Tuk¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°She¡¯s clever enough to play the part without letting emotions cloud her actions. We¡¯ll present her as a woman of quiet virtue, embodying the empire¡¯s ideals. The council will eat it up.¡±
¡°Very well,¡± Michaelli decides, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. ¡°Have her father informed discreetly. He should believe this is a genuine interest from me¡ªa quiet arrangement to test compatibility, no more.¡±
Tuk inclined her head, already considering the words she would use. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it. Lord Alaric is shrewd, but if we present this as a gesture of goodwill, he¡¯ll keep his ambitions contained.¡±
He¡¯s shrewd, but he¡¯ll never know what we¡¯re truly planning. Tuk¡¯s smile deepened as she imagined Alaric¡¯s gratitude¡ªpraise and gifts flowing her way. And if Michaelli ever discovered her dealings, she had already crafted excuses as deftly as she played the court. Didn¡¯t he say I need to get creative? As long as the results are there, His Highness will never care.
Michaelli nods approvingly. ¡°Excellent. Now, for the courtship. We¡¯ll need to stage a few ¡®chance¡¯ encounters. Ones the council will see, but that don¡¯t feel forced.¡± He taps his fingers together thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ll attend some of the seasonal gatherings, maybe even a hunt. I¡¯ll ensure she¡¯s in the vicinity without making it too obvious.¡±
¡°A perfect setting for a first meeting,¡± Tuk added, the scenes playing out in her mind. ¡°And during the hunt, perhaps a moment where you assist her¡ªa gesture that showcases gallantry.¡± A flicker of amusement crossed her face. And maybe start falling for her, she thought silently.
Michaelli chuckles, impressed by her vision. ¡°You do think of everything. It¡¯ll be a spectacle of restrained affection, just enough to keep the council engaged.¡± He pauses, his gaze sharpening. ¡°And if she¡¯s competent enough, we¡¯ll add a touch of mystery. Perhaps a rumor or two about letters exchanged between us. They¡¯ll lap it up like wine.¡±
This is starting to be a romantic plot I enjoyed! Tuk smiles, thrilled by the strategy. ¡°And if the council senses an air of secrecy, they¡¯ll be convinced you¡¯re taking her seriously.¡± She leans back, looking every bit as pleased as he. ¡°This way, they¡¯ll be too focused on this ¡®romance¡¯ to question anything else. The court will become its own distraction.¡±
Tuk¡¯s smile widened. ¡°If the council senses secrecy, they¡¯ll believe you¡¯re serious about her.¡± She leaned back, savoring the anticipation. ¡°This distraction will keep their eyes away from more pressing matters.¡±
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Michaelli¡¯s gaze hardened, a shadow crossing his features. ¡°Precisely. Let them waste their breath on courtship and whispers of scandal. By the time they realize the truth, it will already be too late¡ªwhat they hold dear will crumble in their hands, and they won¡¯t even know it was me who lit the fire.¡±
Tuk blinked, unsure what the prince meant. Her heartbeat quickened, though she forced her composure to remain intact. Something in his tone¡ªcold, calculated, and brimming with an unspoken threat¡ªgnawed at her resolve. Michaelli¡¯s laughter, low and dark, filled the chamber, curling around her like smoke from an unseen fire.
¡°This courtship is beginning to sound more advantageous by the minute,¡± he said, eyes locking with hers. ¡°You may bear the title of ¡®love advisor,¡¯ but we both know you¡¯re so much more.¡±
Tuk dipped her head in acknowledgment, masking her unease. ¡°And you, Your Highness, wear the crown but wield far greater power.¡±
With their plan now firmly in motion, they spent the remaining hours in hushed discussion, plotting each step with painstaking care. Their whispers were full of mirth and mutual admiration, bound by a shared understanding of power and deception. The council may think they¡¯ve finally directed Michaelli¡¯s path, but as Tuk and the prince¡¯s laughter filled the empty chamber, it was clear they were mere players in a chest they were playing.
What Tuk didn¡¯t realize was that Michaelli¡¯s mind, ever perceptive and calculating, had shifted gears. The man who trusted no one had, in a matter of months, calculatedly allowed Tuk into his inner circle. But tonight, something felt different. He scrutinized his confidant as though seeing them for the first time. His golden eyes followed the tilt of Tuk¡¯s head, the subtle grace in their gestures¡ªthe way a strand of hair tickled just behind their ear, brushed away absently as they spoke, and the spark of enthusiasm in their eyes, so at odds with the wearied cynicism of court.
These weren¡¯t affectations; they were truths, raw and unpolished, born from moments too natural to be contrived. Michaelli¡¯s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as Tuk shifted slightly, the candlelight catching the delicate curve of a jawline that had until now been cloaked in shadow.
The prince leaned back in his chair, his demeanor as unreadable as ever, while Tuk outlined another step in their plan. Yet his focus had already drifted. He caught the cadence of their voice, the fluid way they moved, the occasional softness in their tone when they spoke. All these pieces, unnoticed before, now fell into place in his mind, forming a picture he didn¡¯t yet fully understand but could no longer ignore.
A suspicion ignited¡ªa quiet, insistent thought that perhaps his brilliant advisor was not a man but a woman. The idea almost made him laugh, and his smirk deepened as the visual of Leon¡ªthe head historian with his similarly soft features¡ªflashed through his mind.
Still, Michaelli couldn¡¯t entirely shake the thought. For the first time, he wondered: was Tuk merely clever and ambitious, or were they something else entirely? His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile¡ªa dangerous, knowing smile¡ªbefore quickly disappearing. If there was a secret to unravel, Michaelli would unravel it. And if Tuk was playing a game, the prince vowed he would be the one to win.
The curtain had been drawn on the stage, and soon the court would witness the dance unfold, never realizing they were all part of the intricate design crafted by the prince and Tuk. Without even realizing it, Tuk''s suggestions would create a significant impact¡ªnot just on individual kingdoms, but across the entire empire. In time, this influence would pave the way for women to hold positions of power, using the prince''s authority and dominance as the catalyst. But that change lay in the future...
With an almost imperceptible nod, they turned from the candlelit room, their footsteps echoing with a promise: not of conquest, but of absolute dominion.
Power would no longer be taken; it would be crafted.
And as Michaelli¡¯s eyes lingered on Tuk¡¯s retreating figure, he resolved to uncover the truth behind his advisor. For in a world where masks and shadows ruled, even he could be surprised¡ªand that, he thought with a smirk, made the game all the more intoxicating.
The world would learn that sometimes, the most dangerous weapon is not the sword or the crown, but the union of two minds sharp enough to wield both.
Chapter 36: The Last Princess of the Ardenii
The Princess of the Ardenii, now one of a concubine of the King of Marceau, sat in her chamber, her six-year-old son Michaelli perched on her lap. She was a remnant of a tribe that once stood proud and powerful¡ªa matriarchal society unlike any other in a world dominated by men.
The Ardenii, a legendary tribe, had thrived deep within the ancient forest between Crystaliana and Chalcedony. Known for their wisdom and resilience, they were revered as protectors of nature¡¯s secrets and guardians of sacred groves. Their ways were rooted in balance and harmony, believing the forest to be a living entity that guided and protected them as its chosen daughters.
But that legacy had been shattered. Long ago, the Ardenii had been wiped out by war, their lands razed, their people slaughtered. The King of Marceau, seeking their rumored power, had captured the last of their leaders. She was made a concubine, stripped of her title and dignity. She bore not a daughter to carry on the Ardenii¡¯s legacy, but a son.
Now, that son sat before her, his words a reflection of the harsh, male-dominated society of Marceau.
¡°Listen, Elli, you should treat women with respect. What you did is wrong,¡± the princess said firmly, addressing her son after witnessing his mistreatment of a servant girl.
¡°But my advisor said women aren¡¯t worth anything, Mother. They only exist to produce,¡± young Michaelli replied, tilting his head in confusion. ¡°We can treat them however we want.¡±
The princess¡¯s heart ached at his words. She gently pulled Michaelli closer, placing him firmly on her lap. ¡°Then, my child, are you going to treat your mother the same way you treated that girl?¡±
Michaelli frowned, shaking his head vigorously. ¡°No, Mother! You¡¯re not the same as everyone else. You¡¯re the best, above them all. I was told that I¡¯m above everyone too and that one day I¡¯ll rule over all the weak. I¡¯ll need to dominate them to be a true leader.¡±
The princess sighed deeply, brushing her fingers through his dark hair. ¡°And how am I different, my child? We both have one head, two arms, and two legs. I am the same as the others, and so are you. The only difference is that we dress in fine clothes and eat as much as we want while others cannot. Shouldn¡¯t it be our duty to share what we have and be grateful to the women who gave us life? Elli¡ªyou grew inside my womb, a woman you seem to think so little of. That makes you no different from anyone else. Didn¡¯t I tell you about my people?¡±
Michaelli''s brow furrowed as he listened to his mother¡¯s words, confusion flickering in his young eyes. ¡°Your people? The Ardenii?¡± he asked hesitantly, recalling the stories she had told him before, though they often seemed more like fairy tales than reality.
The princess nodded, a sad smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Yes, my people, the Ardenii. We were once strong, proud, and united. We lived in harmony with the world, valuing every life equally¡ªman or woman, strong or weak. Women, Elli, were not just mothers or daughters to us. They were leaders, healers, warriors, and sages. They were the lifeblood of our tribe. We believed in balance, in respect for all living things.¡±
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She paused, her gaze distant, as if seeing her homeland in her mind¡¯s eye. ¡°But that balance was destroyed by those who thought like your advisors¡ªthose who saw women as tools or possessions, not as equals. They tore our lands apart, believing themselves superior. That is why the Ardenii are no more.¡±
Michaelli shifted uncomfortably, the weight of her words sinking in. ¡°But... the advisors say that¡¯s how things are supposed to be. That women can¡¯t lead or fight like men can.¡±
His mother¡¯s eyes hardened, her voice gaining an edge. ¡°And who decides that? Who claims the right to determine another¡¯s worth? Let me tell you something, Elli. Strength is not just muscle or might. True strength lies in compassion, wisdom, and the courage to protect what is right, even if the world stands against you. That is what the Ardenii believed. That is what I want you to believe.¡±
The boy looked down, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. ¡°But... how can I do that when everyone else thinks differently?¡±
The princess cupped his face gently, lifting his gaze to meet hers. ¡°It will not be easy, my son. To live with honor in a world of cruelty takes more courage than any battle. But you are my child, and I know you have the heart to rise above. Promise me, Elli, that you will think before you act, that you will remember the lessons of the Ardenii and the worth of every person.¡±
Michaelli swallowed hard, her words stirring something deep within him. He nodded slowly. ¡°I... I promise, Mother.¡±
The princess smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. ¡°Good. Remember, my son, a leader who rules with respect will never lack for loyalty. And a heart that understands others will never be truly alone.¡±
As Michaelli nestled closer to his mother, the seeds of her wisdom began to take root. Whether they would grow or be buried under the weight of Marceau¡¯s harsh world remained uncertain, but for now, the boy clung to his mother¡¯s words like a lifeline.
And then, the bright day suddenly darkened, swallowed by a suffocating night.
¡°Promise me... you will live, Elli,¡± his mother¡¯s trembling voice echoed, slicing through the oppressive silence.
Michaelli froze, wide-eyed. Before him, his beautiful mother sat slumped on the floor, her body drenched in crimson. A dagger jutted from her chest, her delicate hands gripping the hilt. Blood trickled from the corner of her lips as she coughed, her strength slipping away with every passing second.
¡°M-Mother?¡± The now thirteen-year-old Michaelli¡¯s small hands trembled violently as he looked down at them, his mind struggling to grasp what he saw.
She smiled weakly, her eyes shimmering with both pain and unshakable love. ¡°Forget everything... and live, Elli,¡± she whispered, her voice a fragile thread holding firm against the abyss.
Her hands slipped from the dagger¡¯s hilt, and her body crumpled to the ground. Michaelli¡¯s breath hitched as his vision blurred, tears spilling freely down his cheeks.
[[Present Day]]
Michaelli woke with a start, gasping for air, his body drenched in a cold sweat. His chest rose and fell in rapid bursts as he clawed his way out of the dream that clung to him like a phantom. The image of his mother, her blood-stained smile and final words, lingered at the edge of his mind, refusing to fade.
He was back in his pavilion, seated stiffly at his desk. His loyal attendant, Nixon, stood nearby, a steady presence grounding Michaelli in the present.
¡°Your Highness, the hunt will begin in a few minutes,¡± Nixon announced, his voice calm yet authoritative.
Michaelli¡¯s golden-brown eyes, sharp and calculating, flickered with a fleeting softness before hardening once more. The ghostly echoes of his mother¡¯s ideals whispered through his mind, haunting yet persistent.
Her world was not his. In this one, dominance was the law, and submission was death. Weakness had no place here. He had been weak once, but not now. Not anymore.
Still, her words clung to him like a stubborn ember, refusing to be extinguished. Bend, but don¡¯t break.
With a measured breath, Michaelli rose, his movements deliberate, as he prepared for the hunt. Someday, he would prove to her that he had listened.
Chapter 37: The Court...ship? Nope, it鈥檚 a banquet!
Neigh!!!
The hunting grounds bustled with energy, horses snorting and stamping around us. The competition was in full swing, and here I was, face-to-face with His Highness¡¯s steed, a big, glossy black horse named Nightfall. His coat gleamed more than mine on a good hair day, and his body¡ªwell-toned, muscular, and downright luxurious. It looked like it belonged in a stable catalog.
¡°Are you even a real horse?¡± I mused, reaching up to pat his silky mane. ¡°If you weren¡¯t so enormous, I¡¯d make you my pet. I¡¯d carry you around, Nightfall.¡±
Nightfall snorted, answering with what sounded suspiciously like a judgmental eye-roll. But he didn¡¯t move away; instead, he let me hug his massive head. He was huge, sure, and he smelled like a horse, but¡ not in the way I¡¯d expected. No, he didn¡¯t have the usual musty odor that clung to the horses back in the modern world¡¯s riding clubs.
He smelled¡ like cologne. Expensive cologne. I sniffed closer, amused. ¡°I bet your shampoo costs more than my salary back at home.¡±
¡°What are you doing?¡± I jumped back, my cozy moment with Nightfall interrupted by an unmistakably unimpressed voice. Michaelli stood there, eyebrow arched in that infuriating way. ¡°Is the preparation done?¡±
Straightening up, I cleared my throat and composed myself. ¡°Yes, Your Highness. Lady Evelyn of House Alaric is in the fourth tent along with the other ladies.¡±
I remembered my last visit to Lord Alaric¡¯s estate, where I¡¯d arranged to inform him of our ¡°mutual agreement¡± and collect my reward. As part of the arrangement, I¡¯d advised him to prepare his daughter for the upcoming hunt. It seems he took my suggestion quite seriously¡ªLady Evelyn is now here, dressed to impress.
More pressing was whether she¡¯d actually taken my advice about the prince. Knowing his infamous temper, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how this would play out for her, but she seemed well-informed about the palace dynamics. Maybe she had a plan of her own? Either way, she was here now, and I¡¯d like to think I had something to do with that¡ probably.
Michaelli gave me a long, assessing look, glancing between Nightfall and me. ¡°Good. Now, move,¡± he said, slipping on his gloves with practiced ease. ¡°Go back to the pavilion and keep an eye on things while I am away,¡± he added as he mounted Nightfall, his movements so smooth he made it look effortless¡ªlike he was riding just an ordinary horse, not this massive horse. I couldn¡¯t even meet Nightfall eyes-to-eye.
I hesitated, not entirely sure what my role here was supposed to be since the preparation was already done. ¡°Ah¡ Your Highness, which tent should I go to? Could I maybe stay and enjoy the ladies¡¯ company?¡±
I looked up at his imposing figure, doing my best to hide my excitement. Honestly, I missed chatting with girls my age¡ªthe kind of conversations that didn¡¯t revolve around muscles, swords, and relentless training. Why was the prince¡¯s palace practically a no-women zone anyway? Even here, it was like testosterone central.
¡°I mean,¡± I began casually, ¡°the whole ¡®keeping an eye¡¯ thing could probably be handled by, I don¡¯t know, those people.¡± I waved vaguely toward the ever-watchful guards nearby. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly your guard, after all.¡± My eyes flicked longingly to the distant table in the ladies¡¯ tent, piled high with pastries and treats. ¡°And¡ their food does look¡ really good.¡±
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The prince narrowed his eyes, clearly catching on to my not-so-subtle enthusiasm. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it,¡± he said, his tone as dry as the desert. ¡°Stay at my pavilion. Nixon will be nearby.¡±
My shoulders sagged a little at the royal buzzkill, but inspiration struck almost immediately. ¡°Well¡ could I at least eat from your provisions, Your Highness?¡± I gave him my best I-haven¡¯t-eaten-in-days look. ¡°I skipped breakfast because of the sudden orders and all.¡±
He rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. ¡°Do you really have to ask?¡± he grumbled, waving me off like I was an annoying fly. ¡°Eat whatever you want.¡± And with that, he nudged Nightfall forward, riding off with that infuriatingly majestic aura he always managed to pull off.
As soon as the prince was out of sight, a grin spread across my face, and I practically skipped toward his pavilion. Jackpot! His tent looked like it had been plucked straight out of a royal banquet. Dishes gleamed under the soft lamplight, each one more mouthwatering than the last. Forget keeping an eye on the council¡ªI was about to keep both eyes on this feast.
I dove right in, savoring every bite like a starving stray invited to a gourmet dinner. Between bites of flaky pastries and juicy roasted meats, announcements about the event filtered through the air.
¡°These people are insane,¡± I muttered, stuffing a tart into my mouth. ¡°Hunting beasts? What kind of lunacy is this? I prefer watching them afar¡± I pictured a giant tiger, the kind you¡¯d see lounging lazily at a zoo. With a shrug, I decided it didn¡¯t matter. Let them have their death matches. Me? I was perfectly content surviving with my muscles¡ªbrain muscles, mostly, but the arms were coming along nicely, thank you very much.
¡°Oh, here we go,¡± I mumbled as I peeked outside, a bowl of green grapes in hand. I happily munched away, my eyes on Lady Evelyn and the prince, who were about to cross paths in what I¡¯d imagined would be a scene straight out of a romance novel.
Evelyn rushed toward her father, her ribbon fluttering dramatically as she attempted to offer it as a token of support. But fate had other plans. She crashed right into the prince, who caught her¡ªwell, less ¡°caught¡± and more ¡°picked her up like a sack of turnips.¡±
¡°The hell?¡± I muttered, nearly choking on a grape. Where were the hearts? The sparkles? The moment? Instead, it looked more like a scene from a dodging-the-ball match. Sure, he accepted the ribbon, but romance? Not even close. With a dramatic sigh, I retreated back to my plush sanctuary. The romance was overrated here. Let''s give up.
