Chapter 8: The Princess’s “Education”

Dawn had just broken when the door to the bedchamber was pushed open.

Sylvia awoke from a light sleep, and upon opening her eyes, saw Ophelia standing at the doorway.

The queen was clad in a black royal authority gown, her silver hair styled high, her blood-colored eyes devoid of any emotion.

“Get up.”

Two simple words, carrying an undeniable pressure that brooked no refusal.

Sylvia hurriedly sat up, only to find that Avira had disappeared without a trace.

She was alone in the bed, with only a faint scent of blood lingering in the covers.

That scent was a stark reminder—last night, that madwoman had truly been there.

“Get dressed. Come with me.”

Ophelia turned and walked away without sparing her another glance.

Flustered, Sylvia fumbled into the palace gown prepared by a maid and staggered after the queen.

Her body was too weak—just a few steps left her gasping for breath.

They arrived at the royal city’s library.

The scale of the place exceeded Sylvia’s imagination.

Countless ancient books piled high, stretching from the floor up to heights she couldn’t see.

The air was thick with the old smell of parchment and ink.

“Sit.”

Ophelia gestured toward a table made of obsidian.

The surface was so smooth it reflected her image, and the cold touch made Sylvia shiver.

“From today onward, you will begin your princess education.”

The queen sat opposite her, producing a heavy Ancient Tome.

“First lesson: the history of the bloodline.”

Sylvia’s heart sank instantly.

History class?

In her past life, as Ignatius, a lowly soldier, the dullest thing he hated was theory and history.

He only cared about where the next meal was and if he’d survive the next charge.

Dynasties rising and falling, political strife—it all sounded boring.

What was worse—where was Avira?

The absence of that madwoman only made Sylvia more uneasy.

“The origins of the bloodline trace back to the era of the Divine War…” Ophelia began calmly, her voice flat and unchanging.

She flipped open the Ancient Tome, densely packed with archaic script.

Sylvia forced herself to concentrate, but her eyelids grew heavier by the moment.

This content was like a divine text—she recognized every character, but together they made no sense.

“The first generation of bloodline was born amidst the aftershocks of the Law of Darkness, granted eternal life…”

The queen’s voice echoed in her ears as Sylvia’s consciousness began to blur.

Her head slowly drooped, chin nearly touching her chest.

“Focus.”

Ophelia’s cold voice exploded in her mind.

“As my daughter, ignorance is a sin.”

A gentle yet irresistible mental force surged into her brain, instantly banishing drowsiness.

Sylvia forced herself to stay awake, not daring to blink.

“Continue listening.”

***

For the next two and a half hours, Sylvia experienced what it meant to endure time like years.

The queen used a form of Mental Projection magic to transform the dry historical text into immersive illusions.

She was forced to “live through” the birth of the bloodline.

She watched the first bloodline awaken from the Divine War’s aftermath, saw the founding of the earliest kingdom.

Then came the millennia-long war against humans, countless bloody battles replayed before her eyes.

It was too real.

The scent of blood, the sounds of slaughter, the dying wails—all her senses were overwhelmed.

Sylvia fought hard not to vomit, mentally cursing.

This is not a history class at all!

“The first lesson is over.”

Ophelia closed the Ancient Tome, and the Mental Projection faded.

“We’ll continue tomorrow, with the Divine War section.”

Sylvia slumped in her chair, feeling utterly drained.

But the break was only ten minutes.

Soon, an ancient-looking bloodline noble entered the library.

Tall and thin, dressed in extravagant court attire, every movement excessively graceful.

“Little Princess, I am the Camarilla Prince, your etiquette instructor.”

He gave Sylvia a standard noble bow, so smooth it was like a performance of art.

“Next is your course in royal etiquette.

“As a member of the bloodline royal family, you must master the protocol for all occasions.”

The Camarilla Prince pulled out an even thicker volume.

“First is the bow.

“There are thirteen different forms of Kneeling Salute, depending on the rank of the noble…”

Sylvia’s face immediately fell.

Was this ever going to end?

***

For the next three hours, she was forced to learn countless tedious etiquette rules.

When to bow, and at what angle.

Where to place her arms, where to direct her gaze…

Every detail was strictly regulated, no mistakes allowed.

“No, your left hand should lightly touch the hem of your gown, not clutch it tightly.”

“The angle is still off, it should be 45 degrees, not 40.”

“Don’t let your eyes wander; they must be focused and respectful.”

The Camarilla Prince corrected her endlessly, stricter than any drill sergeant.

Sylvia felt this was more exhausting than running five kilometers with thirty kilos on her back.

At least running only required going straight forward, no need to remember so many pointless rules.

“Well done, Little Princess. Your learning ability is impressive.”

After three hours, the Camarilla Prince was finally satisfied.

“Tomorrow we’ll study dining etiquette. There are thirty-two different ways to eat that you must master.”

Sylvia almost died on the spot.

Thirty-two?

Were these nobles so bored that even eating had to be this complicated?

The afternoon was art appreciation class.

The instructor was a bloodline scholar-like figure who took Sylvia to the royal city’s art gallery.

There were hundreds of priceless paintings on display.

“Art reflects the spirit of nobility. Little Princess must cultivate an elegant aesthetic.”

The instructor pointed at the first painting as he began to explain.

“This is the masterpiece ‘Blood-Colored Dusk’ from three thousand years ago. Notice the brushwork…”

Sylvia stared at the painting for a long time, her mind filled with only three thoughts:

Does this look like a person?

Are the colors pretty?

Can this be replaced with food?

She couldn’t endure it anymore and said casually:

“The red in this painting isn’t as beautiful as the blood on Sister Avira’s sword.”

The instructor froze for a moment, then his eyes suddenly lit up.

“Little Princess! What a profound statement!”

He excitedly gestured wildly.

“You’ve seen straight to the essence of art!”

“Forget technique and composition—they’re superficial.”

“True beauty strikes at the root of violent aesthetics!”

Sylvia: ???

I was just saying whatever came to mind. Why are you so excited?

“Little Princess possesses the Divinity Perspective, able to see the essence beyond appearances.”

“This talent—I’ve never seen it in my two thousand years of life!”

The instructor grew more and more enthusiastic, nearly dropping to his knees to salute her.

News of this quickly reached the queen and Avira.

Avira was thrilled all day and cut down ten Training Dummies in the practice field.

Ophelia directly ordered the priceless ‘Blood-Colored Dusk’ to be taken down and replaced with a massive Magic Crystal.

Inside the crystal was sealed a drop of Avira’s Essence of Avira, shining brilliantly under magical light.

“From today forward, this will be our prized possession.”

The queen said calmly.

Sylvia looked at the drop of blood and felt completely unsettled.

Is everyone in this family insane?

A single drop of blood as a piece of art?

But she soon noticed a pattern:

The more she behaved “unconventionally,” the more praise she received.

If that’s the case…

To finish these lessons sooner and get some sleep, Sylvia began to intentionally say nonsensical things.

“This painting reminds me of lunchtime.”

“Art is about making complex things simple, and simple things complex.”

“Whether something is beautiful depends on your mood—when you’re in a good mood, everything looks beautiful.”

As a result, she quickly gained the reputation within the Royal Family as the “mystical princess with unique and ethereal insights.”

Sylvia:

Forget it, as long as this class ends soon.