected.

"...I don’t recall ever owing you honesty," she said smoothly, her tone clipped, measured. "We are allies of convenience, nothing more. Don’t confuse necessity with trust."

Julies chuckled, low and irritating, as if her words amused him rather than rebuffed him.

"Ah, but there’s the problem," he said, twirling the rolled parchment between his fingers. "Convenience never explains... desperation."

Her breath caught—so faintly no one else would have noticed. But she knew he did. His eyes were too sharp, too sly.

"...If you intend to play word games," she answered coolly, "I suggest you do it elsewhere. I’ve no patience for demons who talk more than they act."

He tilted his head, smiling like a fox. "And yet, here you are, whispering secrets to one."

Her jaw tightened. She wanted to snap back, to crush that smug grin, but she forced herself to keep her mask intact. She couldn’t allow him to see what she really feared.

Because it wasn’t just about the Frost family.

It wasn’t just about crushing a rival guild.

It was about Alice.

The thought alone burned her chest. Alice, walking so close to Julies lately. Alice, trusting his sly words, relying on his guidance. It was intolerable.

That was why Amelia had taken this risk, why she had slipped him knowledge that should have remained locked within her family’s vault. Better to feed the demon, to bind him with utility, than let him carve his own place at Alice’s side unchecked.

Amelia exhaled softly, willing her voice to remain steady. "I gave you what you need. That should be enough for you. Or are you the sort who mistakes generosity for weakness?"

The way he smirked told her he’d already guessed at the truth—that she had more at stake in this than she dared admit.

Julies leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into something quieter, more cutting.

"You know, Amelia... you glare at me like I’m the wolf circling your flock. But the way you cling so tightly to Alice, one might wonder if you’re protecting her... or keeping her."

Her breath froze.

For the briefest moment, her mask nearly cracked.

But she forced a smile instead, razor-sharp. "Careful, Imposter. Wolves are often hunted for sport. Don’t give me reason to make you one."

Their gazes locked, neither willing to yield.

Inside, though, Amelia’s heart hammered against her ribs. Not out of fear—never fear—but out of fury.

Because he had seen too much.

Because he had dared to voice aloud what she could never let slip.

And because, damn him, a part of her knew he was enjoying every second of it.