¡°Now, for the exciting part!¡± boomed a voice from outside, snapping my attention back to the commotion. I peeked out again, just as curious as the rest of the crowd.
¡°The palace has received word of a sighting of Onyxariel!¡± Gasps rippled through the nobles like a well-rehearsed wave.
¡°Ony-what now?¡± I muttered, frowning.
¡°Yes! The legendary black griffin with a golden beak that shines like molten fire! Its midnight feathers shimmer under the moonlight, while its haunting call echoes across the mountains. A creature of mystery and power, an omen of change!¡± The announcer¡¯s voice was dripping with drama.
Apparently, this Onyxariel wasn¡¯t just any beast¡ªit was some mythical avian on steroids. What even is a griffin? I think I¡¯ve heard of it before¡ªprobably some kind of bird. The nobles were positively swooning as the announcer continued his over-the-top performance.
¡°Who will brave the hunt? Who among you dares to face this legendary creature?¡±
¡°Not me, that¡¯s for sure,¡± I quipped under my breath, plopping onto the prince¡¯s sofa with a plate of candied fruits. ¡°They can keep their terrifying death-bird. I¡¯ll be over here, making history as the first person to demolish an entire royal feast solo.¡±
Lying back with my borrowed library book and a platter of pastries, I let the distant cheers and excited chatter fade into the background. Let them chase their mythical griffin. For me, luxury was the ultimate conquest.
Time slipped by, and before I knew it, my eyes started to droop. The book is filled with words so deep and convoluted I can barely understand half of it. Soon, I find myself dozing off...
¡°Hey,¡± An annoying nudge poked insistently at my shoulder.
¡°Hey!¡± I grumbled, swatting the hand away and rolling to the other side, determined to stay in my blissful half-sleep.
¡°Historian Tuk, are you planning to wake up, or should I send you to the afterlife so you won¡¯t have to wake up again?¡±
I snap awake, bolting upright and sending a few leftover grapes rolling off the bowl. Lord Nixon stands over me, his face shadowed by the light from the tent behind him. He¡¯s looking at me with his usual annoyed expression. ¡°Enjoying yourself, are we? While everyone else is working like horses.¡± He thrusts an envelope into my hands. ¡°Deliver this to His Highness before the third lap of the hunt begins. Make sure he receives it immediately.¡±
I stare groggily at the neat, sealed envelope he¡¯s pressed into my hand. ¡°What¡¯s thi¡ª¡±
Before I can even finish my question, another warrior arrives, pulling Lord Nixon¡¯s attention away, and they hurry off together without so much as a backward glance.
¡°Rude,¡± I muttered, flicking a grape stem in the direction he¡¯d gone. It dropped like a dead fly to the ground, a far cry from the majestic flick His Highness had pulled off in the past.
¡°Tsk! How did he even do it?¡± Feeling more annoyed, I turned the envelope over in my hands. My breath hitched when I caught sight of the insignia stamped on the seal¡ªa bold, unmistakable mark.
The Emperor¡¯s seal.
¡°What?!¡± I nearly dropped it. ¡°Why do I have to deliver this? Isn¡¯t this the kind of super-important letter they hire couriers for?!¡±
Chapter 38: The right arrogant jerk
Upon discovering the importance of the letter, Tuk sprang from her seat and dashed outside. The sharp sunlight hit her face like a slap, drawing a groan from her lips. Great, just what I need¡ªbright sun after finally having a decent sleep. Her body felt stiff, a direct consequence of the feast she couldn''t resist. All those roasted lamb and steak are making me pay now.
¡°Where the hell can I find him?¡± Tuk muttered, squinting as she took in the sea of tents and pavilions. The mountains loomed around her, green and unfamiliar. Why did it have to be a place I¡¯ve never been before? The scale of it all felt as if she were searching for a needle in a haystack¡ªif that needle wore an arrogant smirk and led an army.
She thought about hunting down Lord Nixon for more instructions but dismissed it. Finding the prince should be easier¡ªat least he''s flashy enough to spot. ¡°Excuse me!¡± she called to a warrior stationed under a canopy. The man, broad-shouldered and clad in armor that gleamed even in the shade, raised an eyebrow.
¡°What round is the hunt in now? I need to find His Highness¡ªit''s urgent.¡±
He tilted his head, glancing at her rumpled state. ¡°The third round is about to begin, my lord.¡±
¡°What?!¡± Tuk¡¯s eyes widened, her voice cracking as the weight of her blunder sank in.
¡°Is it that critical?¡± he asked, the skepticism in his voice thick enough to cut.
She nodded frantically. ¡°Yes, absolutely! Where''s that guy, I mean, his highness?¡±
He sighed, rattling off directions as if reciting a list: ¡°Go straight, right after the fifth pavilion, past the flagpole, then left. There¡¯s a large pavilion big enough to seat a hundred warriors, turn right¡ªthat¡¯s probably where His Highness is stationed.¡±
¡°Thank you!¡± Tuk shouted over her shoulder, sprinting away.
Straight, right, left¡ left¡wait, was it the fourth pavilion or the fifth? Was there a flagpole before or after that? She huffed, the vest pressing the royal-sealed letter into her chest. Why did Nixon pick me for this errand?! I am bad at navigation! Her mind flashed with a vision of her boot connecting with Nixon¡¯s shin. When this is over, I¡¯ll kick his pompous¡ª!
Ahead, she spotted a cluster of warriors on horseback, their mounts stamping and snorting, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the chase. The most important person should be in front, right? She weaved through them, her breath ragged and legs burning. The first face she saw at the front made her stomach drop.
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Arrogant, yes. Handsome, no. Not the right arrogant jerk.
¡°Where¡¯s His Highness?¡± she muttered, scanning desperately to the left. Then she spotted him¡ªPrince Michaelli, riding his horse tall and princely with his typical, maddeningly smug posture. He seemed near yet somehow impossibly far, like a mirage of arrogance on horseback.
¡°Damn it,¡± she whispered. I took a wrong turn. Nixon¡¯s words buzzed in her head, his voice annoyingly crisp: ¡°Deliver this to His Highness before the third lap. Immediately.¡±
Her eyes darted to the nearest stable. With a groan, she mounted the smallest horse she could find, though its size still felt absurd. Why did noble horses always seem as massive as carabaos?
¡°My lord, that horse belongs to Lord Recan¡ª¡± someone called out, their voice a mix of alarm and disbelief.
¡°Apologies! Urgent royal business!¡± Tuk shouted, digging her heels in and urging the horse forward.
The ground shook beneath the rhythmic thunder of hooves. The wind whipped past her face as the horse broke into a gallop. Tuk barely had time to adjust; this horse was nothing like the ones she¡¯d ridden back at the club. A sudden trumpet blast startled the animal, and before she could steer it clear, it reared and surged forward with the wave of charging warriors.
¡°W-wait! Not that way!¡± Tuk yelped, pulling desperately at the reins. But the horse, evidently convinced it was a champion racer, ignored her. It barreled into the forest, keeping pace with the frenzied riders.
The deeper they ventured, the more the forest seemed alive¡ªbranches twisting like skeletal fingers, shadows darting across the undergrowth, and the faint rustle of unseen creatures. Leaves slapped her face, branches clawed at her arms, and the smell of damp earth filled her nose. Tuk yanked the reins, finally halting the horse in a small clearing.
She glanced around, her stomach sinking. Everywhere she looked was the same¡ªtangled vines, towering trees, and shifting shadows. ¡°I¡¯m lost,¡± she muttered, her voice flat with disbelief.
She glared at the horse. ¡°You¡ why did you have to follow those lunatics?¡±
The horse flicked its ears dismissively, snorting as if to say, Not my fault you¡¯re a terrible navigator. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t give me that attitude!¡± she snapped, rubbing her temples. Even the horse had an attitude. Of course, it does. It had been startled by the trumpet like a pampered royal hearing commoners.
Tuk exhaled sharply, trying to calm her nerves. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s just go back the way we came,¡± she muttered, pulling the reins with the decisiveness of someone who was definitely not sure what they were doing. The horse, unimpressed by her leadership, plodded forward. But the deeper they ventured, the more the forest seemed to twist and morph, each step leading to an eerie sameness.
¡°Alright, horsy, I need you to channel your animal instinct and get us out of here. Otherwise, I¡¯ll paint your hooves rainbow and make you the laughingstock of the stables.¡± She shot a glare at the horse, who seemed unimpressed. Still, it snorted, pawed the ground, and took off suddenly.
¡°Too fast! TOO FAST!¡± Tuk shouted, bouncing wildly as she clung to the horse¡¯s mane, her fingers aching from the death grip. They swerved around a tree so wide it could house a small inn.
¡°Stop! STOP!¡± She tugged the reins frantically, and the horse reared, nearly sending her somersaulting over its head. She landed with an ungraceful thud, groaning as pain radiated from her backside, feeling her ponytail half undone and hair standing at odd angles.
¡°You little¡ª¡± Tuk¡¯s complaint died in her throat as something cold and slimy slithered down the back of her neck. ¡°Aaarrrgh!¡± She leapt up, flailing and clawing at her skin. The horse, startled by her outburst, bolted into the trees with a parting snort of good luck, fool.
As she stomped around, still battling the phantom chill, her foot landed on something that gave a distinct, gut-wrenching crack.
What now?
The ground spun, and suddenly, the forest flipped upside down. Tuk found herself hanging in midair, leaves spinning around her like a mocking dance.
¡°Fantastic,¡± Tuk grumbled, swinging helplessly. ¡°This is just great.¡±
Chapter 39: The Hunt Every Man Wants
Michaelli listened to the rustling leaves and the distant calls of unseen creatures. The canopy above cast shifting patterns across the forest floor as the royal hunters advanced with practiced stealth. The snort of a horse broke the tension, every ear pricked for the faintest sound.
The Prince led the group astride a jet-black stallion, its muscles taut and coiled like a bowstring, mirroring its master¡¯s anticipation. This was no ordinary hunt¡ªthey sought the Onyxariel, the legendary black griffin. Its wings were said to stretch as vast as shadows, capable of blanketing the sky, with a golden beak gleaming brighter than any royal seal.
¡°Nightfall, let¡¯s go,¡± Michaelli muttered, urging his steed forward. To him, this was more than a hunt; it was prophecy taking shape. Tonight, I will claim the Onyxariel.
¡°Awoooo¡¡±
Michaelli raised his hand, signaling the group to halt. Silence swallowed the woods, thick and absolute. Then, a sharp, piercing cry shattered the stillness, reverberating like a spectral warning.
Michaelli¡¯s grin turned predatory as he gestured for his riders to spread out. The thrill of the hunt coursed through his veins. ¡°It¡¯s close,¡± he whispered, his eyes gleaming with challenge. The air seemed to grow heavier, the forest holding its breath.
¡°Awoohuhu¡¡±
Michaelli froze mid-step. The sound, once fierce and wild, now wavered into a strange, whimpering wail. Suspicion replaced his thrill as he crept toward the source, dagger ready, senses razor-sharp. Leaves crunched underfoot as he carefully parted the branches.
¡°Awohuhu¡aah! Your Highness? Oh, thank goodness!¡±
Michaelli¡¯s jaw tightened. For a long moment, he simply stared, his sharp mind noting the oddity of the sound before he fully processed the sight in front of him. Dangling upside-down from a crude rope trap¡ªmeant for small hunt¡ªwas Tuk, his hapless advisor, swaying back and forth like a deranged pendulum.
¡°You¡what are you doing up there?¡± His tone was flat, his patience hanging by a thread.
¡°I¡ªI was looking for you, Your Highness!¡± Tuk stammered, flailing slightly. ¡°But, uh¡ first, could you help me get down? I think all the blood is rushing to my head.¡±
Michaelli pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh so long and deep it seemed to ask the heavens for strength. Slowly, he unsheathed his dagger, tilting it lazily in Tuk¡¯s direction.
¡°Wait, Your Highness!¡± Tuk yelped, his eyes widening with alarm. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously going to throw that, are you?¡±
Michaelli arched a brow, his expression neutral but his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Do you think so little of me? If I wanted you dead, you¡¯d already be on the ground.¡± He twirled the dagger deftly. ¡°Now hold still. I¡¯m an excellent shot¡ªwhen people don¡¯t wiggle.¡±
¡°It can kill me! I¡¯ll die both ways! If I fall headfirst¡ª¡±
Before Tuk could finish his frantic protests, the woods shifted.
A shadow passed overhead, blotting out the dappled light. A rush of wind swept through the trees, bending branches and sending a cascade of leaves swirling in gold and green. Michaelli¡¯s steed, Nightfall, whinnied and danced nervously, its hooves stamping into the earth.
Michaelli stiffened, his grip tightening on the reins. His dagger lowered, momentarily forgotten as his sharp gaze swept the darkening sky.
A low hum built in the air¡ªdeep and foreboding, like the rumble of distant thunder.
¡°Y-Your Highness¡¡± Tuk¡¯s voice cracked as he pointed a trembling finger skyward. ¡°That¡¯s not a dragon, is it?¡±
The Onyxariel descended, circling above them like a storm-given flesh. Its wings carved through the air with an ominous grace, sunlight glinting off dark feathers threaded with veins of gold. Its golden beak gleamed¡ªa warlord¡¯s crown forged for battle, fierce and unyielding.
Tuk stared at the flying beast¡ªa creature that was clearly not a dragon but more like the body of a lion with wings, its massive shadow blotting out the sunlight as it descended from the skies. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a resigned sigh and watery eyes, she muttered, ¡°Why is it always me?¡±
Tuk, clinging desperately tried to hold to the rope that makes his body wave frantically. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there! Do something!¡± he shouted desperately forgetting for a moment that he was talking to a prince, not a stupid friend.
¡°Calm down. You¡¯re perfectly safe.¡±
¡°Perfectly safe? It¡¯s LOOKING at me!¡± Tuk screeched, her gaze locking onto the griffin¡¯s piercing eyes. The beast¡¯s head tilted, studying her dangling form with unnerving intent. The forest seemed to hold its breath as Tuk¡¯s legs flailed uselessly in the air. ¡°Oh no, no, no¡¡±
A deafening roar snapped her out of her panic. Michaelli urged Nightfall into the clearing, his posture regal but brimming with lethal intent. His gaze locked onto the griffin, a silent challenge emanating from his smirk.
He drew his black dagger, its obsidian runes pulsing faintly with an otherworldly glow. Uttering a sharp command in an ancient tongue, the blade began to shimmer, dissolving into a swirling, liquid form. The dark substance writhed like a living entity, twisting and coalescing until it solidified into a gleaming sword. Without hesitation, Michaelli slashed through the air, the blade emitting a low, resonant hum of restrained power as he surged toward the beast.
The Onyxariel twisted in mid-air, dodging his strike with infuriating grace. It dove, talons extended like jagged spears now aiming to the prince. Michaelli ducked just in time, the claws raking deep into the earth behind him.
The beast lunged again, its wings stirring a gale that whipped through the clearing. Michaelli then took one step forward and swung his sword. The runes glowed faintly as the weapon rippled and reshaped in his hands, flowing like liquid metal. Michaelli narrowed his eyes, and his weapon rippled, shifting from a spear into a gleaming whip blade. The segmented metal extended and coiled like a serpent, glowing faintly as it responded to his movements.
¡°Okay, what the hell is happening?¡± Tuk muttered, wide-eyed as she watched the prince manipulate the weapon like an extension of himself.
The whipblade struck with precision, coiling around the griffin¡¯s talons. A furious roar echoed as the beast faltered, its wings churning the air into chaos. Michaelli pulled sharply, his movements fluid and unrelenting, dragging the Onyxariel into a spiraling descent.
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Michaelli released the whipblade, letting it retract and reform into a sword just as the griffin lunged again. Its beak snapped dangerously close to his head, but he sidestepped with an ease that made the battle look more like a performance.
From above, Tuk watched the exchange with a mix of awe and disbelief. Michaelli moved like a dancer, every strike and dodge calculated to perfection. She couldn¡¯t help but notice the faint smirk on his lips even as the griffin bore down on him.
¡°Why does he look so smug?¡± she muttered under her breath.
The griffin lashed out again, forcing Michaelli to leap back. He landed gracefully, his expression unshaken.
¡°Stop enjoying this!¡± Tuk yelled, her voice carrying over the chaos.
Michaelli finally glanced up at her, amusement flickering in his eyes. ¡°I told you to stay still. Do you always talk this much? You¡¯re as noisy as a gaggle of gossiping noblewomen.¡±
Tuk bristled, swallowing the sharp retort bubbling in her throat. Arguing with the infuriating prince wouldn¡¯t free her. Deciding it was wiser to focus on escaping while the two beasts clashed below, she tightened her grip on the rope and scanned her bindings, searching for a solution.
Her thoughts screeched to a halt.
¡°Wait¡ why is it coming at me?!¡± she shrieked as the Onyxariel¡¯s piercing gaze snapped to her. Dangling helplessly, Tuk¡¯s heart thundered in her chest as the creature flared its colossal wings, its muscles coiling like a spring ready to strike.
¡°No¡ stay back!¡± she yelled, thrashing against her bindings, panic seizing her chest.
Michaelli¡¯s smirk deepened, the faint glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as the beast lunged. Before it could reach its target, Michaelli intercepted it mid-charge. His whipblade shimmered in his grip, morphing into a curved, scythe-like blade. With one sweeping arc, he clipped the creature¡¯s wing, sending a cascade of black diamond-like feathers spiraling down.
From her precarious vantage point, Tuk¡¯s frantic eyes tracked the Onyxariel¡¯s movements. In the chaos, she noticed something¡ªa subtle shift in its hind legs before each attack. ¡°Its balance!¡± she blurted out without thinking. ¡°It shifts its weight to the back legs before it strikes!¡±
Michaelli¡¯s eyes flicked to her for the briefest moment, a sharp smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Lucky guess,¡± he murmured, turning back to the beast.
In one fluid motion, his whipblade lashed out again, slicing with surgical precision through the tendon of the Onyxariel¡¯s hind leg. The creature screeched in pain, its wings flailing wildly as it faltered in the air.
¡°Bye,¡± Michaelli said with a smirk, surging forward with the grace of a predator. He leaped onto the thrashing griffin¡¯s back, his movements as fluid as water despite the chaos. The Onyxariel bucked violently, but Michaelli used the momentum to vault higher, closing the gap to the dangling figure bound by tangled ropes.
His weapon shifted seamlessly back into a dagger. With a single, decisive stroke, he severed the rope that held Tuk captive. She plummeted with a yelp, and before she could hit the ground, Michaelli caught her mid-air with a firm grip.
But something made him falter. His hand pressed against her chest briefly, his fingers brushing something unexpected¡ªa shape too soft and out of place. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but he quickly adjusted, sliding his grip to her waist with practiced ease, his expression unreadable.
