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Dawn had just broken when the door to the bedchamber was pushed open.
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Sylvia awoke from a light sleep, and upon opening her eyes, saw Ophelia standing at the doorway.
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The queen was clad in a black royal authority gown, her silver hair styled high, her blood-colored eyes devoid of any emotion.
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“Get up.”
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Two simple words, carrying an undeniable pressure that brooked no refusal.
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Sylvia hurriedly sat up, only to find that Avira had disappeared without a trace.
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She was alone in the bed, with only a faint scent of blood lingering in the covers.
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That scent was a stark reminder—last night, that madwoman had truly been there.
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“Get dressed. Come with me.”
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Ophelia turned and walked away without sparing her another glance.
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Flustered, Sylvia fumbled into the palace gown prepared by a maid and staggered after the queen.
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Her body was too weak—just a few steps left her gasping for breath.
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They arrived at the royal city’s library.
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The scale of the place exceeded Sylvia’s imagination.
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Countless ancient books piled high, stretching from the floor up to heights she couldn’t see.
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The air was thick with the old smell of parchment and ink.
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“Sit.”
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Ophelia gestured toward a table made of obsidian.
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The surface was so smooth it reflected her image, and the cold touch made Sylvia shiver.
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“From today onward, you will begin your princess education.”
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The queen sat opposite her, producing a heavy Ancient Tome.
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“First lesson: the history of the bloodline.”
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Sylvia’s heart sank instantly.
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History class?
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In her past life, as Ignatius, a lowly soldier, the dullest thing he hated was theory and history.
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He only cared about where the next meal was and if he’d survive the next charge.
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Dynasties rising and falling, political strife—it all sounded boring.
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What was worse—where was Avira?
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The absence of that madwoman only made Sylvia more uneasy.
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“The origins of the bloodline trace back to the era of the Divine War…” Ophelia began calmly, her voice flat and unchanging.
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She flipped open the Ancient Tome, densely packed with archaic script.
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Sylvia forced herself to concentrate, but her eyelids grew heavier by the moment.
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This content was like a divine text—she recognized every character, but together they made no sense.
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“The first generation of bloodline was born amidst the aftershocks of the Law of Darkness, granted eternal life…”
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The queen’s voice echoed in her ears as Sylvia’s consciousness began to blur.
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Her head slowly drooped, chin nearly touching her chest.
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“Focus.”
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Ophelia’s cold voice exploded in her mind.
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“As my daughter, ignorance is a sin.”
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A gentle yet irresistible mental force surged into her brain, instantly banishing drowsiness.
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Sylvia forced herself to stay awake, not daring to blink.
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“Continue listening.”
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***
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For the next two and a half hours, Sylvia experienced what it meant to endure time like years.
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The queen used a form of Mental Projection magic to transform the dry historical text into immersive illusions.
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She was forced to “live through” the birth of the bloodline.
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She watched the first bloodline awaken from the Divine War’s aftermath, saw the founding of the earliest kingdom.
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Then came the millennia-long war against humans, countless bloody battles replayed before her eyes.
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It was too real.
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The scent of blood, the sounds of slaughter, the dying wails—all her senses were overwhelmed.
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Sylvia fought hard not to vomit, mentally cursing.
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This is not a history class at all!
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“The first lesson is over.”
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Ophelia closed the Ancient Tome, and the Mental Projection faded.
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“We’ll continue tomorrow, with the Divine War section.”
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Sylvia slumped in her chair, feeling utterly drained.
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But the break was only ten minutes.
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Soon, an ancient-looking bloodline noble entered the library.
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Tall and thin, dressed in extravagant court attire, every movement excessively graceful.
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“Little Princess, I am the Camarilla Prince, your etiquette instructor.”
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He gave Sylvia a standard noble bow, so smooth it was like a performance of art.
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“Next is your course in royal etiquette.
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“As a member of the bloodline royal family, you must master the protocol for all occasions.”
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The Camarilla Prince pulled out an even thicker volume.
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“First is the bow.
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“There are thirteen different forms of Kneeling Salute, depending on the rank of the noble…”
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Sylvia’s face immediately fell.
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Was this ever going to end?
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***
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For the next three hours, she was forced to learn countless tedious etiquette rules.
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When to bow, and at what angle.
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Where to place her arms, where to direct her gaze…
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Every detail was strictly regulated, no mistakes allowed.
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“No, your left hand should lightly touch the hem of your gown, not clutch it tightly.”
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“The angle is still off, it should be 45 degrees, not 40.”
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“Don’t let your eyes wander; they must be focused and respectful.”
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The Camarilla Prince corrected her endlessly, stricter than any drill sergeant.
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Sylvia felt this was more exhausting than running five kilometers with thirty kilos on her back.
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At least running only required going straight forward, no need to remember so many pointless rules.
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“Well done, Little Princess. Your learning ability is impressive.”
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After three hours, the Camarilla Prince was finally satisfied.
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“Tomorrow we’ll study dining etiquette. There are thirty-two different ways to eat that you must master.”
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Sylvia almost died on the spot.
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Thirty-two?
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Were these nobles so bored that even eating had to be this complicated?
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The afternoon was art appreciation class.
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The instructor was a bloodline scholar-like figure who took Sylvia to the royal city’s art gallery.
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There were hundreds of priceless paintings on display.
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“Art reflects the spirit of nobility. Little Princess must cultivate an elegant aesthetic.”
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The instructor pointed at the first painting as he began to explain.
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“This is the masterpiece ‘Blood-Colored Dusk’ from three thousand years ago. Notice the brushwork…”
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Sylvia stared at the painting for a long time, her mind filled with only three thoughts:
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Does this look like a person?
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Are the colors pretty?
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Can this be replaced with food?
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She couldn’t endure it anymore and said casually:
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“The red in this painting isn’t as beautiful as the blood on Sister Avira’s sword.”
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The instructor froze for a moment, then his eyes suddenly lit up.
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“Little Princess! What a profound statement!”
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He excitedly gestured wildly.
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“You’ve seen straight to the essence of art!”
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“Forget technique and composition—they’re superficial.”
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“True beauty strikes at the root of violent aesthetics!”
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Sylvia: ???
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I was just saying whatever came to mind. Why are you so excited?
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“Little Princess possesses the Divinity Perspective, able to see the essence beyond appearances.”
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“This talent—I’ve never seen it in my two thousand years of life!”
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The instructor grew more and more enthusiastic, nearly dropping to his knees to salute her.
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News of this quickly reached the queen and Avira.
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Avira was thrilled all day and cut down ten Training Dummies in the practice field.
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Ophelia directly ordered the priceless ‘Blood-Colored Dusk’ to be taken down and replaced with a massive Magic Crystal.
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Inside the crystal was sealed a drop of Avira’s Essence of Avira, shining brilliantly under magical light.
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“From today forward, this will be our prized possession.”
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The queen said calmly.
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Sylvia looked at the drop of blood and felt completely unsettled.
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Is everyone in this family insane?
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A single drop of blood as a piece of art?
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But she soon noticed a pattern:
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The more she behaved “unconventionally,” the more praise she received.
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If that’s the case…
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To finish these lessons sooner and get some sleep, Sylvia began to intentionally say nonsensical things.
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“This painting reminds me of lunchtime.”
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“Art is about making complex things simple, and simple things complex.”
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“Whether something is beautiful depends on your mood—when you’re in a good mood, everything looks beautiful.”
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As a result, she quickly gained the reputation within the Royal Family as the “mystical princess with unique and ethereal insights.”
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Sylvia:
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Forget it, as long as this class ends soon.
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