Chapter 17: My daughter, is she someone you can covet?

That afternoon tea, mingled with sweets and blood, became a nightmare Sylvia couldn’t shake.

For several days, she remained listless and dispirited.

Whenever she closed her eyes, Avira’s innocent yet cruel smile would surface.

Echoing in her ears was that chilling whisper.

“Next time, we’ll use the knights of the Starlight Cathedral as targets.”

She was scared.

Her sister Avira’s way of “relieving boredom” was too extreme.

Her little salted fish brain was about to short-circuit.

What Sylvia didn’t know was that while she was sinking into deep self-doubt, Avira was proudly reporting her “achievement” to Queen Ophelia.

“Mother, my sister is happy again. She really enjoyed the game I prepared.”

Those were Avira’s exact words.

“Your plan is too troublesome. Mine is straightforward and effective.”

Ophelia looked at her eldest daughter’s “praise me” expression and, unusually, didn’t refute her.

As long as Sylvia was happy, the process didn’t matter.

Thus, the nearly executed Plan to Relocate the Starlight Cathedral was temporarily halted.

The empire’s war machine abruptly hit the brakes on the eve of its launch.

The high ranks of the Eternal Night Empire all let out a solid sigh of relief.

Except for a few.

Bruch Castle, the clan lord’s fortress.

In the study, the soul fire in the fireplace danced.

It cast the shadow of Prince Reginald Bruch on the wall, distorting and elongating it.

This head of the Bruch Clan, one of the empire’s two princes,

was tapping his knuckles on the desk at an unhurried pace.

Standing before him was his trusted aide, Glack Bruch, Duke and Minister of Military Affairs.

“Your Highness, you have witnessed the fate of the Mephist clan.”

Glack’s voice was heavy, still tinged with the shock of surviving a disaster.

“Her Majesty the Queen and the Crown Princess’s favoritism toward that little princess has gone beyond reason.”

Reginald did not reply, his gaze lingering on the soul fire.

The bones of the Mephist elder were still cold; he was well aware.

To directly challenge the queen’s authority was the act of a fool.

Yet, therein lay an opportunity.

“Glack.”

Reginald finally spoke, his voice calm and emotionless.

“What do you think a canary raised in a golden cage lacks?”

Glack paused, unable to follow the prince’s line of thought.

Reginald answered himself.

“It doesn’t lack food, nor shelter.”

“But it will long for the sky, for the song of companions, for…”

He raised his eyes; in his cloudy pupils flickered a cunning glint.

“Love.”

“That little princess’s soul core is, after all, human.”

“No matter how overbearing the queen’s motherly love is, or how madly the crown princess dotes on her, there is one thing they cannot replace.”

“A gentle, sweet solace from the opposite sex.”

Glack’s breath suddenly caught; he understood.

“You mean…”

“Find someone to warm her, to comfort her, to make her fall in love.”

A cold smile curled at the corner of Reginald’s mouth.

“A handsome, elegant, witty young man who can satisfy all her romantic fantasies.”

“As long as she falls in love with one of ours, she will no longer be just the queen’s daughter.”

“She will become the Bruch Clan’s most crucial chess piece in the game against royal power.”

The plan was ruthless and covert.

If successful, the Bruch Clan would gain unimaginable political capital.

If it failed…

Reginald’s tone was flat.

“If it fails, it’s merely a young man’s infatuation, unrelated to the clan.”

All risks had been accounted for.

Glack bowed his head deeply.

“Your Highness, your foresight is profound.”

“However, the candidate…”

“I have already decided.”

Reginald rang the silver bell on the table.

Moments later, the study door opened, and a young bloodline noble entered.

Viscount Lester Bruch.

The most renowned ladies’ man among the Bruch Clan’s younger generation.

“I pay my respects, Clan Lord.”

Lester saluted with a hand over his chest, every move textbook perfect.

Reginald looked at him, nodding in approval.

“Lester, I have a task for you.”

“A task that will catapult you to become a figure of imperial influence.”

When Lester heard the entire plan, a fire of uncontrollable ambition ignited deep within his crimson eyes.

Seduce Princess Sylvia?

He laughed.

He had absolute confidence in his charm.

From court ladies to common girls, no woman had escaped his grasp.

That legendary frail and lonely little princess would surely be an easy catch.

“Rest assured, Clan Lord.”

Lester spoke with confidence.

“In less than three days, I will have Princess Sylvia utterly captivated by me.”

He viewed this as the most dazzling gamble of his life.

Win, and he would own the world.

He was completely unaware that the girl he was about to face was not a lovestruck maiden,

but two world-class predators who regarded her as a forbidden treasure.