Tuk, too stunned to speak, clung to his arm as he landed gracefully, her heart pounding from more than just the fall. She was too shaken to notice the subtle shift in Michaelli¡¯s demeanor or the sharp focus in his golden eyes as they lingered on her.
¡°You¡¡± Michaelli began, his voice low but cutting through the chaos around them. He set her down gently, yet his hands didn¡¯t release her immediately. His grip was firm, deliberate, as if anchoring her in place.
Tuk blinked, her instincts finally kicking realizing their position. ¡°What?¡± she blurted, her voice shaking as she attempted to break the moment. But the question hung awkwardly in the air, unanswered.
¡°You¡¯re heavier than I thought,¡± Michaelli muttered, finally letting go of her.
Tuk¡¯s mouth fell open, her indignation flaring like a struck match. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re welcome, Your Highness,¡± she snapped, brushing dirt from her arms with exaggerated flair. ¡°Happy to risk my life so you can look good in front of your warriors.¡±
Michaelli raised a brow, his calm demeanor entirely unshaken. ¡°Risk your life? You were dangling like bait.¡±
Tuk glared, a flush of frustration coloring her cheeks. ¡°Bait is useful! You¡¯re supposed to thank bait.¡±
A corner of Michaelli¡¯s mouth twitched¡ªalmost a smile, though he quickly buried it. ¡°Thank you, bait,¡± he said dryly, inclining his head.
She groaned, throwing her hands in the air. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this. You know what? Next time, let the griffin eat me.¡±
His golden eyes glinted, more amused than annoyed. ¡°It probably wouldn¡¯t. You¡¯d give it indigestion.¡±
Tuk froze, her indignation melting into stunned silence. ¡°Did... did you just make a joke? Was that an actual joke?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t joke,¡± Michaelli replied smoothly, though the faintest smirk betrayed him.
Her mouth twitched, an involuntary laugh escaping despite herself. ¡°You¡¯re insufferable.¡±
¡°And you¡¯re cursed,¡± he countered, his tone suddenly more serious. ¡°You keep finding yourself in trouble¡ªit¡¯s almost impressive.¡±
Tuk rolled her eyes but hesitated for a fraction of a second. ¡°Maybe I am cursed,¡± she said, her voice quieter now, the humor dimmed by something heavier. The thought lingered, uncomfortable and familiar, before she shook it off with a shrug.
For a fleeting moment, Michaelli paused, his gaze flickering toward her before he shifted his attention back to her bindings. ¡°Then stay closer next time,¡± he said curtly, letting the rope snap free on her feet.
Tuk glared at him as she dusted herself off. ¡°Closer? So I can be bait again? Great plan, genius.¡±
¡°You¡¯re still alive. Against all odds, I might add,¡± Michaelli replied.
¡°Are you saying you care?¡± Tuk asked, narrowing her eyes.
¡°I¡¯m saying I¡¯d prefer not to carry you again.¡±
Tuk clenched her fists, shooting a quick prayer to the heavens. ¡°For the love of god, grant me patience not to slap the back of his head. As tempting as it is¡¡± she muttered under her breath, glaring at Michaelli. He was crouched, inspecting his ankle with an infuriating calmness, utterly oblivious to her frustration.
A furious roar from the Onyxariel shattered her thoughts, yanking her attention back to the battlefield. The beast¡¯s claws tore into the earth, leaving deep, jagged scars as it struggled to rise. Its massive wings beat the air in desperation, each stroke echoing like thunder.
Michaelli¡¯s grip tightened on the hilt of his blade, his expression unflinching. With a swift motion, he severed the final rope tangled around his sore ankle. Rising to his full height, his voice cut through the chaos like steel.
¡°Move back,¡± he commanded, sharp and unyielding.
Tuk didn¡¯t hesitate; she bolted toward the cover of a towering tree, pressing herself against its rough bark as if it could shield her from the chaos.
From her vantage point, she caught a glimpse of Michaelli¡¯s golden eyes, their predatory gleam locked on the faltering creature. The Onyxariel let out a guttural, defiant roar, its battered form coiling as it gathered strength for one last, desperate bid for escape.
¡°Oh no, you don¡¯t,¡± Michaelli growled, his weapon shifting fluidly into a bow, the transformation smooth as if it were an extension of his will. A black, viscous liquid oozed into the weapon¡¯s center, forming an arrow that pulsated like a heartbeat.
With a sharp exhale, he fired. The arrow streaked through the air, its sleek form glinting in the light before twisting into a sinuous, living chain. It wrapped around the Onyxariel¡¯s neck with a serpentine grace, tightening with every thrash of the griffin¡¯s wings.
The creature let out a guttural screech, wings flapping frantically but Michaelli stood firm. With a sharp yank on the chain, he dragged the beast back to the earth, its enormous body crashing into the dirt in a flurry of leaves and dust.
The griffin struggled, its movements growing erratic as it tried to shake off its captor. Michaelli wasted no time. In one fluid motion, he surged forward, the chain in his hands dissolving back into the form of a sword. Its blade shimmered with a menacing, dark glow, humming with latent energy.
The Onyxariel locked eyes with Michaelli, a final, defiant glare. With one decisive strike, he drove the blade into the beast¡¯s chest, the impact reverberating through the clearing like a thunderclap. It let out a final, haunting cry, its voice echoing across the battlefield before it fell silent. Its colossal form slumped to the ground, lifeless, the forest eerily still in its wake.
Standing atop its lifeless form, Michaelli surveyed the fallen creature, his hand brushing its dark feathers. His voice was quiet but firm. ¡°If only it had chosen a worthier path for its might.¡±
From behind a tree, Tuk peeked out, her hair a disheveled mess. ¡°Why do I have to watch this action scene instead of a romance arc?!¡± she muttered, half-hysterical while closing both her ears.
The warriors erupted into cheers, scrambling to claim feathers from the beast as trophies. Michaelli, ever composed, sheathed his weapon and turned to Tuk. She was slumped against a tree, glaring at him, her hair wild and disheveled, like a ruffled bird caught in a storm.
She really does look like a little lark, he thought, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
¡°Get up,¡± Michaelli commanded, his tone cool and matter-of-fact.
Tuk weakly pushed herself halfway up, her voice dripping with exaggerated drama. ¡°Your Highness, can¡¯t you just tell the court and the historians that I fell nobly in battle, valiantly trying to avoid¡ª¡±
¡°You¡¯re embarrassing yourself,¡± Michaelli cut in, his words dry as he reached down and hauled her up without ceremony. ¡°And me.¡±
She yelped as he pulled her to her feet, brushing dirt off her clothes with an indignant glare. ¡°You could at least pretend to appreciate the sacrifices I make for your royal hunt agenda.¡±
Michaelli smirked, his expression entirely unapologetic. ¡°Sacrifices? You were hanging from a tree.¡±
Tuk crossed her arms, tilting her head toward the warriors who were busy admiring the fallen beast. ¡°Well, at least they appreciate me. I¡¯m basically their good-luck charm for seeing that legendary beast.¡±
¡°Good luck for them, maybe,¡± Michaelli quipped.
Tuk gasped in mock offense, then grinned slyly. ¡°And here I thought you cared.¡±
The prince shot her a sharp look, though the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. ¡°Care is a strong word. Let¡¯s stick with ¡®tolerate.¡¯¡±
She laughed, shaking her head as the tension of the battle finally melted away. ¡°Well, Your Highness, if I¡¯m such a burden, maybe I should just stay behind next time.¡±
Michaelli paused, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. ¡°Stay behind? And deprive me of the endless entertainment?¡±
The nearby warriors, overhearing the exchange, burst into laughter. Tuk groaned, covering her face with her hands. One of them, a burly figure with a mischievous grin, clapped her on the back so hard she nearly toppled over.
¡°Welcome to the team, Advisor!¡± he bellowed, his voice carrying a teasing warmth. ¡°We¡¯re lucky to have you!¡±
Tuk stumbled, shooting a glare at Michaelli, who was already walking away with an air of smug satisfaction. She sighed, muttering under her breath, ¡°I really need to renegotiate my role in this mess.¡±
As the group began to move out, the griffin¡¯s massive body was left behind like a trophy, Tuk found herself chuckling at the absurdity of her situation. This wasn¡¯t the adventure she¡¯d expected, but somehow, it was starting to feel like her own.
"What a cruel curse it is to be Isekai''d," Tuk thought, unaware that her greatest trial was yet to come.
The secret she had guarded so fiercely was no longer hers to keep.
What fate awaits Tuk as her world begins to unravel? Stay tuned to find out.
Chapter closed¡ªfor now.
Chapter 40: The Vogue Cover
Tuk watched the troop of warriors cheer like maniacs. The prince''s triumphant hunt had turned the scene into an open-air festival of blood, feathers, and overenthusiastic back-slapping. "I¡¯m so glad I chose to be on their side," she thought, crying a little on the inside.
The weapons the prince used just now looked strikingly similar to the designs I once showed to the weaponsmith back when I was so excited about presenting ideas for weapons inspired by RPGs and MMORPGs.
''I didn¡¯t know his swords could shift into different shapes. That''s so cool. I want one,'' Tuk mumbled to herself.
The enormous griffin lay lifeless nearby, looking like it had swallowed every monster in existence before meeting its end. Tuk pulled twigs and leaves from her tousled hair, her clothes were now stained with dirt and grass. Able to breathe and relax a little, she finally remembers why she came here in the first place.
"I almost forgot about this," she muttered, fishing a crumpled letter from inside her vest. Once pristine, the parchment now looked like it had survived a battlefield. "Well, at least it will be delivered. Effort counts, right?"
¡°Your Highness...¡± she began, approaching the Prince with all seriousness, who stood like a war god in the center of the clearing. She can¡¯t believe how rude she was behaving earlier. Luckily, he¡¯s not petty to kill her over his words, or is it because she has an important role to fill that¡¯s why he is tolerating her behavior until now or he''s just in a good mood? She doesn''t know, for her, the prince is the hardest person to read.
As he approached him, he could clearly see his dark armor gleaming with streaks of blood. Is that his blood? Or the Griffins? Hard to tell. They were both monsters, after all.
The warriors watched her with barely contained amusement as she staggered weakly closer. Tuk rolled her eyes. ''Laugh all you want, but your prince looks like a medieval vampire who overdid it at an all-you-can-drink blood buffet.'' Tuk stopped thinking as she clearly saw the prince''s face. ''Annoyingly, he still looked... good. Too good it¡¯s so annoying!¡¯
She gave the battered letter toward him, ¡°Letters. For you,¡± she muttered with exasperation. She can¡¯t believe what she had to endure just to send those damn letters. She can now appreciate how convenient emails are in her world now. The Prince''s eyes gleamed after seeing the letter. He took and inspected the royal seal before tossing it carelessly into a pool of blood at their feet.
Tuk¡¯s mind short-circuited. Did he just throw that?
Her polite smile barely masked the storm brewing within. ¡°Your... Highness. Lord Nixon said it was IMPORTANT,¡± she said through gritted teeth, silently praying for divine intervention to spare her dwindling patience.
The prince shrugged, casually wiping his hands with a towel offered by a warrior. ¡°I received it, didn¡¯t I?¡±
¡®Read it, you baffoon!¡¯ Her internal monologue screamed, though she maintained her mask of calm. She sighed inwardly. If I keep stressing over this man, I¡¯ll have gray hair before I turn thirty.
¡°Right. Well, I should head back, then,¡± she muttered, turning away.
Stressing over the prince was a one-way ticket to premature aging¡ªonly to remember, with a sinking feeling, that her treacherous horse had abandoned her.
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That stupid horse. When I find it, I¡¯ll paint its hooves neon pink!
She hesitated, then asked with a glimmer of hope, ¡°Ah... I seem to have lost my horse. Perhaps someone could... offer me a ride?¡±
Michaelli¡¯s lips curled into a knowing smile, his golden-brown eyes gleaming with amusement, as if he¡¯d heard every unspoken thought. ¡°We¡¯re done here. Prepare for the return,¡± he commanded his men.
Relief flooded her as a warrior with a sun-worn face, who called himself Zalem, waved her over. His grin widened. ¡°Need a ride, Lord Advisor?¡±
¡°Desperately,¡± she sighed.
Climbing onto the horse was anything but graceful. She felt like a clumsy frog landing on a lily pad¡ªawkward, shaky, and completely uncomfortable. Every muscle in her body ached, begging for rest.
---
Back at the encampment, cheers erupted for the participants of the hunting competition. The air buzzed with excitement, but Tuk barely noticed.
She trudged along with the prince¡¯s entourage, her energy drained from the aftershock of being hunted by a beast¡ªand, for the love of all things holy, she hadn¡¯t even had a single moment to cry about it. Instead, she¡¯d been hauled off by warriors like a helpless sack of grain, their idea of ¡°welcoming¡± her apparently involving zero personal space.
Can I at least have an hour to mourn my misery? Seriously!
She¡¯d tried calling out to the prince for help, but the jerk hadn¡¯t so much as glanced her way. Not a flicker of acknowledgment! How is he even a prince? I thought we were close now! she fumed silently, biting back a groan of frustration.
When they finally stopped, it wasn¡¯t at their designated tent but a nearby lake. The sight of the clear, sparkling water might have been refreshing if Tuk wasn¡¯t too tired to care. It wasn¡¯t long before most of the men stripped naked and waded into the water as she suspected, their carefree laughter and splashes filling the air like a bunch of rowdy schoolboys on holiday.
Tuk slumped by the water¡¯s edge, staring blankly at the shimmering surface. She didn¡¯t even have the energy to be shocked by the parade of naked men anymore.
Well, she thought, her lips curling into a faint smirk, At least no one¡¯s trying to kill me here. That¡¯s progress, I guess.
Trying to shake off her fatigue, Tuk decided to observe the warriors instead. The sunlight glinted off their wet butts and muscular bodies as they bathed while laughing. For a moment, she forgot her misery and let herself enjoy the spectacle.
¡°They really have amazing muscles,¡± she muttered to herself. Her eyes drifted from one warrior to the next. ¡°Oh, that one has way more abs than the rest. What was his name again? Zalem? Halem?¡± She squinted, counting under her breath. ¡°One, two, three, four, five, six... Damn.¡±
A faint grin tugged at her lips. Maybe some people would kill to be in my position right now.
Her gaze shifted to another warrior who looked like he¡¯d been carved from marble. Tuk propped her chin on her hand, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
Well, when life gives you abs, you take a good stare, It¡¯s not my fault the world served me perfection so rare. Like a Vogue cover come to life, right in my view, Who could blame me for admiring the free preview?
A sudden splash of water crashed down on her from above, and before she could react, someone shoved her straight into the pool. She surfaced with a gasp, water dripping down her face. Some jerk had clearly decided to mess with her.
¡°I¡¯ll kill y¡ªahh!¡± she started to shout, but before she could finish, more bodies leaped into the water, sending waves splashing all around her. She barely managed to stay afloat, coughing as another wave hit her.
Worse, she couldn¡¯t get out¡ªnot easily, at least. Her clothes were already clinging to her skin, and the last thing she wanted was to give everyone a free show. Yeah, definitely not the ending I was looking for.
Chapter 41: Something worth living for
¡°Your Highness,¡± Nixon greeted as the prince strode into his pavilion, his movements sharp and deliberate. ¡°Have you received the letter from His Majesty, the Emperor?¡±
The prince paused, his hand moving to unbuckle the clasp of his armor. ¡°I did. Another summon, I presume. Let me guess¡ªit''s about the incident in Terrado or that little courting rule I recently enforced.¡± His tone dripped with disdain.
Nixon hesitated but pressed on, trailing behind him. ¡°Your Highness, I thought it prudent to have the historian deliver the message directly¡ª¡±
The prince stilled, his movements freezing for a fraction of a second before he turned his head just enough to glance at Nixon. His voice was low, like the rumble of an approaching storm. ¡°Why?¡±
Nixon swallowed hard but continued. ¡°There¡¯s a possibility he was sent by the enemies, or worse¡ the rebel, Yvethra. But if the letter remained intact, then that¡ª¡±
¡°Nixon.¡± The single word, cold and clipped, cut through the air. The prince turned, removing his chestplate with unhurried precision. ¡°Tuk is my responsibility. Not yours. Consider this your warning.¡±
His words hung heavily, a dark promise lingering in the air. Nixon stiffened, bowing her head as the prince continued to remove his armor, leaving him in the stark simplicity of his undershirt.
¡°If you can find someone capable of replacing his role,¡± the prince added, his voice like ice, ¡°then, by all means, do as you please.¡±
¡°Apologies, Your Highness.¡± Nixon clasped her hands and bowed deeply before retreating, her steps hurried and silent.
The prince turned toward the reserved bathroom, his expression unreadable, yet the weight of his authority lingered long after he disappeared from sight.
That night, Tuk struggled to find rest. The encounter with the vicious Onyxariel had stirred memories she had long buried¡ªfragments of a war she desperately wanted to forget.
''I hope I don''t encounter a beast like that again..'' she silently thought. The echoes of war cries, the sickening splatter of blood, and the sight of shattered limbs haunted her dreams, dragging her back into the nightmare she desperately wanted to ignore and thought she had escaped but it didn''t.
[[ The Prince POV ]]
¡°How is it?¡± Michaelli¡¯s voice cut through the stillness of his pavilion, sharp and precise.
From the shadows, Shadral emerged, his voice low and measured. ¡°Your suspicions were correct, Your Highness. Shall I handle it?¡±
A slow, dangerous smile curled on the prince¡¯s lips. ¡°No. Not yet,¡± he said with a soft chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since someone this bold approached me. Let¡¯s see how far she thinks she can go. For now, I¡¯ll play along but keep watching her.¡±
¡°As you command, Your Highness.¡±
The shadow disappeared, leaving Michaelli alone. He leaned back, drumming his fingers against the edge of the report sent to his chamber, his grin unwavering. His thoughts lingered on the so-called ¡°historian.¡±
Clever. Very clever. But why? What¡¯s her goal? How long can she keep up this charade?
If she truly comes from Yvethra, she¡¯s far more dangerous than I anticipated. The people of Yvethra were infamous for achieving the impossible¡ªtaming manticores and mastering the art of concealment. They were formidable enemies, but her knowledge was too valuable to ignore. She was far more advanced than the other historians.
If only I had someone with the power of a beast tamer, he mused. But there¡¯s no use dwelling on what I don¡¯t have. Right now, she doesn¡¯t know that I¡¯ve uncovered her identity. That gives me the upper hand.
All I need to determine is her true intention. Is she after my life, the scroll¡¯s power, or the empire itself?
