Bruch Castle, the chieftain’s private study.
The figure of Prince Reginald Bruch.
The flickering soul flames in the fireplace cast stiff shadows on the walls.
Too much time had passed.
Lester, whom he had sent to execute the “Gentle Trap” mission— that young man who claimed he could melt the eternal permafrost with his charm— had gone completely missing.
It was as if this person had been erased from the very roots of existence.
“No news yet?”
Reginald’s voice was low, suppressing a brewing storm.
Standing before him was Glark, the Minister of Military Affairs.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he shook his head with difficulty.
“Your Highness, we have deployed all our intelligence networks.”
“Whether around the Royal Palace or across the entire Nightfall City, there is no trace of Lester.”
“It’s as if… he vanished into thin air.”
Reginald’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the cold Obsidian Table.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The monotonous echo in the deathly silence made Glark feel as if his heart were being squeezed.
A living man—a Blood Clan Viscount—disappeared near the Royal Palace gardens just like that?
There was only one answer.
One answer so chilling, it sent shivers through their souls even to think of it.
Reginald stopped tapping.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the last trace of hope in his murky gaze was extinguished.
He had lost.
Lost utterly and ridiculously.
His supposedly foolproof plan, that secret and venomous scheme—
before Her Majesty the Queen’s absolute will, it hadn’t even stirred a speck of dust.
“Your Highness, should we—”
Glark wanted to suggest some remedial measures.
“Do nothing.”
Reginald cut him off, his voice nothing but undiluted exhaustion.
“From this day forward, the Bruch Clan no longer has a Lester.”
“Nor was there ever such a plan.”
***
Beneath the same crimson moonlight. Sylvia shifted in her soft bed, heavy with sleep.
Suddenly, her body’s instincts sounded an alarm. There was someone else in the room.
Sylvia froze instantly, her breath caught. She slowly turned her head.
By the faint, eerie blood-red light seeping through the window, she saw a figure sitting silently at her bedside.
Silver hair swept high in an elegant knot.
A black gown blending with the shadows of the room.
Ophelia.
Her mother, the Queen of the Eternal Night Empire.
Sylvia felt as if her heart had been gripped by a cold hand.
When had she come?
Why hadn’t she made a sound?
“Mother?”
She tried speaking, her voice trembling uncontrollably from nerves.
Ophelia did not answer immediately.
She just stared silently at Sylvia.
Those bottomless, blood-colored eyes held no decipherable emotion.
Yet Sylvia felt utterly seen through—from soul to strand of hair.
This is bad, so bad!
Was it because she was caught napping lazily in the garden that afternoon?
Or was it that she only ate half of her blood pudding at dinner, upsetting Her Majesty?
While a storm of panic raged through Sylvia’s mind as she frantically reviewed what rule she might have broken—
Ophelia extended her hand.
In her palm was a palm-sized black hand mirror.
The mirror’s surface was as black as ink.
“This afternoon, a bug came to the garden.”
“It intended to corrupt you.”
She held the mirror up before Sylvia’s eyes. Sylvia looked instinctively.
Reflected in the dark mirror was not her own image.
But a twisted, translucent humanoid silhouette.
The figure in the mirror screamed silently, hysterical, struggling and writhing.
Its features were contorted with extreme pain and terror.
Sylvia recognized him.
Wasn’t this the Blood Clan youth who came over holding flowers, trying to talk to her earlier?
At the time, she thought he was troublesome and just closed her eyes to pretend to sleep, unwilling to respond.
How had just a few hours turned him into such a ghastly sight?
His soul had been pulled out and made into an exhibit?!
“I’ve dealt with him.”
Ophelia’s voice pulled Sylvia back from horror.
Sylvia glanced at the soul writhing in torment in the mirror.
Then at her mother’s expressionless face, as cold as ice.
She understood instantly.
Her mother had taken action.
She exhaled deeply.
From the bottom of her heart, a long breath of relief.
Thank goodness. Luckily, Mother intervened.
Otherwise, if that Blood Clan youth had actually come over to speak to her—
What would she have done?
Should she have sat up or kept pretending to sleep?
Should she have responded? And how? Compliment the moonlight tonight?
God, social interactions were the worst!
Thankfully, the problem was solved at its root.
Former Iron-blooded Ignatius, now socially anxious slacker Sylvia— found a strong sense of agreement with her mother’s ruthless method.
Well done!
Saved me from embarrassment!
Of course, such intense mental activity didn’t escape Ophelia’s perception.
Her Majesty clearly “saw” it.
At the moment she glimpsed that filthy soul, the daughter’s face first flashed with fear.
But then completely relaxed, even showing a hint of… disgust?
Ophelia was very satisfied.
Very good.
Her daughter, just like her, was born pure and noble.
Innately holding the correct vigilance and repulsion toward those parasitic vermin who tried to cling.
Ophelia withdrew the Magic Mirror.
With a flip, Lester’s tortured soul vanished.
She reached out, her movement so gentle it was almost unbelievable.
Her icy fingertips lightly stroked Sylvia’s cheek.
“Sylvia, remember.”
In Ophelia’s blood-red eyes,
Sylvia’s small, slightly confused face was clearly reflected.
“Do not be drawn in by those false and filthy things.”
Sylvia’s body stiffened, too afraid to move, and she nodded hard.
Yes, yes, yes, you are absolutely right!
You are the truth itself!
Don’t let them come near me!
Seeing her daughter so “obedient,”
Ophelia’s voice softened to an unprecedented gentleness.
“In your eyes, there should only be me.”
She paused, as if recalling something.
Then, with a tone bordering on reluctance, she added,
“… and your sister.”
Sylvia: “I appreciate you remembering I have a sister.”
Ophelia gazed at her deeply.
After a long moment, she withdrew her hand and stood.
“Sleep.”
With those words, her figure merged into the shadows and disappeared.
Sylvia exhaled and collapsed completely onto the bed.
Those few minutes just now were more exhausting than her time on the battlefield.
Mentally exhausting.
She pulled the blanket over her head.
At last, she could sleep soundly.
If any unthinking troublemaker dared to bother her again, Mother would deal with them.
However, before she could even be happy for three seconds—
“Bang!”
The door to the bedchamber was violently kicked open once more from outside.
Avira’s excited, almost fanatical face poked in.
“Sis! Are you awake?”
“I just caught a few Saint Knights, let’s go play the new Hunting Game!”