***

Afternoon.

Sylvia was “basking in the moonlight” in the garden.

In reality, she had just found a lounge chair, wrapped herself in a blanket, and spaced out.

She needed to slow down.

She had to slow down.

If her sister dragged her into another one of those “hunting games,” she might actually die on the spot.

The garden was filled with the Eternal Night Empire’s unique Moonlight Orchid, exuding an eerie black-gray hue.

Silence.

The only advantage of this place.

Just as Sylvia was about to drift off, faint footsteps approached.

She was too lazy to open her eyes, assuming it was a maid.

“Good afternoon, esteemed Princess.”

A warm, magnetic male voice sounded nearby.

Sylvia furrowed her brows.

A man?

She forced herself to crack open one eye.

A young bloodline noble stood a few meters away.

In his hands was a rare bouquet of Moonlight Orchids, and he wore an almost perfect smile.

Sylvia’s first reaction: Who is this? Wrong scene?

Her second: Too much trouble, pretend to be asleep.

Lester looked at the silver-haired girl lying on the chair, too lazy even to move, and felt even more confident.

The rumors were true.

So delicate, so lonely.

She must be very lonely.

She must be longing for someone to talk to, to bring her a trace of warmth.

He adjusted his bow tie and took an elegant step forward, ready to unleash his irresistible charm.

He would use the gentlest verses to unlock her tightly closed heart.

He would melt her frozen world with the most passionate gaze.

He took the first step.

Then.

The world around him stopped.

Not figuratively.

Physically, utterly stopped.

The air crystallized into an unbreakable solid, freezing him rigidly in place.

The wind ceased.

Light no longer flowed.

He could even see the three-dimensional trajectory of a speck of dust frozen in mid-air.

His heart was squeezed to a halt by an invisible force.

His blood congealed.

Only his mind was allowed to exist.

Existing in this absolute stillness, tasting purest terror.

What was happening?

What was going on?

Lester’s mind went blank; his proud composure and eloquence were sealed along with his body.

A black shadow silently spread at his feet.

It was not a shadow cast by any object.

It was pure darkness seeping from the cracks of space itself.

A figure appeared behind Lester out of nowhere.

Ophelia.

She wore a simple black gown, her silver hair neatly pinned up, her expression cold and inhuman.

She didn’t look at Lester.

Her gaze remained fixed on the small figure on the lounge chair in the distance.

Confirming her daughter’s steady breathing, undisturbed by anything.

Then, she cast the merest fraction of attention toward the “trash” behind her.

No sound was made.

But a cold, emotionless question detonated deep in Lester’s soul.

“My daughter.”

“Is she something you dare covet?”

Lester’s soul trembled violently under this divine interrogation, on the verge of collapse.

He was horrified to find himself unable to move, speak, or even roll his eyes.

What he faced was a force beyond his comprehension.

It was godly power.

The pressure of a pseudo-divine strong being was a crushing force from another dimension.

He couldn’t even form a complete thought of begging for mercy.

The next second.

The ground beneath Lester, along with his entire body, was cut into a perfect circle.

No loud noise, no shaking.

That circular patch of earth quietly, vertically sank into a suddenly appeared, pinpoint-sized rift of darkness.

The entire process took less than a second.

The garden returned to normal.

Sylvia, on the lounge chair, felt a chill.

Unconsciously, she pulled the blanket tighter, turned over, and continued to sleep.

She was completely unaware of everything that had just happened.

Silent Royal Court, Queen’s Study.

Ophelia’s figure reappeared.

She approached an unremarkable display shelf against the wall.

The shelf held dozens of magic mirrors of various styles, each sealed with a twisted soul.

She stretched out her hand, and a new palm-sized black obsidian hand mirror appeared.

Inside its surface, a shrunken, distorted soul flickered silently, screaming and struggling.

It was Lester.

His body had long been annihilated into fundamental particles in the dimensional rift.

His soul would be imprisoned within this specially made Sin Mirror, eternally, until complete dissolution.

Ophelia casually placed the new mirror on an inconspicuous empty spot on the display shelf.

After finishing this, she returned to her desk.

***

Bruch Castle.

Prince Reginald Bruch sat upright in his study, savoring his favorite aged Blood Brew.

He was waiting.

Waiting for news from Lester.

One hour passed.

Two and a half hours passed.

The blood moon outside had begun to set, but the study remained deathly silent.

Reginald’s composed expression gradually faded.

He put down his wine glass.

His fingertips tapped unconsciously on the desk, faster and faster.

A sense of foreboding rose in his heart.

His foolproof plan, his gentle trap.

Had gone wrong.