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[[ Tuk''s POV ]]
The next morning, anticipation hummed through the camp like an electric current as the announcement of the hunt¡¯s dedication ceremony took center stage. Nobles gathered in clusters, their fine garments rustling as they exchanged speculations in hushed, excited voices.
Atop a small platform, the announcer unfurled a scroll with deliberate precision. ¡°I dedicate this hunt to Lady Evelyn,¡± the announcement declared, his voice ringing across the clearing like a peal of thunder. His eyes briefly flicked to a young woman at the edge of the crowd, whose pale complexion flushed with shock.
Lady Evelyn, draped in a simple but elegant gown, stood at the center of a storm of whispers. Gasps rippled through the crowd, envy igniting in the eyes of the other nobles as though the world had inverted itself and rain now fell upward.
The announcer continued his tone steady but laced with significance. ¡°His Highness, the prince, cannot personally attend the dedication due to an urgent situation. However, by his command, his hunt the onixaryl is hereby dedicated to Lady Evelyn of House Alaric.¡±
From her position far from the event yet can hear the announcement near the forest''s edge, Tuk stifled a snort, her expression a mask of forced politeness. She slid a glance toward Michaelli, who lounged beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient oak, looking as if he¡¯d never encountered the concept of urgency in his life.
Urgent situation, my ass, she thought. If lounging under a tree counts as "urgent," then I¡¯m now the queen of Marceau.
This was the first hunt dedication she had witnessed live, and frankly, it was as disappointing as her ill-fated romance plot expectations. Shouldn¡¯t there be some grand, heart-fluttering spectacle? A romantic gesture worthy of bards? Instead, it felt like an open ending to an action fantasy¡ªanticlimactic and unsatisfying.
¡°I¡¯m giving up on romance,¡± she grumbled, scanning the area for somewhere to sit. ¡°I should focus on survival. For some reason, I¡¯ve become a magnet for unfortunate events. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m cursed or if this world is just written to give me daily trauma.¡±
The wind stirred through the towering trees, carrying the earthy scent of moss and pine. The peaceful calm of the forest was almost surreal, a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous day¡¯s hunt¡ªa hunt she had miraculously survived.
I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever thanked him, the "good" part of her brain mused. How could I? Every word that comes out of his mouth annoys me, the "evil" side retorted with a snarl.
Maybe I should repay him in some way¡ after all, he has saved me twice now, the good side offered.
No need for grand gestures, the evil side cut in. Offering my expertise is plenty. Yes, that¡¯s it. No extra effort required. Just stay still, breathe, and do absolutely nothing.
For once, both sides seemed to agree. The good Tuk and the evil Tuk reached a truce. And that, my friends, is how you thank a prince without lifting a finger.
The rustling leaves seemed to sigh in collective relief, as if even they were glad the drama had subsided. Tuk allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk. At least she¡¯d gotten even with that treacherous horse for abandoning her mid-hunt. Somewhere out there, its hooves gleamed in the most obnoxious shades of neon pink.
¡°Next, Lord Nixon,¡± she muttered under her breath, her tone dripping with malice as a few wicked ideas began to form. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to get even with you soon.¡±
Her gaze wandered back to Michaelli, lying in the grass like a man without a care in the world. They were supposed to leave soon, yet here he was, resting for reasons she couldn¡¯t begin to understand.
What is he thinking, lying here instead of staying in his pavilion? she mused. Does he enjoy keeping people guessing, or is this just his version of ¡®me time¡¯?
Leaning against a nearby tree, Tuk felt the rough bark steady her. For the first time in what felt like ages, the endless weight¡ªthe schemes, the frantic pace, the constant fear of failure¡ªseemed to lighten, if only for a moment.
How long has it been since I¡¯ve breathed like this?
Her old world, full of glowing screens and endless deadlines, felt like a distant nightmare. She¡¯d worked tirelessly, like a horse afraid of being left behind. It was a relentless race for stability¡ªa stable career, a stable life¡ªand yet the worry never ended. There was no way to predict whether you¡¯d rise or fall.
No matter the time, past or present, there¡¯s no such thing as a fair world, is there? Tuk thought bitterly. Life had always been unfair, and she was one of those unlucky enough to endure it.
And yet, in this world of violence and beauty, where power ruled everything, she found herself treasuring these rare moments of peace. Even if danger was always lurking, she somehow felt safer under Prince Michaelli¡¯s wings. It was strange¡ªa balance between feeling protected and always being one misstep away from disaster. Life here was like playing a charade with everything on the line.
If I¡¯m cursed, he must¡¯ve received all the blessings.
Her eyes shifted back to Michaelli from a far. Even at rest, something about him was unsettling¡ªa stillness that felt watchful, like a lion silently deciding whether to strike. I¡¯ll never figure him out, will I? Maybe if I befriend him, I can share in some of his blessings. I will teach him that sharing is caring, she thought with a faint chuckle because its impossible.
As she stood there, breathing in the cool air of this strange yet alluring world, a thought stirred in her mind.
Perhaps there¡¯s something worth living for here. If I can¡¯t go back, maybe I can carve out a place for myself in this world¡ªa place where beasts, preferably, are nowhere to be found.
Chapter 42: The Seed of Doubt
[[ Flashback ]]
A few months before the hunting event, Prince Michaelli ventured to Hibrido¡ªthe empire¡¯s newest and most dreaded prison. Built deep within the frost-covered cliffs, it was a place where the air itself seemed to freeze hope. The walls, carved from dark stone, oozed dampness, and the faint scent of mildew mingled with the sharp tang of cold iron. Chains clinked softly in the distance, an eerie reminder of the lives that would linger here in endless suffering, denied even the mercy of death.
¡°Still refusing to cooperate, Pierce?¡± The prince¡¯s voice, calm yet sharp as a blade, carried through the dim chamber. He sat in a chair that looked far too luxurious for this grim setting, its ornate carvings mocking the despair around him. In his hand, he held a small fire burner, tapping it rhythmically against the armrest¡ªa soft, steady beat that seemed to echo the inevitability of fate.
Pierce knelt on the wet stone floor, his body trembling from cold and pain. His skin was pale and frostbitten, his lips cracked, and dried blood clung to his face like a second skin. His once-proud gaze now burned with defiance, though his breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. Water dripped from his tangled hair, forming small puddles around him.
The warrior, once a shining star in the elite Crimson Rank, had been broken in ways that words couldn¡¯t describe. Endless cycles of drowning in icy water and suffocating cold had left his body battered, but his spirit remained unyielding.
The prince tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It was the kind of smile that sent chills down spines. ¡°You¡¯re stubborn,¡± he remarked, almost amused. ¡°I always admired that about you.¡± He raised his hand, and two guards stepped forward. Without hesitation, they grabbed Pierce and forced him back into the freezing water.
Pierce thrashed, his body jerking as the icy grip of the water stole his breath. Michaelli leaned back in his chair, watching with a calm that bordered on cruel. His foot tapped the floor, the slow rhythm blending with the muffled splashes. When Pierce¡¯s struggles began to weaken, Michaelli raised his hand again. The guards pulled him out, and he collapsed to the ground, coughing and choking on the air his lungs so desperately craved.
¡°You were one of my finest,¡± the prince said, his voice soft, almost nostalgic. ¡°Six years ago, during the Elthor Invasion, I saw something special in you. I handpicked you myself, trusted you with my life. You wielded power others could only dream of.¡± His tone hardened, his gaze sharp as steel. ¡°And now? A traitor. Tell me, Pierce, who do you serve?¡±
Pierce lifted his head, his swollen lips curling into a weak, defiant smile. ¡°You¡ will never¡ know.¡±
The prince¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but something in his eyes shifted¡ªa flicker of anger, or perhaps disappointment. He leaned forward slightly, the fire burner¡¯s gentle glow reflecting in his cold, calculating gaze. ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± he said quietly, his voice carrying a promise of more pain to come.
[[ Present day ]]
Pierce¡¯s betrayal shattered the trust Michaelli had built in his carefully controlled world. Michaelli had always trusted his instincts, honed by years of treachery and survival. But even those could not predict every turn.
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Pierce, once a trusted member of the Elite Crimson Rank, had betrayed him. He leaked war plans, secret messages, and even details from the Arcanographica scrolls. It wasn¡¯t just personal; it was deliberate, driven by someone else¡¯s hand.
Vision, the sharp-eyed member of his Rank, had caught Pierce¡¯s messenger bird mid-flight and exposed the truth. The evidence was undeniable, but Michaelli knew Pierce wasn¡¯t acting alone. Someone else was pulling the strings, and the betrayal pointed to one place¡ªthe historians.
The names circled in his mind like wolves stalking prey. The war in Homonhon was the perfect chance to gather them all in one place. Leon? Impossible. Marco? Loyal to a fault. Rowell? Too timid. That left Tuk¡ªthe oddest of them all.
Among these four brilliant minds, Tuk was the most suspicious. The clever historian with a fragmented past. Michaelli had pulled him closer, disguising it as a promotion to ¡°love advisor,¡± a role that kept him under his watch while still using his skills. Yet, even with him near, the mystery deepened.
Some days, his actions seemed loyal. Other days, they left him with questions he couldn¡¯t answer. His calm defiance intrigued him in ways that unsettled his careful control. He was sharp, maybe too sharp, and his composure never cracked, no matter what subtle tests he laid before him.
Who are you, Tuk?
The answer eluded him, no matter how cleverly he tried to corner it. But the hunting competition changed everything. What should have been a routine event unraveled a secret he hadn¡¯t expected. Tuk wasn¡¯t just a historian. He wasn¡¯t just bold¡ªhe was...
The prince stared at his hands. It had only been a few minutes since he held her, but the sensation lingered, undeniable, and impossible to ignore. It wasn''t the hand of a man. The truth was clear now, no matter how shocking.
A wave of questions surged through him. Why? What was she hiding? Was her loyalty genuine, or was she playing a part in some grander scheme?
He could send her to Hibrido for interrogation with a single word. Yet something held him back¡ªa hesitation, a quiet voice in his mind. He didn¡¯t have time for doubts, but this one refused to be silenced.
Leon¡¯s reports were clear: Tuk worked tirelessly, her efforts meticulous and focused. She seemed to want nothing more than to prove her worth. Was it all an act? If so, it was the most convincing he¡¯d ever seen.
Michaelli¡¯s gaze lingered on her as she rested against the tree, her features softened by sleep. Even now, she carried secrets¡ªtangible yet just out of reach. Her body slouched against the rough bark, arms folded loosely, her head tilted to the side.
Her calm face drew his attention, an unguarded stillness so unlike the sharp-tongued historian who challenged him at every turn. Her parted lips, the soft shadows of her lashes against pale skin¡ªthis was a side of her he hadn¡¯t seen before. Gentle. Vulnerable.
He scoffed quietly, disbelief flickering across his face as the truth settled in. Now that he looked closer, there was no mistaking it. It was Leon¡¯s fault that he didn''t notice it sooner. Michaelli had dismissed the thought before it even occurred, assuming she was like Leon, with a frame that defied easy assumptions. But now, seeing her like this, his instincts told him he¡¯d been right all along.
¡°What¡¯s your game, Tuk?¡± he murmured, voice low and rough.
As if hearing him, her peaceful expression shifted. Her brow furrowed, lips pressing together as though battling unseen forces in her dreams. Her head began to slip to the side, about to fall.
Michaelli moved without thinking. In one fluid motion, his hand shot out, catching her head just before it dropped. He froze, startled by the warmth of her hair and the soft texture of her skin. For a moment, he stayed there, watching her chest rise and fall with steady breaths.
Carefully¡ªmore gently than he would have believed himself capable¡ªhe guided her head back against the tree, adjusting it until it rested naturally again. The small act felt intimate, too intimate, and a ripple of discomfort coursed through him. His movements slowed, deliberate, as though afraid of disturbing her. When he finally stepped back, his hand lingered in the air a second longer than it should have.
¡°It¡¯s... strange,¡± he muttered under his breath, his gaze still fixed on her. Tuk seemed fragile in that moment, a stark contrast to the fierce intellect he sparred with during the day.
As the sky deepened and stars began to emerge, Michaelli remained where he was, his thoughts churning. Something unfamiliar stirred within him¡ªsomething he couldn¡¯t name.
If she was involved in Pierce¡¯s betrayal, the truth would surface in time. He was sure of that. For now, her skills were too valuable to lose. But when the moment came to decide her fate, Michaelli would not hesitate.
¡°Wake her,¡± he ordered, his voice calm but firm. Without waiting, he turned away, his eyes fixed on the darkening horizon. ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡±
His warriors moved to obey, but his mind remained elsewhere. The truth about Tuk clung to him like a shadow, a mystery that demanded answers. And one way or another, Michaelli vowed to uncover them.
Chapter 43: Overcoming the fear
Tuk, unaware of the prince¡¯s suspicions or how she had somehow become entangled with rebels she knew nothing about, innocently chewed on the jerky. Her thoughts drifted despite the warmth of the campfire. One of the warriors had given it to her, their usual laughter making her feel out of place¡ªyet grateful. The meat was tough but filling, but no matter how much she tried to enjoy the moment, a tight unease lingered in her stomach.
She glanced toward the tent where the prince and his people were deep in discussion, their muffled voices just barely audible over the crackling fire. It was their second night in the road after leaving the hunting competition. Her eyes darted away when she felt it again¡ªa prickling at the back of her neck, like she was being watched.
It wasn¡¯t the first time. For days now, she¡¯d felt this strange chill, an unshakable sense that eyes were following her even when she was alone. It was irrational, she told herself. But then again, maybe it wasn¡¯t. Maybe her mind was just... unsettled.
She exhaled sharply, trying to focus on the warmth of the fire, the rough texture of the jerky in her hands. But even the sound of a bird¡¯s wings flapping nearby made her flinch. Her heart raced as she stared at the shadows, trying to convince herself it was nothing. Why am I like this? she thought, gripping the jerky harder.
The memories clawed at her mind, uninvited. The blood, the shouting, the beast''s glistening eyes ready to devour her whole. Her fingers twitched. It was already in the past, and she was saved but the fear lived inside her, coiled and waiting, ready to strike at moments like this.
¡°I¡¯m going crazy,¡± she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as though she could dislodge the thoughts. ¡°You¡¯ve been here over a year now. Get a grip.¡±
Just then, Lord Nixon stepped out of the tent, his sharp gaze scanning the camp until it landed on her. Tuk froze. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as a strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu swept over her.
This again? she thought bitterly. He¡¯s not going to drag me into something bloody again, is he?
Nixon¡¯s gaze lingered, and Tuk felt herself shrink under its weight. Memories surged, unbidden¡ªthose same cold, calculating looks in the past, the ones that meant she was being pulled into something dangerous. She swallowed hard, her grip on the jerky tightening as if it could anchor her to this moment, away from the shadows clawing at her mind.
No. Not again. I don¡¯t want this. I don¡¯t want to be part of anything dangerous anymore.
But wanting and doing were two different things. No matter how much she wanted to run, her feet stayed planted. Running wouldn¡¯t stop the nightmares, and it wouldn¡¯t stop whatever comes next. Deep down, she knew better than to think fleeing was not an option. This wasn¡¯t a world that allowed for escape.
If she truly wanted freedom¡ªreal freedom¡ªshe couldn¡¯t afford a single misstep. The prince held the answers she needed, but she knew he wasn¡¯t the kind of man to trust anyone easily. Letting her guard down wasn¡¯t an option. Instead, she would have to find the cracks in his defenses and pry them open. Being his "love advisor" and a historian had given her just enough leverage to stay close, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Not yet. She was still far from her goal, and every step forward felt like walking a razor¡¯s edge. But each day brought her closer, and she refused to let fear stop her now.
¡°Historian, his highness is looking for you.¡±
Lord Nixon¡¯s voice snapped her back to the present. His approach confirmed her suspicion. She¡¯d been called again. Her instincts had been sharpening lately, honed by the ever-present danger that shadowed her. It was strange how survival pushed her senses to the edge. She could even sense the three small birds circling above, eyeing her jerky with a predator¡¯s patience.
She sighed, pushing down the frustration bubbling inside her. Focus. Just get through this.
Before following Nixon, she tossed the remaining piece of jerky into the air. The birds swooped down, their tiny wings fluttering wildly as they snatched their prize.
Watching them, a faint smile crossed her lips. Small birds like these were harmless. If only all the predators in this world were that simple.
But her smile faded as her thoughts turned to the griffin. The memory of its razor-sharp talons and piercing cry sent a chill down her spine. I hope I never see a beast like that again.
Tuk straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to step forward. She couldn¡¯t afford to let fear control her¡ªnot now. As she entered the tent, the warmth of the fire faded, replaced by the cold, calculating stares of the prince.
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One step closer to the truth, she told herself. One step closer to freedom.
[[ Tuk''s POV ]]
As I step inside the tent, the air feels heavier, like the heat of a furnace pressing against my skin. But it''s not the temperature¡ªit''s the presence of the three men inside. The prince sits at the center, exuding his usual smug composure. Beside him is Lord Nixon, and next to him stands a man I don¡¯t recognize, but one thing was certain¡ªhe was dangerous.
I take a gulp, forcing myself not to waver under his gaze. His icy gray eyes glow faintly, piercing me as though they could read my every thought. His face is adorned with tribal tattoos, and his hair¡ªa tight braid with a shaved undercut¡ªmakes him look fierce, like a predator in waiting. The fur draped over his shoulders and the heavy earrings he wears speak of a cold, distant land, far removed from the heat of this tent. Tribal, dangerous, and likely deadly. Ignore him. Just pretend he doesn¡¯t exist.
¡°Your Highness, you summoned me?¡± I ask, trying not to let my voice betray my nerves. My eyes flick toward the tattooed man again.
''Who is this guy?'' I can''t help but think. ''And why does he look like he wants to kill me? He better not be another fucker trying to add to my ever-growing list of worries.''
¡°That¡¯s right,¡± the prince says, his voice light but laced with something sinister. ¡°It seems the emperor is¡ displeased with how we¡¯ve chosen to implement the courting rule among the nobles.¡± His smile sharpens, carrying that familiar, unsettling glee. ¡°Naturally, I¡¯ve been summoned to explain it. Which made me think¡ªwhy not invite the very person who suggested the idea?¡±
The smile he flashes me is infuriating. Oh no, not this again. I force a smile in return, but my thoughts run wild. The emperor?! Are you out of your mind? That¡¯s the same old tyrant who nearly got me executed! Why are you dragging me into this? Fix your own mess, Your Highness. You¡¯re the prince, for goodness¡¯ sake!
¡°What do you think? Wouldn¡¯t this be a good time to showcase the talents of my ''love advisor''?¡± The prince¡¯s teasing tone jolts me back to reality. Oh, I am going to punch him. I really am.
