A few days had passed since the medicinal herbs were transplanted to the garden's field.

Thanks to daily watering with magic-infused water each morning, the herbs were growing exceptionally well—too well, perhaps. Lush and vibrant, they even seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. This must be the effect of Grace.

"Master, we’ve run out of that soap. Please make more!"

"You’ve been giving it out to every visitor, Pal. Of course, it’s gone so quickly."

"For women, healthy hair and skin are lifelines. Sharing a little is only fair."

"I’m not planning on selling soap."

"But the herbs are thriving. Why not sell the products made from them?"

"I made the soap for you, remember?"

"That makes me so happy! But... more, please?"

Pal's persistence could be troublesome at times.

"If making it is a hassle, perhaps we can delegate the work to someone else. Selling it would easily recover the costs."

While Solderic and Artemis managed the finer details of daily life, it was still I who infused the Grace water every morning. Though it wasn't much effort, the idea of mass-producing soap was...

A few more days passed, and the date for my audience with the king was set.

One morning, as I prepared for sword practice and was about to leave the house, Solderic whispered to me.

"Where are they?"

"In the warehouse."

"Got it."

When I reached the warehouse, I found six figures dressed in black, all tied up.

The duke’s house had finally made their move—they sent assassins.

My defeat of the Red Dragon and the subsequent conferment of honors must have alarmed them. They likely feared my rising influence.

But who orchestrated this? My stepmother? Or my father? In time, the truth would come out. Predictable, those two.

Of course, neither of them knew that I had Solderic, Artemis, and five liches under my command.

With constant surveillance by Solderic’s team, no intruder could penetrate the mansion. Even if someone managed to slip through, my personal bodyguard, Pal, would ensure their failure.

Still, that strength wasn't mine alone—I couldn't afford complacency.

"Sire, these men refuse to talk."

Artemis, gripping one assassin’s hair, slashed his face with a fork before rubbing salt into the wound.

The sight of the usually cheerful young girl gleefully torturing someone was... unsettling.

Yet, despite the pain, the assassin remained silent. Their resolve was impressive.

"Enough, Artemis. Go help Solderic inside."

"Understood, sire."

Artemis skipped away, her cheerful demeanor returning. Out of context, she seemed like an innocent girl. Inside the warehouse, though, the scene was grim.

All six captives had their tendons cut and bore clear marks of torture. Their mouths had also been thoroughly inspected for hidden weapons or poisons.

"Tell me who ordered my assassination. Though I doubt you’ll comply."

The assassins glared at me with sharp eyes.

"Well, no matter."

I invoked Analyze.

Threads of magical energy enveloped the six figures, illuminating them faintly.

Unlike common appraisal skills, Analyze produces unavoidable magical effects upon activation. This allows it to uncover the entire history of the target, not just surface-level information. The result? A massive influx of data.

"Sarge, Beck, Drylos, Amon, Est, and Jule."

I revealed their names.

"Sarge is the leader, and you all belong to the Night Crow, an underground guild of assassins."

"Tch, appraisal magic?" snarled a man in his forties with bright blond hair—the leader, Sarge.

Among the six, five were men, and one was a woman.

The woman, Amon, was only twenty years old. Despite her youth, her actions as an assassin had been unspeakably vile.

"This isn’t appraisal magic, Sarge."

"Hmph, so what if you know our names? Nothing changes."

"Really? Sarge, you’re from the empire’s slums. You killed your first person at eleven. After that, your life spiraled downward, working alongside your elder brother figure, Mash."

Sarge's eyes widened in shock.

"Mash was captured and executed in the empire, forcing you to flee to the kingdom. You joined the Night Crow at eighteen, underwent grueling training, and debuted as an assassin at twenty-one. Oh, and the assassination of Baron Bacchus? That was your handiwork. Impressive work."

"You... What are you?"

"Me? Just a novice healer."

"Don’t mock me!"

"I’m not. Thanks to your memories, I’ve learned a lot."

"What do you mean...?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just that the Night Crow has five bases in this capital. Heh, this is getting interesting."

"Wha—what are you planning?"

What am I planning? Isn’t it obvious?

I’ll crush their bases and uncover who hired them—my father, stepmother, or someone else entirely.

This is going to be fun.