The rest of the team all froze at Miranda's words.
Ahead, Tales stood beside Jann, staring intently at the seemingly desperate and self-abandoned Federico, still unable to understand.
"That's right, Cousin. Well said... Everyone must pay the price for what they've done..."
Under the guards' rough restraint, Federico panted:
"So you—you bystanders—you must understand: if you don't stand up, if you really let him, let Jann get his way..."
The surrounding vassals and guests exchanged glances.
The prisoner struggled to raise his head and happened to look toward Tales.
"Then he wins! Jann Cavendish wins in every respect, completely and flawlessly! And I—I'll die without a burial place, never get back on my feet, and lose everything, everything! Hah... hahahahaha..."
Federico let out an unpleasant laugh. Whispering broke out among the vassals and guests, and many began to question his sanity.
Tales met Federico's gaze and could not help frowning.
Strange.
Unlike Anke Bayral at the royal banquet, whose despair had been bleak and gloomy...
Federico was gloomy too, but his smile gave Tales an inexplicable sense of unease.
It was as though, behind that profound and despairing smile that seemed to see through everything, an even more terrifying power was hidden.
Be careful, Tales.
The voice deep within the boy faintly emerged:
This is someone who willingly, even happily, became a chess piece.
Be careful.
"Then the game is completely over. There's no turning back."
Federico stared fixedly at Tales, his smile strange.
"That's enough. Stop spouting nonsense. Take him away and have the relevant department handle the matter," Jann replied calmly, turning around. "The Selection Tournament will continue—and by the way, does the wager from the previous round still count?"
Seychelles gave a cold snort and waved his hand. Soldiers immediately stepped forward and roughly hauled Federico up.