¡°If I may, Your Highness,¡± I begin, masking my panic with a polite smile, ¡°I think it¡¯s best to inform His Imperial Majesty that your curiosity about love stems from our research on the Arcanographica. My presence isn¡¯t necessary for this discussion.¡±
¡°Hmm¡ Is that so?¡± The prince tilts his head, feigning consideration. ¡°But how can I explain the Arcanographica when I don¡¯t understand it myself? Didn¡¯t you say the matter of the heart is like the scroll to me¡ªsomething I can¡¯t comprehend?¡±
He¡¯s doing this on purpose, didn''t he?
¡°Of course, Your Highness,¡± I reply with the sweetest tone I can muster, ¡°we can send His Imperial Majesty the transcribed scrolls. We historians have worked tirelessly, sacrificing our sleep to decode them. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be thrilled to see our progress.¡±
The prince¡¯s smirk deepens. ¡°What do you think?¡± he asks, shifting his gaze to the tattooed man standing nearby.
Who is this man? And why does his opinion matter so much to the prince?
¡°Negative,¡± the man says after a tense pause. ¡°She currently shows no signs of deception.¡±
The prince¡¯s smirk sharpens, his satisfaction almost tangible. ¡°Good,¡± he says, his tone laced with amusement. ¡°See? Even the Chieftain of the North Hibrido, Kaelrik, finds your words trustworthy.¡±
''Is he like a human detector test or something?'' The tattooed man steps back, but his piercing gaze lingers on me¡ªa silent warning I can¡¯t ignore.
¡°Your Highness,¡± Kaelrik says, breaking the prince¡¯s lingering stare, ¡°if there¡¯s nothing else...¡±
¡°Ah, yes, of course. Thank you for coming all this way, Kaelrik. I leave the matter with Hibrido to you.¡± The prince dismisses him with a wave, his attention briefly shifting.
My knees feel weak the moment his gaze lifts from me, but I force myself to remain standing, refusing to show weakness.
¡°Nixon,¡± the prince calls out, turning to his advisor. ¡°Does this answer your suspicion?¡±
Lord Nixon bows low, his voice steeped in contrition. ¡°I apologize for acting without your permission, Your Highness. Thank you for your patience.¡±
I blink, glancing between the two of them as they share a silent exchange laden with unspoken meaning. What is even happening right now?
If you two are just going to exchange loving gazes, why call me here in the first place?!
Chapter 44: The predator teaching the bird
¡°Historian Tuk,¡± the prince said suddenly, breaking the silence. ¡°Do you know why small birds survive in a world full of predators?¡±
The question caught her off guard, but the metaphor wasn¡¯t lost on her. ¡°Because they¡¯re quick, Your Highness,¡± she replied cautiously, ¡°and because they know how to avoid drawing attention.¡±
The prince tilted his head, considering her answer. ¡°Exactly,¡± he said, his tone light but laced with something darker. ¡°But even the quickest bird can falter if it¡¯s too focused on survival. Sometimes, it needs to learn to strike back.¡±
The firelight flickered across his features, casting shadows that made his smirk all the more sinister. Tuk¡¯s breath hitched as the heat radiating from him seemed to seep into her very bones, suffocating and inescapable.
¡°Tell me, Tuk,¡± he whispered, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down her spine. ¡°Are you ready to strike?¡±
Strike what? Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn¡¯t speak. His words were a challenge, a test she wasn¡¯t sure she understood. But then she remembered the small birds from earlier, their wings beating furiously as they fought for the piece of jerky she¡¯d tossed. They weren¡¯t predators, but they weren¡¯t helpless either.
¡°Yes, Your Highness,¡± she said finally, her voice steady despite the fear curling in her chest. ¡°When the time comes, I¡¯ll be ready.¡±
The prince¡¯s smile widened, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something almost like approval in his eyes.
¡°Good,¡± he murmured. Then, his voice shifted. ¡°Now tell me, Historian Tuk¡ why do you think the historian¡¯s office is hidden beneath my palace?¡±
Tuk hesitated, startled by the sudden change in topic. Why? How would I know? Maybe you just have a weird hobby of keeping everything under your thumb, I thought, but I wisely kept my mouth shut. My head was too fond of being attached to my neck.
¡°I¡ I guess it¡¯s to protect the historians and the scrolls, Your Highness,¡± I replied carefully, weighing each word.
The prince¡¯s smirk deepened. ¡°No. It¡¯s because some truths are safer buried. Even the emperor is content with the illusions we offer.¡±
His voice dropped, turning colder. A shiver raced down my spine.
¡°D-does that mean we¡¯re doing something illegal, Your Highness?¡± I stammered, my voice shaky despite my best attempt to stay calm.
A soft laugh escaped him. He covered his mouth, but his shoulders shook, unsettling me. I froze.
Was he... laughing? What was so funny?
¡°Oh, Tuk,¡± he said, like I¡¯d just told the best joke. But I hadn¡¯t. I just wanted to leave¡ªhe was scaring me. ¡°You¡¯re always so amusing. But no, that¡¯s not why you¡¯re here.¡±
His smirk faded as he stepped closer, his eyes sharp now. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as a legal or fair world. You should know that by now. If you want to survive, you must hide your true purpose. Only show people what they want to see. That way, no one will know where to strike.¡±
He leaned in, his face mere inches from mine. I fought the urge to step back.
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¡°Ah, isn¡¯t that what you¡¯re good at?¡±
¡°What do you mean, Your Highness?¡± I squeaked, trying to hold his gaze but squinting because¡ªseriously¡ªdoes this guy know how dangerous it is to look that handsome and intimidating at the same time? He¡¯s not exactly my type because he''s too scary, but with that look? Who wouldn¡¯t bend?
I can¡¯t be the only one affected by whatever aura he¡¯s giving off, right? Even his words feel like riddles, each syllable twisting tighter around my brain. Is this what losing my grip on reality feels like? No, wait, Tuk. Now is not the time for that! Focus!
His smirk deepened further, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes now. ¡°You hide well, Tuk,¡± he mused, circling me slightly. ¡°Too well. Most men flinch when I get this close. Yet here you are, standing firm. Interesting.¡±
My stomach twisted. Was that a test? Was I failing or passing?
¡°I¡¯ve simply gotten used to Your Highness¡¯ presence,¡± I lied, forcing a casual shrug.
He hummed, unconvinced. ¡°Have you now?¡± he murmured before, to my horror, reaching out and brushing a stray strand of hair from my forehead.
I stiffened. My heart nearly stopped. That was too close.
The prince¡¯s fingers lingered just a second too long before he pulled back, watching me with an almost playful expression.
¡°For one, the court believes I study scrolls because I enjoy languages and history. After all, the empire strictly follows the rules that the great Marcellus Arvad created, giving us the perfect cover for a harmless hobby, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±
¡°Everything has a reason and a purpose. For one, the court believes I study scrolls because I enjoy languages and history. After all, the empire strictly follows the rules that the great Marcellus Arvad created, giving us the perfect cover for a harmless hobby, wouldn¡¯t you say? Something to make me seem smarter.¡±
I stayed quiet as he stepped even closer, his golden-brown eyes locking onto mine, unyielding.
We¡¯re the ones studying the scrolls, not you, I corrected him in my thoughts. Last time you opened one, you asked me to explain what the writing meant. Smarter, sure. And who is this Marcellus, anyway?
¡°But the Arcanographica is not just history. It¡¯s power within,¡± he said, his tone low and deliberate.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. Power. That word carried too much weight coming from someone like him. What kind of power are we talking about? The scrolls I¡¯ve decoded so far speak in riddles, always circling back to the dragon.
¡°Second,¡± he continued, ¡°to keep the emperor and the court distracted, I give them just enough truth about the holy dragon¡ªjust enough to mislead them. If they don¡¯t know what we¡¯re really doing, they can¡¯t stop us.¡±
He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a whisper near my ear. ¡°When you build in silence, no one knows where to attack. And if someone does stand in our way¡ they must be crushed completely¡ªbody and spirit.¡±
A cold dread settled in my bones at his cruel words, my breath hitching at his proximity. I couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t think.
¡°Do you understand now?¡± he asked, pulling back slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile.
¡°I¡ I don¡¯t, Your Highness,¡± I admitted, blinking in confusion.
Not a clue. Please stop leaning so close¡ªI can smell your hair oil, and it sure smells nice.
¡°Good,¡± he said, his smile widening. Then, to my surprise, he raised his hand and lightly tapped the top of my head, like one might do to a pet. His fingers lingered for just a moment before he drew back.
¡°That means you¡¯re not the one who spread about the scrolls,¡± he added, his tone lighter now.
I stared at him, my mind reeling. The tap on my head left me frozen. It wasn¡¯t harsh or mocking¡ªit felt almost¡ gentle.
Did he just¡ boop me? What am I, a puppy?
¡°If¡ if this is about the traitor among the historians, I will assist Sire Leo however I can, Your Highness,¡± I managed to say, struggling to regain my composure.
¡°I am counting on you. But you¡¯re still coming to the emperor¡¯s banquet soon,¡± he said with a smirk. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªyou don¡¯t have to do anything. Just watch and keep doing what you do best.¡±
His hand landed on my shoulder, firm but not heavy, like it carried weight without pressure. Before I could process the gesture, he turned and dismissed me.
I entered his tent nervous but ready to face whatever he had planned. I left it more confused than ever, my heart beating faster than I wanted to admit.
¡°That man is impossible to understand,¡± I mumbled to myself, heading back to where the warriors were waiting. My steps were quick, as if I could leave the strange, lingering feeling behind.
Did he eat something good that affected his mood today? They better serve it to him every day.
Chapter 45: A new piece to play with.
[[Michaelli''s Viewpoint ]]
Prince Michaelli didn¡¯t question whether Tuk was hiding something. He knew she was. The only thing left to decide was when she would slip¡ªand how he would make her do it.
He was certain she wasn¡¯t after the scrolls. That much, he had already ruled out. But that only raised a far more interesting question: what was her real purpose? Was she another piece in the rebels¡¯ little game, or something far more entertaining?
After the hunting competition, Tuk was frequently summoned for discussions on court matters, often centered on the prince¡¯s relationships¡ªa subject that never failed to irritate him. Yet, she danced through the court¡¯s scrutiny as if she had studied the game for years. Predictable. But even the most rehearsed performances had flaws. He only needed to press in the right place to make her crack.
Michaelli escalated his tactics, drawing her into confidential meetings where he deliberately spread false information about a neighboring kingdom¡¯s military plans. He watched for leaks, betrayals, any sign that she wasn¡¯t what she seemed. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months¡ªyet no cracks appeared.
Sitting in a quiet chamber, Michaelli turned to Vision, a Crimson Rank spy assigned to watch Tuk from afar. The warrior¡¯s luminous eyes, like shards of ice, contrasted sharply against his dark skin.
¡°Anything suspicious?¡± Michaelli asked.
¡°Nothing at all, Your Highness,¡± Vision replied. ¡°Except for her constant grumbling in the gardens, muttering complaints about the mundane tasks you assign her, and¡ cursing¡ª¡± He hesitated, amusement flickering in his sharp gaze.
Michaelli arched a brow. ¡°Go on.¡±
¡°She seems harmless¡ªincapable of handling the task of an assassin or a rebel,¡± Vision admitted.
Vision¡¯s words meant nothing. Michaelli had already reached his own conclusion.
¡°She¡¯s harmless?¡± He scoffed, leaning back. ¡°She¡¯s something, but harmless isn¡¯t the word. What did she call herself again¡ ah, a bait.¡±
A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he tapped his fingers against the table. ¡°And where exactly is this little bird pretending to be from?¡±
¡°The reports claim she¡¯s from Elthor.¡±
Michaelli¡¯s smirk was indulgent, as if savoring a private joke. ¡°Elthor, huh?¡± he echoed, voice rich with disbelief.
There was no way a woman like her¡ªstubborn, wild, and unpredictable was born in an Empire known for its delicate, obedient daughters. Tuk knows to bend when needed.
His amusement deepened. ¡°She was nothing like the women of Elthor. Tuk doesn¡¯t bow, doesn¡¯t submit, doesn¡¯t yield.¡± His smirk turned razor-sharp. ¡°And yet¡ I wonder how long that will last.¡±
¡°For now, your task is done. I¡¯ll leave this matter in someone else¡¯s hands. Continue monitoring the east.¡±
Vision bowed before he left. ¡°As you wish, Your Highness.¡±
[[ Vision''s Viewpoint ]]
Vision moved like a shadow through the dimly lit halls, his footsteps silent against the polished stone floor. It was a skill honed over years of training¡ªone that had kept him alive in the service of the empire. Yet, for all his discipline, his body betrayed him the moment he turned the corner and collided with someone.
The historian, Tuk.
The impact was sudden. Instinct took over, and before he could think, Vision¡¯s hands closed around her arms, steadying her before she could fall. A breath of silence passed between them, both frozen in the unexpected closeness.
Tuk recovered first. ¡°Well,¡± she said, a lopsided grin forming on her lips. "Oops. K-drama moment."
Vision¡¯s grip tightened for half a second before he released her and stepped back, his movements controlled, precise. The veil over his face concealed his expression, but his piercing gaze betrayed his irritation. He had been trained to move unseen, unheard¡ªthis blunder was unacceptable.
Tuk, on the other hand, seemed unbothered. ¡°You know, if you wanted to make a strong first impression, you could¡¯ve just said hello.¡±
He said nothing, merely adjusting his veil. He needed to leave before she asked questions. Vision turned sharply on his heel, intent on slipping away into the darkness once more, but before he could take a step, Tuk¡¯s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.
The contact sent an odd jolt through him. He had spent years avoiding touch, wary of unwanted interactions because of his ability¡ªbut Tuk was different. There was no hesitation in her grasp, no calculated movement¡ªjust an act of instinct, as if she had no concept of fear.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Then, it happened.
His eyes gleamed, a flicker of light catching in them as the world around him blurred. A vision surfaced¡ªhazy but unmistakable. Tuk stood before him, her hand extended, smiling brightly. But something was wrong.
That wasn¡¯t his hand she was holding.
Vision¡¯s gaze snapped downward, and his breath hitched. His own form stood still, untouched, while another hand¡ªsomeone else''s¡ªclasped Tuk¡¯s wrist, fingers curling around hers with a familiarity that sent a shiver down his spine. A face followed, one he knew all too well.
A future not yet written.
¡°Wait,¡± she said, her voice dropping slightly. ¡°Who are you?¡±
Vision exhaled slowly, pushing the intrusive image away. He had no time for this. ¡°No one of importance.¡±
Tuk tilted her head, her gaze lingering on him with undisguised fascination. "Really? Because someone with eyes like yours shouldn''t be hiding in the dark." She took a step closer, her expression unreadable. "They''re¡ ethereal. Like fragments of moonlight trapped in ice. And your skin¡ªit''s beautiful. Like the deepest night before dawn."
Vision stiffened. Compliments were a foreign thing, especially directed at features that had only ever set him apart as an outsider. He had been marked, scrutinized, and whispered about his entire life. But Tuk¡ªsomeone he had been assigned to watch¡ªspoke as if she saw something different. Something worth admiring.
He should have ignored her, should have disappeared as intended. And yet, for the first time in a long while, Vision hesitated.
"His Highness is waiting for you," he finally said, his voice low and measured.
Tuk flinched, the weight of those words snapping her out of the moment. "Right," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck before flashing him a quick grin. "Duty calls."
She turned on her heel and sprinted toward the prince''s office, but not before glancing back at him. "I hope we meet again, Moonlight Eyes."
Vision remained still, watching her disappear down the corridor. With a quiet exhale, he finally let himself fade into the shadows.
And yet, as he moved, one thought refused to let go.
If she¡¯s not an enemy¡ then why was she standing beside him?
---
Michaelli sat at the long table in his pavilion, absently twirling the stem of his goblet between his fingers. His mind was sharp, always calculating. Every movement, every word spoken in his presence was another piece of the larger game.
And tonight, he had a new piece to play with.
A quiet shuffle of feet near the entrance drew his attention.
Right on time.
Tuk entered, her posture composed, hands neatly folded behind her back¡ªan image of strict discipline befitting an advisor. If he didn¡¯t know better, he might have been fooled by the crisp precision of her movements, the measured cadence of her voice.
But he did know.
And that made this all the more entertaining.
¡°Your Highness, I¡¯ve compiled the answers you requested regarding your inquiry on the ¡®hearts¡¯ conflicts.¡± She placed the scrolls before him with practiced ease, her voice steady.
Michaelli didn¡¯t respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward, dragging his gaze deliberately over her, watching.
She stiffened.
He smirked. Too easy.
¡°Ah, Tuk,¡± he mused, his voice softening just enough to unsettle her. ¡°Always so diligent. It¡¯s truly¡ admirable.¡±
She hesitated, clearly caught off guard by his sudden change in tone.
¡°I¡ªthank you, Your Highness,¡± she answered, recovering quickly.
He hummed in amusement. Cautious. Wary. She still wasn¡¯t sure how to read him.
Good.
He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. ¡°You¡¯re rather skilled for a historian¡ªfar beyond what I expected. And your reflexes¡¡± He let the last word linger, his gaze flickering to her hands just in time to catch the slight twitch of her fingers.
Got you.
¡°I had excellent teachers,¡± she replied smoothly, but the subtle tension in her shoulders betrayed her.
Michaelli leaned back, arms folding across his chest. ¡°I¡¯m sure you did.¡± His voice dipped, teasing. ¡°Tell me, Tuk, have you ever considered a different profession? You¡¯d make an excellent spy.¡±
A sharp inhale. There it is.
Tuk masked it quickly, her expression now unreadable. ¡°I¡¯m afraid espionage requires a different skill set, Your Highness.¡±
Michaelli chuckled, watching the wary control in her stance. She was good¡ªbut not good enough.
He let the silence stretch between them, the weight of his gaze pressing against her composure. Then, ever so deliberately, he stood.
Tuk remained still, but he caught the shift in her weight¡ªready to move, ready to react.
Fascinating.
He took his time circling her, stepping close enough to catch the soft hitch in her breath.
Even better.
His fingers brushed the loose edge of her sleeve, a featherlight touch, barely there. ¡°Interesting,¡± he murmured. ¡°I could¡¯ve sworn I noticed callouses on your hands the other day¡ªnot the kind a historian earns from writing.¡± His gaze flickered to her hands before meeting her eyes. ¡°Have you never taken an interest in swordplay? You seem well-trained¡ even after the war in Homonhon.¡±
Michaelli smiled, slow and deliberate. Now, why would a historian need that?
Tuk swallowed, barely perceptible, her posture locked into rigid control.
His smirk deepened. So, you can be rattled after all.
(A/N: She always rattles, dude! Give her a break ??)
Her lips parted slightly, as if searching for a reply, but she quickly schooled her expression. ¡°Historians must be prepared for any dangers, Your Highness. I trained to defend myself.¡±
Ah. Clever.
