Sylvie Martin left 58 Elysée Avenue, wanting to say something to her superior but, after deliberating, decided to keep this secret.
Charlot Mecklenburg did not want anyone to know about their previous engagement, and neither did she.
In society, a young woman who had once been engaged would inevitably face prejudice—this was an undeniable reality.
Silently surprised, she mused to herself, "How did Charlot suddenly change? And what’s going on between him and Miss Annie? Could it be… love is truly inspiring? To think that scoundrel, rotten as he was, actually managed to meet such a good girl like Annie."
"If I hadn’t broken off the engagement back then…"
Sylvie shivered at the thought. Her memories of Charlot were too vivid, and frankly, too awful. Though Charlot had changed significantly, she still could not accept him.
After all, Sylvie had once witnessed, with her own eyes, her former fiancé being chased naked down the street by a furious husband wielding a sword.
That revolting scene still made Sylvie Martin feel as though her eyes needed cleansing.
Venie Arsenault suddenly remarked, "What a pity. If I had known about this a few days earlier and intervened, I might have recruited an excellent detective. But I heard that his superior, that formidable young lady, stepped in and resolved the matter. He’s probably on a meteoric rise now and will never return to detective work."
Only then did Sylvie Martin realize that her superior had once considered bringing Charlot Mecklenburg into the fold.
Meanwhile, Charlot had sent off the three ladies and hired a carriage to head to Machubi. He had a responsibility to those adventurers. Their supplies were limited, and if they could not find a way out soon, they would be starving within days.
On the way, Charlot attempted the Knightly Breathing Techniques again, only to taste failure once more. Sighing, he gave up for the moment.
Sheffield University was protected by the Lady of the Black Moon. Its knightly training methods, the Dark Breathing Technique and the advanced Black Moon Meditation, were some of the most esteemed techniques of the Old Continent. Menielman Soumet had achieved her Transcendence using this method.
Failing once again did not upset Charlot too much—this was not his first failure, after all.
Before leaving the city, Charlot had the carriage detour briefly to the Marne District, where he returned to Kilmainham Prison.
Although he would not officially return to work for three more days, Charlot wanted to take a walk through his former workplace.
As the saying goes: “To return home without glory is like wearing embroidered garments at night.”
He was curious about the current state of Warden Magru Trell.
"I’ll just take a quick look. It won’t take much time," he reasoned.
When Charlot identified himself at the prison gate, the guards looked at him differently, their expressions unusually respectful. Once inside, he first visited Mrs. Pascal, the reception secretary. The scars on her face had not fully healed, and her movements were still a bit stiff, but she looked radiant and in good spirits. She greeted Charlot with heartfelt enthusiasm.
After exchanging pleasantries, Charlot excused himself. He found the Warden’s office empty. Magru Trell had been dismissed, and a new warden had yet to take office. Charlot knew the former warden, who had fallen from grace, was now in one of the cells. He had no interest in seeing him.
Let Magru Trell stew for a bit longer, Charlot thought. If I visit now, I might just get cursed out. Give it a few days, and his temper will likely improve.
As he was about to revisit his old office—likely for the last time—Charlot unexpectedly ran into someone.
A middle-aged prison guard with a thick beard, who managed the armory, approached him. Without a word, the man handed Charlot a heavy pouch and said, "Mr. Mecklenburg, these are belongings you left in the office. I’ve been holding onto them for you, and it’s a relief to return them personally."
Charlot was slightly surprised—he had no recollection of leaving anything behind.
The bearded guard leaned closer and whispered, "Magru Trell’s dealings with confiscated Transcendent weapons angered some powerful people. They’ve pushed for a ‘cleanup operation.’"
"Miss Menielman assigned you to this case, but… I personally advise you not to get involved."
Having said that, the middle-aged man saluted Charlot and left quietly.
Charlot’s mind quickly pieced it all together, and he almost laughed out loud.
Magru Trell’s attempts to investigate his own role in the black market trafficking of Transcendent weapons had indeed stirred the hornet’s nest. This was a secret pipeline, with countless people up and down the ranks complicit in it.
As a first-class civil servant, though at the bottom of the aristocratic hierarchy, Charlot now held enough status to "participate" in such matters. By taking possession of three Transcendent weapons, he had effectively assumed responsibility for their disappearance.
One of these weapons had already entered the black market, its value converted into flors and centimes—profits that would be divided among many within the prison system. The bearded guard, after all, was just a pawn. He would never dare keep a Transcendent weapon for himself; even eight lifetimes of work could not earn him its worth.
This was the unspoken rule: disrupt the status quo, and the backlash was inevitable.
With Menielman now firmly established, Charlot’s fortunes rose as well. All previously "borrowed" Transcendent weapons were now officially attributed to Magru Trell. Whether or not Trell had actually taken them no longer mattered—what mattered was ensuring that everyone could "agree" on this story.
Magru Trell had undoubtedly amassed significant wealth during his tenure, enough to "surrender most of it" in restitution. After all, every coin he owned was dirty money.
For maintaining these unspoken rules, Charlot deserved a share. It was expected. If Charlot received nothing, everyone else would feel uneasy.
After all, this case required Charlot to testify against Magru Trell’s embezzlement of Transcendent weapons to complete the official process.
What if Charlot took nothing? Would they return the confiscated goods? That would be far too much trouble.
Charlot did not open the pouch but tucked it casually into his coat pocket.
His interest in revisiting his office vanished. He now wanted to return to 58 Elysée Avenue and count his gold écus.
As Charlot prepared to leave, the prison suddenly stirred with excitement. The guards formed ranks to welcome a distinguished guest.
Charlot did not expect his "luck" to be so good—he had arrived just in time to witness the new warden’s arrival. The last time this happened, Charlot had skipped work to go on a date with Annie Bretagne.
Now reinstated as a first-class civil servant and still technically part of Kilmainham Prison, Charlot could not simply slip away. Reluctantly, he joined the prison’s mid- and high-ranking staff to welcome the new warden.