Two succubi briefly clashed before swiftly parting.
Rita’s claws, sharp as knives, tore open a gruesome wound on her opponent’s shoulder before the other had any chance to react.
The succubus’s entire arm immediately went limp, her body sagging dangerously close to falling, but she managed to flap her wings a few times and steady herself.
The sensation of fingers ripping through skin was so vivid, the strangely fragrant blood blossomed in the air, and the succubus’s cry of pain was shockingly clear.
Yet Rita felt no satisfaction at all; the knot of frustration in her chest only grew heavier, pressing down until she could hardly breathe.
The succubus clutched her wounded shoulder with one hand, her eyes wide with shock as she glanced back at her own kin who had suddenly attacked her.
She only saw a face overtaken by rage, and felt a confusion so profound her mind couldn’t process it.
After a glance, the succubus gritted her teeth and flew off in the direction away from the Lord’s Mansion, leaving Rita far behind.
Her anguished scream caused the soldiers below, holding torches, to look up.
“What was that sound!”
“From the sky! It’s coming from above!”
“A succubus! There’s a succubus flying toward the Lord’s Mansion!”
But the succubus had already vanished without a trace during Rita’s brief moment of turning around.
Hearing the shouts below, Rita’s mind cleared somewhat.
Continuing the chase might not guarantee catching the other, and could even attract the soldiers’ attention. Now was clearly not the best time to pursue.
Damn it.
Rita cursed inwardly, then drew herself tight, transforming into a pink meteor streaking down into the empty alley she had come from.
Moments later, the soldiers had surrounded the alley.
“Who’s there!” the lead soldier shouted, raising his spear toward the shadow stepping out.
When he saw the figure’s true form, he was taken aback.
“Lady Rita?”
“It’s me.” Rita had folded away her wings and tail, stepping forward boldly.
“Seeing how casual she looks, it really is Lady Rita,” another soldier said without fear of her overhearing, glancing at the one holding the spear.
“To be safe, it might be a succubus trying to trick us,” the spear-bearer said, still aiming his weapon at Rita. “Lady Rita, why were you captured at the Lord’s Mansion?”
“Captured? When was I captured?” Rita blinked. “Are you talking about when I was suspected of assassinating Lady Cecilia, or when I climbed through her window?”
“It’s Lady Rita! Only Lady Rita would address the Fourth Princess by name!” The soldier lowered his spear, then, illuminated by torches and lanterns, noticed the bloodstains on Rita. “Lady Rita, you’re injured?”
“No, this is succubus blood.” Rita showed her uninjured arm and the white undershirt stained with strange blood.
“Where’s the succubus?”
“Ran off, went that way.” Rita pointed to the direction the succubus had escaped. “But forget that for now—come with me back to the Lord’s Mansion. Something’s wrong there.”
Looking at the direction Rita pointed, the opposite way from the Lord’s Mansion, and then at the strange blood on the otherwise unharmed Rita, the soldiers were full of questions. But this wasn’t the time for chatting.
“But Her Highness the Princess ordered us to stay here and handle those rioters.”
Why Princess Cecilia’s order? What rioters?
Rita knew nothing about tonight’s events.
Yet now, she had no desire to figure it all out. Beyond returning quickly to Cecilia’s side, nothing else mattered.
“Forget it, I’ll go alone. Lend me your sword.” Rita stepped past the lead soldier and took the military-issued sword he handed over without hesitation.
Rita knew the way back to the Lord’s Mansion well, but never had the path felt this long.
She pushed herself to her full speed—as fast as she could go as a succubus—yet the mansion seemed endlessly distant.
But every road has an end. The silhouette of the Lord’s Mansion grew larger before her eyes.
The stench nearby was even more revolting, a mix of faintly burnt protein smell and the iron tang of rust so strong it made her want to vomit.
It was the smell of blood and fire, fresh and dried blood mingled, steamed by the raging flames into a unique, acrid stench.
Rita had never been to hell, but if it existed, this must be its scent.
Her heart began to race uncontrollably—faster than even when Klose had pushed her onto the bed.
Passing the final stretch, the grand gates of the Lord’s Mansion loomed before her. Usually old yet tidy, the entrance was now a mess.
Marks left by weapons, traces of flames, splashes of blood—these stains spread like erratic paint on the ground, walls, everywhere Rita looked.
Several filthy corpses lay sprawled, telling silent stories of the chaos that had unfolded here.
In stark contrast, soldiers were lined up at the gate. Though weary, their faces shone with the joy of victory.
One spotted Rita and waved urgently. “Lady Rita! You’re alright! That’s a relief!”
Another noticed the sword she carried—the same as theirs—and his heart tightened, thinking of a comrade lost. “That sword is…”
“I didn’t bring mine tonight. The master lent me his,” Rita said quickly, no time to explain. “Where is the Princess?”
“The Princess is commanding the situation inside the mansion. Without her, we might really have been…” The soldier sighed in relief.
Phew. So things weren’t as bad as she feared.
Rita finally exhaled a breath she had been holding.
“Did you drive that succubus away, too?”
But the soldiers’ next words plunged Rita’s mood into the depths.
“What succubus? Where?”
Her mind buzzed again, the relief she’d just felt snatched away brutally.
Countless thoughts bubbled like soda in her head until one popped loudly, snapping her back to reality.
Rita glanced at the firmly closed gate, then without hesitation, climbed the wall with one hand.
Inside, guards shouted.
“Someone’s climbing up! Defend!”
Soldiers outside were startled by Rita and quickly shouted.
“Don’t shoot! It’s Lady Rita!”
Spears aimed at her lowered again. Some soldiers asked why she was in such a rush, but Rita ignored them all, sprinting into the Lord’s Mansion.
Inside, everything looked as before, as if nothing had happened. Yet the more normal it seemed, the stronger the ominous feeling swelling in Rita’s heart.
She didn’t dare imagine what awaited her. Behind this calm facade, could it be the scene she dreaded most?
Closer now—almost there.
Rita flung open Cecilia’s door, but the room was pitch black. The bed where Cecilia should have been was empty.
A maid, startled by Rita’s furious entrance, appeared. Upon seeing her safe, her worry instantly vanished.
“Lady Rita! You’re alright!”
“Where is the Princess?” Rita demanded, not realizing she was practically shouting.
The maid froze at Rita’s unusual tone. Seeing this, Rita raised her voice further.
“Where is Cecilia?”
“The Princess… she’s in the Conference Room, directing everything,” the maid stammered.
“Sorry!” Rita bit back a word of apology, leaving the shocked maid behind and darted toward the Conference Room.
Moments later, Rita stopped before the slightly ajar door.
She couldn’t help but recall the day a few days ago when she’d visited the brothel—the door had been left just like this.
“No, it can’t be.” Rita whispered, her voice trembling more than she realized.
Then, she reached out and pushed the door open.
She saw guards sprawled haphazardly on the floor.
And she saw Cecilia, sitting in the large chair behind the massive desk, her golden eyes fixed on her.
“Rita.” Cecilia’s voice was light and clear, like a robin’s song. Rising from her chair, she approached Rita slowly.
She raised her hand, gently brushing aside the silver hair that fell over Rita’s cheek and wiping the bloodstains from her face. “You look exhausted.”
Seeing Cecilia safe, Rita did not relax.
There was only one thought pounding in her mind.
Is this person before me truly Cecilia?
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