He chuckled softly. So polite. So measured.
And so very obvious in her retreat.
His gaze roamed over her, slow and deliberate, just enough to make her shift under his scrutiny. ¡°Perhaps I should spar with you one day,¡± he mused. ¡°I¡¯d like to see what you¡¯re truly capable of.¡±
Tuk¡¯s jaw tightened, but there¡ªjust for a moment¡ªhe caught it. A flicker of something else in her eyes. Panic. Uncertainty.
She was trying too hard to stay still. Too aware of his presence.
Adorable.
¡°I would hardly be a match for a prince,¡± she said carefully.
Michaelli tapped his chin, pretending to consider. ¡°No?¡± His smirk widened. ¡°You wound me, Tuk. Here I thought we were getting along.¡±
She exhaled through her nose, her fingers curling ever so slightly at her sides.
She was not enjoying this conversation.
Perfect.
Michaelli took a step back, just enough to give her the illusion of space. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to be satisfied with words, then. After all, you are a historian, aren¡¯t you?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
He studied her. Most historians he encountered were cautious, meek, and entirely predictable. But her? She was different.
Her knowledge was too advanced. Her confidence too controlled. She didn¡¯t grovel, didn¡¯t simper, didn¡¯t fear his gaze. She knew exactly what she was doing.
And yet¡ she didn¡¯t feel like a threat.
No, she felt like a challenge.
¡°I suppose that¡¯s expected from an Elthorian,¡± Michaelli mused. ¡°Your people are known for their intelligence.¡±
Tuk gave a small bow. ¡°We take pride in it, Your Highness.¡±
Michaelli smirked. ¡°I can see that.¡±
Another breath through her nose. Another curl of her fingers.
She was barely holding herself together.
Good.
He cocked his head. ¡°Then tell me, historian, what do the records say about deception?¡±
Tuk stiffened. A small reaction, but he caught it¡ªthe brief pause before she spoke, the way her fingers flexed before relaxing.
She knew.
She knew he was playing with her.
She just didn¡¯t know how much he knew.
Michaelli lowered himself back into his chair, watching her like a predator watching prey. ¡°What?¡± he asked smoothly. ¡°No clever reply?¡±
Tuk inhaled, composing herself. ¡°Deception, Your Highness, is often used as a tool by both heroes and villains in history.¡±
Michaelli chuckled, resting his chin against his palm. ¡°How poetic.¡±
The faintest twitch of her brow. Ah, irritation.
But she was good at hiding it.
He liked that.
A slow smirk played at his lips. ¡°You must be well-versed in the art, then.¡±
Tuk¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Excuse me?¡±
Michaelli leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. ¡°You heard me.¡±
Silence stretched between them, taut and charged.
Then, finally, Tuk exhaled, carefully reassembling her expression. ¡°If I may, Your Highness,¡± she said, voice cool and respectful, ¡°I believe my presence is no longer required.¡±
Michaelli chuckled, entertained by her desperate attempt to retreat. ¡°Oh? Have I kept you too long?¡±
¡°No, Your Highness,¡± she replied evenly. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t want to bore you with my boring presence.¡±
He grinned. So polite. So measured. So obviously running away.
And he wouldn¡¯t let her.
Michaelli tilted his head, watching her with a lazy smirk. ¡°On the contrary, Tuk.¡± He let the pause stretch, savoring the way her lips pressed together. ¡°I find you¡ fascinating.¡±
There.
A reaction.
The briefest flicker of something in her eyes¡ªshock, suspicion, unease.
But before she could recover, he gave a dismissive wave. ¡°Go on, then,¡± he said easily, watching the rigid set of her shoulders as she bowed. ¡°But don¡¯t disappear just yet.¡±
Tuk hesitated. ¡°Your Highness?¡±
Michaelli leaned back, smiling. ¡°I¡¯d hate for my favorite advisor to vanish without a trace.¡±
Tuk¡¯s lips parted slightly as if considering a response, but she thought better of it. Instead, she turned swiftly, walking away with precise, controlled steps.
Michaelli watched her go, amusement curling in his chest.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
[[ Special Ending ]]
Outside, Tuk¡¯s legs nearly gave out. She clung to the door handle, her grip unsteady, fingers trembling despite her efforts to steady them.
Lately, the prince¡¯s questions had become harder to decipher, each one a thread leading somewhere she couldn¡¯t quite grasp. She had learned to brace herself before every meeting, expecting a test.
But this¡ªthis had not felt like a test.
It had felt like a hunt!
Chapter 46: The books of love
Prince Michaelli had never summoned Tuk to his private chamber before. So when his butler, Ethan, wordlessly led her to the prince¡¯s door, opened it, and then walked away without explanation, she was left standing there, confused.
Tuk hesitated at the entrance. The room was silent. Weird.
"Uhm¡ Your Highness?" she called out, taking a cautious step inside. Nothing. "Hello?"
Still no answer.
That guy¡ He calls me here and then doesn¡¯t even show up? What was she supposed to do¡ªwait? Leave?
She sighed. No, she was told to be here, so she might as well stay.
Relaxing slightly, she took a moment to survey the room. It was simple yet elegant, masculine but refined. Black furniture dominated the space, accented with gold and white. A few subtle hints of red added a striking contrast. Okay, five stars for color coordination. I respect the aesthetic.
She wandered around, peeking curiously at her surroundings. Where the hell is he? With no sign of the prince, she eventually plopped down onto the couch.
Minutes passed. Silence.
"..."
Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest. This is so boring.
After a while, she got up and walked to the door, hoping to find Ethan or at least someone outside.
Nothing.
Her brow furrowed. Shouldn¡¯t a prince¡¯s chamber be swarming with guards? Then again, who would dare mess with him? Tch. Must be nice to be that powerful.
With no other choice, she went back inside and sat down.
"I¡¯ll wait a little longer. Maybe he had an emergency or something," she muttered to herself.
But her eyes kept wandering. That¡¯s when they landed on a wall of bookshelves.
¡°¡¡±
She glanced around, just to be sure no one was watching, before standing up and walking over. Would checking a few of his books without permission get me in trouble? Probably. But curiosity was already winning.
She pulled out a random book, expecting something boring¡ªlaws, military strategies, maybe some dull historical records.
Instead¡
¡°¡Hah?¡±
She blinked. Flipped the page. Checked the title again.
It was a romance novel. And not just any romance¡ªan adult romance.
Her lips parted in disbelief. No way¡
Quickly, she grabbed another book.
Then another.
Tragic love stories. Forbidden romances. Sibling love. Every single book had one common theme: love and Romance
"So this is how he ¡®learns the heart,¡¯ huh? Should I be worried?" she scoffed, shaking her head.
Her gaze shifted toward the prince¡¯s bedside table, where another small stack of books rested. Some were neatly arranged, while others looked recently read.
Curious, she picked up the topmost book. The Guardian¡¯s Heart. A family-related story, maybe? The next one: A Mother¡¯s Embrace. Then she grabbed the last one¡ªCaging My Love with roses.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Tuk paused. ¡Caging?
A deep frown settled on her face as she flipped through the pages. The more she read, the deeper her scowl became.
Dark. Toxic. Chains. Obsession. A possessive love bordering on insanity.
"Oh, no. Absolutely not."
She slammed the book shut and set it aside. This one¡¯s gotta go. Can¡¯t have him thinking this is normal love.
One by one, she started reorganizing the books, pulling out anything that screamed bad romance¡ªanything with cages, ropes, manipulation, obsession, and other questionable themes. It felt less like cleaning and more like confiscating contraband.
By the time she was done, the ¡°forbidden¡± books were in a pile on the floor, and the shelves looked¡ significantly more wholesome.
She wiped her hands with satisfaction.
"Just where does he even find this stuff?" she muttered, gathering the discarded books.
Settling back onto the couch, she absently flipped one open.
Then another.
And another.
Before she knew it, she was lost in the stories¡ªblushing, gasping, and occasionally covering her mouth at the audacity of some of the scenes. ''Okay, okay¡ the scene and discription is really wild making me imagine if those position even possible, but the writing is actually pretty good.''
Time passed. She yawned and stretched, only then realizing just how long she had been waiting.
"That guy¡ He didn¡¯t forget he summoned me, right?"
She scowled at the thought.
These past few days, Prince Michaelli had been ordering her around with the most random tasks¡ªshowing her weapons she didn¡¯t care about, dragging her to dull meetings that nearly put her to sleep, and making her run errands with Lord Nixon.
At this point, she was starting to wonder if she was still a historian¡ or if she had somehow been downgraded to his personal maid.
Wait.
Her gaze flicked toward the bookshelves she had just reorganized.
Her eyes widened.
"Did¡ did I just clean his room?!"
She stared at her own hands, then let out a dry laugh. I¡¯ve been here too long.
Tuk gathered the books she had confiscated, stacking them neatly in her arms. Alright, time to get out of here before I somehow end up reorganizing his entire life too.
Just as she reached for the door handle, it swung open, and she nearly collided with Ethan, the prince¡¯s ever-composed butler. His sharp eyes immediately locked onto the books in her hands.
¡°My Lord,¡± he said, his tone polite but laced with curiosity. ¡°May I ask why you are carrying His Highness¡¯s books?¡±
Tuk blinked, then quickly composed herself. ¡°Oh, these? The prince told me before that I could take them with me.¡± She flashed a casual smile, hoping he wouldn¡¯t press further.
Ethan arched a brow, clearly skeptical. ¡°His Highness said that?¡±
¡°Yup!¡± Tuk nodded confidently. ¡°Word for word.¡± (Well¡ sort of. But let¡¯s not get caught up in the details.)
Ethan studied her for a moment before sighing. ¡°I see.¡±
Sensing an opportunity, Tuk shifted the topic. ¡°Speaking of the prince, where is he? I waited for hours in his chamber, and he never showed up.¡± She kept her tone even, but her patience was hanging by a very thin thread.
Ethan¡¯s eyes widened slightly before he let out a quiet, startled gasp. ¡°I, uh¡ may have forgotten to tell him you were waiting.¡±
A moment of silence stretched between them.
Tuk inhaled sharply. Don¡¯t snap. Don¡¯t snap.
She clenched her jaw, her grip tightening on the books. That absolute¡ª
Deep breath. Smile. Hold it in.
¡°You. Forgot.¡±
¡°Yes,¡± Ethan admitted, clearing his throat.
Tuk let out a slow, eerie chuckle. Ethan did not like that chuckle.
She nodded slowly, as if processing. ¡°Right. Right. So, just to summarize¡ªI was summoned, you forgot to tell him, I was left here marinating in boredom for hours, and now I find out he¡¯s been gone this whole time?¡±
Ethan, to his credit, looked genuinely remorseful. ¡°It appears so. I apologize.¡±
Tuk¡¯s patience was slipping like sand through her fingers.
¡°To be fair,¡± Ethan added cautiously, ¡°His Highness had urgent business in the south.¡±
Tuk inhaled deeply through her nose. ¡°Mmm. Of course. Urgent business.¡± Her voice was calm. Too calm. Dangerously calm.
Ethan took a small step back. Probably for his own safety.
¡°I see,¡± she said sweetly. ¡°Well then, I suppose I¡¯ll just go back?¡±
¡°Then allow me to guide you¡ª¡±
¡°No need,¡± Tuk cut him off, turning sharply on her heel. If you follow me, I might just do something unforgivable. She didn¡¯t say it aloud, but her eyes did all the talking.
Ethan, ever perceptive, wisely chose not to argue.
She stomped down the hall, grumbling under her breath like an old man.
Summon me and then ghost me? And then his butler forgets? Unbelievable. Makes me wait for hours¡ªhe¡¯s doing this on purpose, isn¡¯t he? What¡¯s next? Does he expect me to fold his clothes? Tuck him in at night? Read him a bedtime story?!
Ethan watched her go, sighed, then glanced back into the prince¡¯s room before quietly closing the door again.
[[ Special Ending- Prince POV ]]
That night, Prince Michaelli stepped into his chamber, rolling his shoulders as he exhaled. The trip to the south had been exhausting, and all he wanted was a moment of peace.
But something felt¡ off.
His sharp gaze swept across the room. It was subtle, but he could tell¡ªthings weren¡¯t exactly as he had left them. His weapons were precisely where they should be, his clothes and secret doors untouched, yet¡
His room felt cleaner.
His brow furrowed.
¡°¡Ethan,¡± he called, voice calm yet firm.
The butler, ever-efficient, stepped inside. ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±
Michaelli glanced around again before resting his piercing gaze on him. ¡°Did someone clean my room?¡±
Ethan clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°Ah. That would be the historian, Tuk.¡±
A beat of silence.
¡°¡Tuk?¡± Michaelli¡¯s expression was unreadable, though there was the slightest arch of his brow.
¡°Yes, Your Highness. She waited here for hours. I, ah¡ may have forgotten to inform you of her arrival.¡±
Michaelli simply stared at him.
Ethan held firm under the gaze of royalty for exactly three seconds before looking away, clearing his throat. ¡°A slight oversight.¡±
Michaelli¡¯s eyes narrowed.
Ethan shifted, suddenly finding the floor quite interesting. ¡°¡A regrettable one.¡±
The prince continued staring.
Ethan caved. ¡°A highly unfortunate lapse in judgment.¡±
Michaelli raised an eyebrow.
Ethan sighed. ¡°A monumental failure on my part, the shame of which I shall carry for the rest of my days.¡±
Michaelli tilted his head ever so slightly.
¡°¡I should probably apologize to the lord, shouldn¡¯t I?¡± Ethan admitted.
The prince finally looked away, exhaling through his nose. ¡°I suspect it¡¯s already too late.¡±
Ethan winced, recalling the eerie chuckle Tuk had let out earlier. Yes¡ too late indeed.
But Michaelli wasn¡¯t finished. His gaze shifted to his bookshelves. His once-carefully arranged collection¡ looked different.
His lips parted slightly as he slowly approached. A hand lifted toward the shelves¡ªhovered¡ªthen retracted as if in disbelief.
His books had been reorganized.
He turned back to Ethan, expression unreadable.
¡°¡What else did she do?¡±
Ethan hesitated. ¡°Ah. Well. It seems she, ah¡ curated your book selection.¡±
Michaelli blinked once. Twice.
¡°¡Curated.¡±
Ethan coughed lightly. ¡°Yes, she may have¡ removed certain books she deemed questionable.¡±
Another silence.
¡°¡Questionable.¡±
¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±
Michaelli hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ¡°I see.¡±
¡°He also took a few books with her,¡± Ethan added casually.
The prince¡¯s fingers stilled mid-thought.
¡°¡She what?¡±
¡°Your books, Your Highness,¡± Ethan clarified. ¡°He said you told her she could take them.¡±
Michaelli¡¯s sharp eyes flicked toward his bedside table. The feeling of off suddenly made sense. A few books were missing.
A slow smirk tugged at the prince¡¯s lips. He took a step closer, scanning the remaining titles. Then, realization settled in.
Most of the books she had taken¡ªhe had already read them.
Ethan bowed slightly. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else, I shall take my leave.¡±
The prince waved him off absentmindedly. ¡°Go.¡±
As the door shut behind his butler, Michaelli let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in amusement.
He leaned against the table, tapping a finger against its surface.
It seemed her little bird had quite the interesting hobby.
His golden eyes flickered with intrigue.
He completely misunderstood Tuk¡¯s intention.
Chapter 47: The Treacherous Tea
Prince Michaelli¡¯s suspicion toward Tuk never wavered. Even now, as he summoned her¡ªnot for a report, not for research, but to prepare tea of all things. Her audacity remained intact.
He had given her countless opportunities to poison him. Yet she hadn¡¯t taken a single one.
If her goal isn¡¯t my death, then what is it?
Perhaps he wasn¡¯t trying hard enough.
¡°I apologize if this sounds audacious,¡± Tuk began, her tone polite but clipped, a businesslike smile plastered across her face. ¡°But I¡¯m not a servant, Your Highness.¡±
¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± the prince replied smoothly, not bothering to glance up from his papers. ¡°And I didn¡¯t ask.¡±
Tuk¡¯s smile tightened. A faint flush crept up her neck. ¡°Right,¡± she muttered. ¡°Shall I call a servant to prepare your tea, then?¡±
¡°No.¡±
His voice dripped with mockery as he finally looked up, his smirk sharp as a blade. ¡°I want you to make it.¡±
Her lips parted, ready with a retort¡ªbut she forced it down with an exhale. Without another word, she turned to the tea station in the corner of the room.
Her steps were deliberate.
Her silence was pointed.
The soft snap of the tea caddy echoed in the stillness. Each movement was precise, borderline aggressive, as she prepared the brew with the air of someone wielding a weapon rather than a teapot.
Michaelli¡¯s lips twitched in amusement. He turned to Nixon, who stood nearby, clinging to his ledger like a lifeline. ¡°How are the crystals?¡±
Nixon adjusted his glasses, scanning a thick volume. ¡°The situation remains unresolved despite our offerings to Cyralune. If anything, the creatures have grown more mischievous. Several collectors have lost their way to the Cave of Crystaliana.¡±
The prince¡¯s fingers drummed against the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tuk approach with a tray. She placed a steaming cup before him with the careful grace of someone trying very hard not to fling it at his face.
Michaelli picked up the cup, took a sip while reading the report, and instantly regretted it.
His entire face contorted. He pulled the cup away, eyeing the murky liquid as if it had personally insulted him.
¡°What is this?¡± he demanded.
Tuk¡¯s brow lifted, her polite mask firmly in place. ¡°Tea, Your Highness.¡±
¡°This isn¡¯t tea.¡± He set the cup down sharply. ¡°This is¡ªthis is leaves floating in water. How do you expect me to drink this?¡±
¡°How should I know?¡± Tuk shot back. ¡°I¡¯m not a servant trained in the art of tea-making.¡±
Her tone was so composed, so painfully neutral, that it took Nixon a moment to process the sheer audacity of her words.
Michaelli stared at her.
Tuk stared back, unrelenting.
A slow smirk crept onto the prince¡¯s lips. ¡°Are you trying to poison me?¡±
¡°I assure you, Your Highness, if I wanted to poison you, I¡¯d use something far more effective.¡±
Silence.
Nixon choked on absolutely nothing. His soul quietly left his body.
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Michaelli¡¯s gaze lingered on Tuk, studying her as though peeling back layers, searching for the crack in her fa?ade.
Her patience was already wearing thin today, and the fact that she was on her period was not helping. She inhaled sharply, forced a serene smile, and folded her hands neatly before her.
¡°Well?¡± she asked sweetly. ¡°Are you going to finish your tea, Your Highness?¡±
Michaelli tilted his head, his smirk deepening. ¡°Tell me, Tuk. Is this an assassination attempt or a diplomatic offense?¡±
Tuk shrugged. ¡°Depends. Are you still breathing?¡±
Nixon¡¯s grip on his ledger tightened to the brink of tearing it in half.
