Chiara muttered to herself nearby. Roman seemed to have finally recovered her composure, and she turned around and asked, "What are you talking about, Chiara? I know that woman. She's a bad woman."
"That's only in regard to you and that fellow." Chiara giggled. "Although we can't rule out the possibility that the Empire's chancellor and his daughter are on bad terms, it's extremely unlikely. You can tell from that woman's arrogance and stubbornness. A daughter who isn't loved by her father couldn't possibly go that far. Hmph!" She gave a soft snort, clearly holding no favorable impression of the chancellor's daughter either. However, before Roman could ask where she had met the chancellor's daughter, Chiara quickly skipped over the subject and stared at Bori. Flint continued, "In my opinion, the more likely possibility is that this fellow is a mole—"
Chiara stared at poor Mister Bori Flint with the expression of a feline toying with its prey. Her beautiful sapphire-like eyes were filled with danger. "In other words, Chancellor Nidwen may not be the traitor, but that traitor is at least not far from the Empire's upper echelons—"
Bori Flint began to tremble. He had originally thought that his opponent was merely a willful noble young lady throwing a tantrum, and that once she had vented her anger on him, she would let him go. As for the chancellor's daughter, he hadn't dared say a single word about her, believing that he could escape this calamity. But he hadn't expected to be only half right. This young lady indeed had no interest in reasoning with a defeated opponent, but she also possessed a shrewdness far beyond her age. He hadn't said a word, yet she had already guessed **almost everything.
Bori Flint began to feel that he had chosen