Michaelli leaned back, utterly entertained, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair. ¡°You have an impressive lack of fear.¡±
¡°Oh, I have fear.¡± Tuk smiled. ¡°I just prioritize my dignity over it.¡±
The prince let out a soft chuckle, one that sent a strange flicker through Tuk¡¯s chest. He lifted the teacup again but didn¡¯t drink. Instead, he swirled the liquid thoughtfully.
¡°You are aware,¡± he said smoothly, ¡°that if this tea were any worse, it might qualify as an act of treason?¡±
Tuk crossed her arms. ¡°You¡¯re aware that if you wanted decent tea, you should have asked someone who knows how to make it?¡±
Michaelli hummed, unconvinced, but clearly entertained. Then, with all the arrogance of a man who had never suffered consequences for his whims, he pushed the cup toward her.
¡°Drink it.¡±
Tuk blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡±
¡°If it¡¯s good enough for me, surely it¡¯s good enough for you.¡±
For a moment, she hesitated. This was another game of his. A test.
And damn it¡ªshe hated to lose.
Maintaining perfect eye contact, she reached for the cup. Lifted it. And took a sip.
Instant. Regret.
The bitterness attacked her tongue like a vengeful spirit. She struggled not to gag. Not to cough. Not to betray a single ounce of weakness.
She swallowed.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Then she set the cup down with the same composure as a war general delivering bad news.
Michaelli watched her.
Tuk met his gaze with unwavering, deadpan calm.
¡°Well?¡± he prompted, amusement dancing in his eyes.
She inhaled.
Paused.
Then, with perfect composure, she said¡ª
¡°¡Exquisite.¡±
Nixon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a muffled scream.
Michaelli barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking with genuine amusement. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, eyes gleaming with interest. ¡°Oh, Tuk. I might just keep you around for my own entertainment.¡±
Tuk, still battling the aftertaste of her own atrocity, mustered a tight-lipped smile.
¡°You already do, Your Highness.¡±
And with that, she turned on her heel, determined to salvage what little dignity she had left¡ªleaving Michaelli smirking behind her and then
"oh, wait."
She froze, forcing her expression into polite neutrality before turning back. "Yes, Your Highness?"
Prince Michaelli leaned back in his chair, tapping a sealed letter against his knuckles. "I received another summons from the emperor." His tone was laced with irritation. "I expected doubts about our so-called ''courting,'' but it seems we''ve only stoked the flames. The high court has summoned us."
Tuk shot him a wary glance, but her gaze barely flicked toward the letter. "What do you mean ''us,'' Your Highness?" she asked, her voice edged with suspicion.
Michaelli¡¯s response was maddeningly casual. "You are my love advisor."
Tuk¡¯s ears burned at the title. She despised it¡ªevery mention of ''love advisor'' made her skin crawl. "With all due respect, why must I be involved?"
The prince''s golden eyes sharpened. "Because it¡¯s your duty to help me avoid this predicament, is it not?" He leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth but pointed. "As an imperial prince, refusing to choose a Prime Consort¡ªan heir-bearer¡ªwould be political suicide. I bought time through military victories, bargaining my triumphs for their silence. But now that the dust has settled, the court strikes again. We framed ¡®love¡¯ and ¡®courting¡¯ as vital steps using the Arcanographica, which stalled the selection¡ªuntil now."
Tuk¡¯s fingers curled slightly. The look on her face practically screamed, Why don¡¯t you just bed someone and end this mess? But before she could voice anything, Michaelli¡¯s gaze flickered dangerously, catching the thought she didn¡¯t say aloud.
"Choose your words wisely, little advisor," he warned, his smile turned cold.
Tuk swallowed. The shift in his demeanor sent a shiver down her spine.
A cough from Nixon broke the tension. "Your Highness, regarding Cyralune¡ªperhaps we should assign Lulusia?"
Michaelli¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t leave Tuk, but he addressed Nixon. "Lulusia?"
"As a hybrid and Crimson Rank, she may be able to communicate with the Cyralunians more effectively. It would be... a gentler approach."
Michaelli pondered for a moment, his gaze flicking toward the flickering candlelight. "The Cyralunians guard Crystaliana fiercely¡ªthey are deified protectors, after all. A commander would be overkill, but... Lulusia could handle it. Very well. Send word to her."
Nixon bowed, swiftly gathering signed orders before exiting the room.
Silence returned.
"Well?" Michaelli prodded.
Tuk¡¯s voice, unusually hesitant, broke through. "You mentioned the high court. Does that mean... the emperor himself will be there?"
The prince¡¯s expression was unreadable. "Indeed. And Duke Velmar, the Marquess... the entire high court. It¡¯s my trial, after all."
Tuk paled. The weight of his words sank into her bones. This wasn¡¯t just another ploy¡ªthis was a battlefield far worse than any warfront. The emperor, the high court, the nobles who wielded power like weapons... this was a political coliseum, and she was about to be thrown into the pit. Fear cracked through her mask.
Michaelli¡¯s sharp eyes softened¡ªjust a fraction. "I know it¡¯s sudden. But you¡¯ve proven your worth. I trust you can handle this, as you have handled everything else."
Tuk¡¯s voice wavered. "Your Highness... I¡¯m not confident. I thought my duty was decoding the scrolls¡ªthe ones I know nothing about. I don¡¯t understand why we¡¯re racing to decipher them or what power they hold... I just... I feel blind. Without answers, I¡ª"
The prince stood without a word and moved to the tea set. The clink of porcelain filled the room, soft and deliberate. He returned, placing a cup before her.
"Sit," he ordered gently.
Tuk obeyed, confusion tightening in her chest. Michaelli¡¯s voice dropped to a serious cadence. "Ask me. What do you wish to know?"
Tuk¡¯s heart pounded.
This was it. Her chance to uncover the scrolls¡¯ secrets¡ªthe power that could lead her home. Drinking the tea and becoming his amusement was worth it.
Chapter 48: The Empire of Marceau
Tuk¡¯s heart pounded, a relentless drum against her ribs. This was her only chance. The prince was offering her an opportunity to ask¡ªthere was no way she¡¯d let it slip. This was what she had always wanted: the truth about the scrolls.
¡°I want to know what the Arcanographica really is, Your Highness.¡±
The prince studied her for a moment, tapping his fingers idly against the table. The soft, rhythmic sound filled the silence between them, a quiet warning of his contemplation.
¡°In order for me to protect you using the scrolls, I need to know what they truly are,¡± Tuk added, her voice steady despite the tightness in her throat. ¡°Not just what we¡¯ve been told¡ªbut the real truth.¡±
Michaelli sighed deeply, the exhale slow and measured, as if weighing the weight of the knowledge he held. He lifted his cup, the delicate porcelain clicking softly against his ring as he took a deliberate sip of tea. The scent of spices and something floral drifted between them before he leaned back in his seat.
¡°For you to understand, I need to start from the beginning,¡± he said. Then, his golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, like molten metal shifting under the fire¡¯s glow. ¡°Do you know the history of Marceau?¡±
Tuk froze. A chill crept down her spine, as if the air had suddenly turned colder.
¡°N-no, Your Highness,¡± she admitted, swallowing against the dryness in her throat.
The prince arched a brow, his expression unreadable. ¡°Where did you say you were from again?¡±
Tuk blinked. ¡°¡The Kingdom of Ellis, in Elthor.¡±
Michaelli tilted his head slightly, watching her too closely for comfort. ¡°You sound unsure.¡±
Tuk straightened, forcing herself to appear composed despite the weight of his scrutiny pressing down on her shoulders. ¡°Well, since my kingdom is gone, I don¡¯t know how to properly address it anymore. Besides, I currently reside in Marceau. In your palace.¡±
Michaelli smirked. The curve of his lips was almost playful, yet there was an edge beneath it¡ªsomething sharp, something knowing. ¡°You¡¯re good at dodging things. So quick-witted. I like that.¡±
Tuk tilted her head slightly, uncertain whether it was a compliment or a veiled accusation.
¡°Even so, not knowing Marceau¡¯s history is suspicious,¡± he continued, his tone dipping into something quieter, more dangerous. ¡°Everyone knows what this empire stands for, yet you claim you don¡¯t?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve never been fond of history, Your Highness,¡± she admitted, fingers curling slightly against her lap. ¡°I was always too busy surviving the present to dwell on the past.¡±
The prince regarded her for a long moment before exhaling sharply. The tension in the air thickened, wrapping around Tuk like an unseen force.
¡°Very well. I¡¯ll tell you myself.¡±
He set his cup down with a quiet clink, then began.
¡°Long before Marceau became an empire, it was nothing more than an unforgiving desert, a land where only the strongest survived. Nomadic tribes roamed the dunes, warring over the few sources of water and shelter. Life was harsh, ruled by survival. Weakness meant death. Emotions had no place.¡±
Tuk listened intently, each word sinking into her bones like a whispered omen.
¡°Amid this chaos, a powerful warrior, Marcellus Arvad, emerged. Unlike other warlords who sought only plunder and power, he had a vision: to unite the desert under a single banner and bring order to the sands. He waged war not just with weapons but with strategy, forcing rival tribes into submission, laying the foundation of what would become the Land of Marcellus.
Under his rule, desert cities flourished, built on discipline, resilience, and unwavering loyalty. But at the heart of his philosophy was one unshakable belief: love is a weakness that leads to ruin.¡±
Michaelli¡¯s fingers drummed against the table, slower now, more deliberate. ¡°I didn¡¯t learn this from the histories people commonly know. The truth was locked away in the restricted archives, accessible only to the ruling family.¡±
Tuk¡¯s breath hitched slightly, but the prince continued.
He leaned back. ¡°Marceau was never a kingdom of poets or dreamers¡ªonly conquerors. Marcellus Arvad saw emotions as the greatest weakness. One betrayal. One moment of hesitation. That¡¯s all it takes to turn a ruler into a fool.¡±
A heavy silence filled the room, pressing against Tuk¡¯s ribs like an invisible weight. Then he continued, his voice smooth as silk.
¡°The histories speak of Marcellus as a visionary, but the hidden texts tell a different story. He didn¡¯t just ban love¡ªhe had proof. Kingdoms that burned over passion, rulers who lost everything over a woman¡¯s tears. He established a nation where emotions were severed, and only the strong survived. ¡°Marceau,¡± he murmured. ¡°In the old desert tongue, it means ¡®to sever.¡¯ That is the foundation of our empire¡ªcutting away weakness before it spreads.¡±
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Tuk shivered.
Michaelli set his cup down. ¡°That is why love does not exist in Marceau.¡±
She swallowed hard.
Michaelli smirked, amused by her reaction. ¡°And yet, you stood in my court and uttered the word without hesitation.¡±
Tuk paled. ¡°D-does that mean I¡ª¡±
She gasped, tightening her grip on the table¡¯s edge, the cool wood biting into her skin. A cold dread curled around her spine, seeping into her bones. ¡°Me introducing the word again using the Arcanographica¡ªdoes that mean I could be executed?!¡±
The prince smirked, a lazy, amused expression that somehow felt sharper than any blade.
¡°Your fearlessness and naivety know no bounds.¡± His voice was a velvety taunt. ¡°I thought you understood the risks when you spoke in my court. But I suppose your bravado comes from sheer ignorance.¡±
Heat flared in Tuk¡¯s cheeks, both from embarrassment and frustration. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let his amusement rattle her further.
Michaelli took a sip of his tea, the porcelain clicking softly against his lips, before setting it down with deliberate ease.
¡°You have nothing to fear.¡± His voice softened, just slightly. ¡°No one will harm you. Not while you belong to me.¡±
Tuk exhaled, though her fingers still trembled faintly against the tabletop. His words should have been reassuring¡ªbut why did they feel like a cage closing around her instead?
¡°T-then¡ if ¡®love¡¯ is such a taboo word, why did the court accept it when I mentioned it back then?¡± she asked hesitantly.
The prince¡¯s lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. The kind that sent an icy prickle down her spine.
¡°That,¡± he murmured, ¡°is because of the Arcanographica.¡±
Tuk swallowed, unease pooling in her stomach.
¡°When I conquered Ellis, a once-princess introduced the scroll to me,¡± Michaelli continued. His voice turned distant, almost pensive, as if recalling something both fascinating and repulsive. ¡°At the time, no one knew what it was or why it existed. But its power was undeniable.¡±
Without another word, he lifted his teaspoon between his fingers. The silver glinted under the candlelight. Then, before her eyes, it twisted and reshaped itself into a small, gleaming dagger.
Tuk¡¯s breath caught.
Magic.
No¡ªnot just magic. A force beyond her comprehension.
¡°I became a Keeper of its fragment,¡± Michaelli said, twirling the blade between his fingers. ¡°It allows me to manipulate my surroundings. And more importantly¡¡± His eyes flicked to hers. ¡°It lets me sense others who possess its pieces.¡±
Tuk¡¯s pulse pounded in her ears. So this ¡®power¡¯ he always spoke of wasn¡¯t just political authority¡ªit was something far more terrifying.
¡°But power always carries danger,¡± Michaelli continued, voice unwavering. ¡°To bring the scroll back to Marceau and study it, I had to convince the court. So, I gave them a reason.¡±
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
¡°I tied it to history.¡±
Tuk¡¯s stomach dropped.
¡°I didn¡¯t lie,¡± Michaelli murmured, voice like silk. ¡°I simply¡ adjusted the truth. No one knows what the Arcanographica really is, only that it was mentioned in the earliest records of Marceau¡¯s founding. A mere whisper among the texts.¡± He tapped a finger against the table. ¡°I made that whisper louder. Told them Marcellus himself had encountered its power and left behind hidden knowledge only the worthy could uncover.¡±
Tuk could only stare.
Michaelli¡¯s smirk faded, replaced by something far colder. With an almost lazy motion, he drove the dagger into the table¡ªdeep enough that the wood groaned in protest.
The air felt heavy, suffocating.
¡°Everything you¡¯ve learned in this room stays here, Tuk.¡± His voice was smooth, deliberate. ¡°Otherwise¡ you won¡¯t have the chance to regret it.¡±
The dagger¡¯s hilt still trembled from the force of his strike, but his gaze remained steady¡ªgolden, gleaming, and utterly merciless.
He had manipulated history itself. Twisted it in his favor.
The candlelight flickered, stretching shadows along the walls, and in that moment, Michaelli felt less like a prince¡ªnot the prince of the underworld, but something far older, like an ancient villain¡ªuntouchable.
He¡¯s too much, Tuk thought, her hands pressing against her lap to steady herself.
Too much... for me to handle.
Chapter 49: New Title Demand
Michaelli observed Tuk in silence, his gaze steady, calculating. The weight of his attention settled over her like an iron shackle, unrelenting and precise. Then, he leaned back slightly, the movement effortless, swirling the remnants of his tea. The rich, earthy aroma curled between them, mingling with the faint scent of aged parchment and candle wax.
"Now that you know the origins of Marceau¡¯s laws," he mused, his voice smooth yet laced with something unreadable, "do you believe it¡¯s enough for you to find a solution to our predicament?"
Tuk furrowed her brows, deep in thought, feeling the tension coil in her stomach. The prince had just revealed how love had been stripped from the empire¡¯s history, reshaped into something forbidden. And yet, here she was¡ªstanding at the center of a court that had already begun entertaining the word again. The weight of possibility pressed against her ribs, sharp and insistent. If she played this right, she could shift the conversation entirely.
A long, measured moment passed before she lifted her head, meeting the prince¡¯s expectant gaze. His golden eyes gleamed under the flickering candlelight, patient, waiting.
"I do have one request, Your Highness," she said carefully, each syllable deliberate.
Michaelli raised a brow, intrigued. "Go on."
"If I successfully navigate the court¡ªif I prove myself capable of handling this role¡ªthen I want you to change my title." Tuk straightened, her voice unwavering. "No more ¡®Love Advisor.¡¯"
The prince tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in the depths of his gaze. "You dislike it that much?"
"It''s misleading," she said plainly. "And if I am to maneuver through the empire¡¯s politics, I need a title that grants me credibility, not cringeworthy."
A chuckle, low and knowing, escaped him. "Then what do you propose?"
Tuk hesitated. She hadn¡¯t thought that far ahead. But before she could form an answer, the prince tapped his fingers against the table and smirked.
"How about ¡®Royal Scholar of Hearts¡¯?"
Tuk blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected weight of it.
He continued, his voice light but edged with meaning. "It ties to matters of the heart¡ªnot in the foolish romantic sense, but in history, philosophy, and strategy. No one can argue against the importance of a scholar, after all."
She considered it, rolling the words over in her mind. The title had weight. It had purpose. It reframed her role into something far more powerful than what the court originally mocked. A slow, deliberate smile spread across her lips, satisfaction humming in her chest.
"I like it."
"Naturally," Michaelli said smugly, taking another sip of tea. He kept the porcelain cup in his hands, though his attention never wavered from her.
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Tuk exhaled before adding, "But I must ask for one more thing."
"Oh?" His golden eyes gleamed with amusement.
"I may be creating enemies beyond my reach," she pointed out. "If I am to play this role properly, I need full protection. No noble, no faction, no hidden enemy should be able to touch me without consequences."
Michaelli¡¯s smirk deepened, clearly entertained. "You truly do think ahead, don¡¯t you?"
"I have to," she replied simply.
The prince tapped the rim of his cup thoughtfully before setting it down with a decisive clink. The sound echoed in the quiet chamber, final and absolute. "Very well. I grant you full protection under my name. Anyone who dares to act against you will answer to me."
A small shiver ran down Tuk¡¯s spine at the weight of his words. The prince was a terrifying man to have as an enemy¡ªbut as an ally, he was just as formidable.
She met his gaze, and for the first time, something settled between them. Not trust, not yet. But understanding.
Michaelli leaned back in his chair, studying her with an amused glint in his eyes. Their agreement had been sealed¡ªa pact between two minds sharp enough to carve paths through the treacherous court.
Tuk, for once, felt a sense of control in this game. But just as the prince was about to dismiss her, she spoke up again.
"One last request, Your Highness," she said, glancing over her shoulder.
Michaelli arched a brow, the dim light catching in his golden irises. "You¡¯re quite demanding today."
Tuk ignored the remark, clasping her hands behind her back. "I want access to the original scroll in the historian¡¯s office¡ªthe one in the glass case."
The air thickened, a beat of silence stretching between them.
The prince tapped his fingers against the armrest, golden eyes narrowing slightly. The candlelight danced over the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the slow smirk that curled at his lips. "Interesting choice," he murmured, his voice a quiet thread of intrigue.
Tuk remained still, steady. Waiting.
Michaelli¡¯s smirk deepened. "Do you even know what that scroll contains?"
"No," she admitted, "but I suspect it holds something worth reading."
A chuckle, low and knowing, slipped from his lips. He tilted his head, watching her as if she were an amusing puzzle he had yet to solve. Then, he rose to his feet, his movements unhurried, precise. The space between them shrank as he stepped closer, his presence carrying a weight that could not be ignored.
"Very well," he said, voice rich with intrigue. "But don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you."
The air between them tensed, humming with unspoken challenge, a game not yet played to its end.
And with that, the deal was struck.
The chapter ends here.
Chapter 50: The Trial of the Heart
[[ After three weeks ]]
The Grand Court of Marceau was as harsh and cold as the desert winds outside. Towering black stone columns stretched to the sky, their jagged surfaces swallowing the golden sunlight that bled through the high windows, casting long, eerie shadows across the polished obsidian floor. The air was thick with tension¡ªcloaked nobles adorned in silks threaded with gold, warlords with hardened faces lined by years of battle, and scholars whose keen eyes flitted across the scene, all gathered like vultures awaiting their share of the feast.
At the heart of the court stood Prince Michaelli, tall and proud, his expression unreadable. His victories on the battlefield had etched his name into legend, but today, he faced a battle he could not win with swords¡ªthe selection of a royal concubine. A war of expectations, of shackles disguised as duty. A war he loathed.
Beside him, wrapped in a deep red cloak that draped over her small frame like a whisper of defiance, stood Tuk, his love advisor. Though she was smaller than most in stature, her presence commanded attention, unwavering and undeniable. There was steel in her gaze, sharp and unyielding. In her hands rested an ancient scroll, its surface sealed with a dragon¡¯s mark¡ªthe Arcanographica.
From the high throne, Emperor Augustus spoke. His voice, aged but unwavering, thundered through the grand hall, rattling against the stone like a war drum.
"Imperial Prince," he declared, his gaze as cold as the marble beneath his feet. "You have brought glory to Marceau, but the empire demands more than victories. It needs an heir. At twenty-eight, you have long surpassed the court¡¯s expectations. As the last heir of Marceau, you need to fulfill your duty. You will not evade this duty any longer."
A murmur rippled through the assembly, greedy eyes gleaming like polished gems in candlelight. The daughters of noble houses stood poised, their hands delicately folded, their gazes filled with veiled ambition. Each one a carefully groomed prize, each father a calculating hand in the game of power.
Michaelli¡¯s jaw clenched. The emperor knew why he was the only one left. Why, despite his many sons from countless concubines, the throne had only one rightful heir. The memory was a sickness, festering beneath his skin, refusing to fade.
Blood on the sand. Their screams lost in the deafening roar of the crowd.
For a fleeting moment, the grand hall twisted into something else. Shadows shifted, warping into the stone walls of the arena¡ªwhere, under the unyielding gaze of the empire, the sons of Augustus were made to fight for survival.
The sickening grins. The raucous cheers. The twisted amusement flickering in the eyes of nobles as they watched princes slaughter one another like beasts for sport.
And among them, his brother.
"If you can¡¯t hold your sword, you¡¯ll die."
Michaelli still remembered the weight of the blade in his trembling hands, how his brother had guided it to his own heart, his expression unreadable yet calm. A fleeting, final kindness in a world that demanded cruelty.
He hadn¡¯t understood it then. Only that he had to survive. That if he hesitated, he would be next.
The ghost of that moment curled around him now, cold fingers gripping his throat. The past and present blurred. The nobles'' smiles no different from those who had once watched him struggle for his life.
He forced himself to breathe. Forced the tremor from his hands.
Before he could speak, a voice cut through the murmurs.
"Your Imperial Majesty." Tuk stepped forward, her movement graceful yet deliberate. Her voice, soft but sharp, sliced through the air like a blade.
She lifted the scroll with reverence, the ancient parchment catching the candlelight. "Let the Arcanographica guide us. To defy its will is to defy fate."
The hall fell into a tense silence, thick as honey. Even the Emperor¡¯s gaze sharpened. The scroll, a relic of Marcellus Arvad, the empire¡¯s founder, was revered beyond question. A tether to a forgotten era of power.
Tuk broke the seal. The whisper of parchment unfurling sent a hush through the court, as if the very air held its breath. Then, she recited, her voice steady, unwavering, the cadence of prophecy laced with something older than time itself:
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"I, who hold the wealth and power of the mighty one, bless each piece to the strong heart. With a promise bound in my hand, no one with a sinful heart shall hold the power within our hearts."
The letters shimmered, glowing gold against the brittle parchment as if reacting to her voice. A collective gasp rippled through the room. The weight of something unseen pressed against the gathered audience, as if the very stones of the court recognized the magic¡¯s presence.
Tuk pressed on, unfazed:
¡°A heart given by force shall birth a shadow, and from that shadow, ruin will rise.
Only she who walks through the storm of desire and emerges unburned
May stand beside the dragon¡¯s chosen without breaking his heart or his will.¡±
Unease coiled through the chamber like smoke. The words stirred something primal¡ªfear, reverence, uncertainty. What shadow? What storm?
Tuk met the Emperor¡¯s gaze, and though her voice remained steady, it carried the weight of a challenge.
"Your Majesty, let us obey the scroll. Let only those pure of heart step forward and face the trial."
The room teetered on the edge of anticipation, a knife balanced upon its tip.
"What trial?" demanded Duke Velmar, his voice cutting through the tension like a whip. His daughter stood beside him, her chin raised high, lips pressed into an entitled smirk. "This is foolishness!"
Tuk¡¯s lips curled slightly. She reached the scroll to the duke¡ªthe Seventh Scroll, the Blessing to the Strong Heart. She unrolled it on the floor, and a circle of shimmering light formed around it.
"The scroll will decide," Tuk said simply. "Let the women cross this ring. If their hearts hold greed or false desire, the scroll will reject them."
The Emperor¡¯s eyes gleamed with intrigue. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
"Very well," he murmured. "Let the trial begin."
Lady Arlis was the first. She strode forward, her silken gown trailing behind her in regal waves. But the moment she crossed the threshold¡ª
¡ªa searing blast of heat erupted, hurling her backward. Flames devoured the hem of her gown, the silk curling into embers. A shriek tore from her throat as she collapsed, her pride burning alongside the smoldering fabric.
Gasps choked the court.
The second woman stepped forward, a general¡¯s niece. The instant her foot touched the glowing ring, frost spiderwebbed across her gown. Her lips parted in a silent gasp as her breath turned to mist, ice licking up her skin like a frozen vice. She crumpled, convulsing, her lips tinged blue.
Then another. And another.
Scorching fire, suffocating cold, shadows that coiled like vipers¡ªone by one, they all failed.
By the time the twelfth woman fled in tears, the court was in chaos.
Michaelli exhaled through his nose, a ghost of amusement flickering in his gold-tinged eyes. He slid a glance at Tuk, who remained composed, her hands folded as if none of this was remotely surprising.
"You enjoy causing trouble," he murmured, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
Tuk¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t lift to meet his, but the faint smirk that played at her lips did not escape him.
"I enjoy solving problems," she answered softly. "Especially yours."
A low chuckle rumbled in Michaelli¡¯s chest. She was dangerous¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t deny he was impressed. She had turned the whole court into her stage.
As the nobles scattered, licking their wounds, the golden light of the setting sun bathed the court in warm hues. Yet between Michaelli and Tuk, the air remained cool, charged with an undercurrent neither acknowledged aloud.
When all the noble daughters had failed, the Emperor looked irritated, silently reassessing Tuk. Then, his voice cut through the confusion.
"Enough!" he roared, and the hall fell silent. His sharp gaze settled on Tuk. "It seems the scrolls have yet to deem any woman in my empire worthy of carrying the prince''s heir. For now."
The words ¡®for now¡¯ hung heavy in the air.
Tuk stepped forward, her voice steady. "That is precisely why I have suggested an alternative solution, Your Imperial Majesty." She met the Emperor¡¯s gaze with unwavering confidence. "In my hometown, we believe that a heart can be moved through ¡®courting.¡¯ The results may not be immediate, but once the first signs appear, no heart¡ªno matter how strong¡ªcan resist."
The Emperor¡¯s eyes narrowed. "And what would be the result of that?"
Tuk smiled. She let the weight of her words settle before answering, "An heir, blessed by the Holy Dragon himself."
A beat of silence.
Then, the Emperor¡¯s laughter echoed through the grand hall. Amused¡ªor perhaps convinced before he gave a nod of approval.
The trial ended, but the tension did not.
As the nobles departed in whispers, their pride bruised and their schemes shattered, the golden light of the setting sun bathed the court in warm hues. Yet, between Michaelli and Tuk, the air remained cool and sharp.
"You¡¯ve successfully made enemies," Michaelli murmured as they walked. "They¡¯ll come for you now."
Tuk, unshaken, replied simply, "I trust in His Imperial Highness¡¯s protection. I will rely on you from now on."
Michaelli chuckled his steps unhurried as they walked side by side through the shadowed halls. His voice dropped low, a teasing whisper brushing her ear, "Thank you, Bait."
Tuk shot him a sharp glare, clearly irritated¡ªuntil he reached out, tapping her head with two fingers. A simple touch, fleeting yet deliberate. Her breath hitched, and though she tried to mask it, the faintest squirm in her step betrayed her.
Michaelli caught it. His smirk deepened, slow and knowing. The corner of his mouth tugged into a small, victorious smile.
But as the playful silence stretched between them, something unexpected stirred within him¡ªa flicker of warmth, subtle and unfamiliar, yet persistent.
It wasn¡¯t admiration. It wasn¡¯t trust.
It was something far more dangerous.
For years, Michaelli had mastered the art of control¡ªover his enemies, his court, his fate. Yet now, as he watched Tuk move ahead, unshaken despite the enemies she had made, he felt the first crack in his carefully built armor.
This game had been his to play. His to win.
And yet, for the first time, he wondered¡ªwas he still the one holding the strings? Or had he unknowingly set himself on a path where he was no longer in control?
Chapter 51: The Weight Behind the Curtain
The heavy doors of the Grand Court groaned shut behind her, their final clang reverberating through the long stone corridor like a judge¡¯s gavel sealing her fate. The echoes of nobles¡¯ whispers and the Emperor¡¯s laughter dissolved into silence, leaving behind only the distant crackling of torches and the rhythmic pound of her own heartbeat.
Nixon and the others went to the prince, discussing things that were now inaudible to her ears. Tuk politely dismissed herself and waved goodbye to the prince while he remained surrounded by people. The air was thick with the scent of melting wax and old parchment, cloying and heavy, pressing down on her lungs. Shadows from the flickering flames wavered against the cold stone, stretching long and distorted, like reaching hands grasping for something just out of reach. Tuk¡¯s boots barely made a sound against the polished floor, but to her own ears, each step rang out like the toll of a bell, an accusation of the impossible thing she had just done.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She forced herself forward, spine straight, breath even, every motion deliberate. Hands folded. Face calm. Nothing to betray the way her insides churned like a storm-tossed sea. Not until she passed the grand hall did she allow herself to exhale, her breath shuddering in the cavernous quiet.
The moment she was sure she was alone¡ª
Her knees buckled.
A strangled gasp escaped her lips as she slid down the wall, her legs useless beneath her. The cold stone at her back did little to steady the tremor in her limbs. Her fingers clutched at the front of her tunic, pressing hard against the frantic hammering beneath, as if she could contain the riot inside her chest.
The scroll in her grip felt colder than before, its eerie stillness far more unsettling than when it had pulsed with unbidden power. She turned it over with trembling fingers, her vision swimming as she stared at the intricate etchings, the ancient words burned into its surface.
"What¡ the¡ heck¡ just happened!?" she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips, quivering with disbelief.
Her wide eyes flicked back to the scroll¡ªthe Seventh Scroll of the Arcanographica. The very thing that had upended the Grand Court in an instant. It had reacted.
No, it had answered.
Her hands shook as she gripped it tighter, as if expecting it to leap from her grasp and erupt into another unpredictable spectacle.
"You¡ You weren¡¯t supposed to do that!" she hissed at the scroll, voice raw with the weight of what had transpired. "I was just reading you! Displaying you! I never said¡ª¡®Hey, let¡¯s blast some noble ladies with fire and ice for fun!¡¯"
Heat flooded her face¡ªnot from the lingering embers of the summoned flames, but from sheer, overwhelming shock.
Because the truth was¡ªshe hadn¡¯t known it would react.
She had been bluffing.
Completely.
Her plan was to help the prince in order to gain favor and a strong ally. It was a gamble, but she had tried to study every possible scenario that could happen. Unfortunately, witnessing the scroll burn women alive was not on her list. She had only read what was written, hoping it sounded grand enough to stall the court. She had even prepared an intricate explanation, a cascade of words to convince them of the weight of history and wisdom.
"And then¡ªsomehow¡ªit had worked."
The instant the final word left her lips, the scroll in her grasp shuddered. A deep, resonant hum vibrated through her fingertips, crawling up her arms like an unseen force awakening from slumber.
Light¡ªblinding, searing¡ªburst from the etched symbols like fissures splitting through ancient stone. The Grand Court gasped as arcs of fire coiled into the air, licking at the ceiling with an almost sentient hunger. Frost bled from the other side, crackling as it spread across marble, the air turning brittle with biting cold.
Screams erupted. The noble ladies scrambled backward, skirts dragging across the floor as flames danced too close. One stumbled, her shriek piercing as frost raced up her sleeve, turning fabric brittle. Another flung herself away from a curling tendril of fire that singed the edge of her gown.
Tuk barely breathed.
The fire. The frost. The unseen force that sent them sprawling.
None of it had been her doing.
She was bluffing. She had only been bluffing.
And yet, the scroll...
Her fingers curled into fists against her trembling knees.
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Yet beneath the panic, beneath the disbelief, beneath the wild pounding of her heart¡ª
There was something else. A whisper of exhilaration. A terrifying, untamed hope that burned at the edges of her fear.
...The scroll itself held real power.
Not just knowledge. Not just words. Power.
Was this why they were sealed away? If a single scroll could bend reality, could it also bridge the gap between worlds? Could it send her home¡ªeven without the dragon¡¯s heart?
No. She needed the heart. The scroll itself had mentioned to ''learn the heart.'' If only she knew where that princess was¡
A sharp shiver racked her frame, exhaustion pressing in from all sides¡ªthe weight of pretending to be strong, standing against men twice her rank, facing the Emperor¡¯s cold, assessing gaze, and, most of all, fighting for Michaelli while hiding the truth about herself. Her shoulders sagged, her body feeling impossibly small against the vastness of the palace around her.
"I wanted to be a duke¡¯s daughter," she muttered, voice hoarse, "or at least an ally because of the stories I used to read. But damn, I thought my heart was going to stop when Duke Velmar¡¯s daughter caught on fire. I can¡¯t believe I just made an enemy of a duke!"
A nervous, breathless laugh bubbled up unbidden, spilling past her lips before she could stop it. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her pulse hammering anew.
Then¡ª
A shift. A presence.
The quiet scuff of a boot on stone.
Tuk¡¯s breath stalled in her throat.
Slowly, she turned her head, her pulse roaring in her ears like an oncoming tide.
There, half-shrouded in the dim light, stood Prince Michaelli¡ªarms crossed, golden eyes gleaming with unreadable intent. The torches cast dancing shadows across his sharp features, the shifting darkness around him almost an extension of his presence. And on his lips¡ that infuriatingly smug smirk.
Tuk froze, still sprawled on the ground like a discarded rag doll.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then¡ª
Michaelli¡¯s smirk deepened. His voice, smooth and laced with amusement, broke the silence.
"So¡" he drawled, extending a hand to her. "Not as steady as you looked in the court, are you?"
Heat surged to her face¡ªmortification, indignation, and the overwhelming urge to throw the scroll at his royal head.
"W-Well," she stammered, scrambling to her feet, still wobbly as she took his hand. "Even warriors¡¯ knees shake after battle. It¡¯s normal!"
His grip was firm¡ªsteady¡ªthe pad of his thumb brushing against her skin in a slow, idle motion. A fleeting touch. A ghost of warmth.
If she had been paying attention, she might have noticed the way his fingers lingered for just a moment too long. But her mind was too busy scrambling for a retort.
"Warriors usually know their weapons," he said dryly, nodding toward the scroll still clenched in her hand. "You looked just as surprised as everyone else."
Her grip tightened around his fingers.
He noticed.
"I¡ª" she started, then caught herself, her pride bristling. Her lips pressed together.
Then she lifted her chin.
"Even the greatest warriors are sometimes surprised by their weapons," she countered, narrowing her eyes. "That doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t know how to use it."
For a moment, something flickered across his expression¡ªwas that curiosity? No¡ something else. Something unsettlingly close to respect.
"I believe you," he said simply. "You¡¯ve already won one battle for me today."
Then, his gaze dropped to their still-clasped hands. A teasing lilt entered his voice.
"How long do you plan on holding my hand?"
Tuk¡¯s eyes widened. She immediately let go, realizing too late that she had been gripping him the whole time.
The prince chuckled, stepping closer, closing the space between them.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"I¡¯ll take this now," he murmured, effortlessly plucking the scroll from her other hand.
"You might accidentally release that dinosaur you once called Barney." His tone was all mockery and mischief. "That would be a disaster."
Tuk¡¯s face burned.
With a swirl of his cloak, he turned and strode away, his footsteps echoing into the distance.
The moment he disappeared, Tuk sagged against the wall, exhaling sharply.
She slapped a hand to her cheek.
¡®I swear,¡¯ she muttered, barely above a whisper, ¡®that man is going to kill me¡ªif the scrolls don¡¯t do it first.''
Chapter 52: Protection
Tuk paced the length of her chamber, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She wasn¡¯t panicking¡ªno, she refused to call it that¡ªbut her thoughts twisted into a tangled mess of worst-case scenarios. She¡¯d been through some tight spots before, but this? This was beyond anything she had prepared for.
The scroll had reacted to her. In front of Michaelli. In front of everyone. And now, her only means of defense was clutched in the prince¡¯s hands, a prize he was no doubt already devising ways to use against her.
She stopped mid-step, running a hand down her face. This wasn¡¯t in the plan.
The nobles were going to be out for blood. Duke Velmar¡¯s daughter had been scorched by the very magic embedded in the scroll, an accident that the court would never let slide. Even if it was a minor injury, a noble was still a noble, and the Velmar family would be relentless. Tuk had no doubt that someone would move against her soon¡ªwhether it was a political maneuver to discredit her or something more... permanent. This was why she didn¡¯t want to be an enemy of a duke. Now, she had somehow become a villain in their minds.
She needed a way out. She needed control.
Her gaze flicked toward the door. Leon.
For a fleeting moment, she thought about reaching out to him. He would help her. He always did. But she knew the truth¡ªMichaelli would have anticipated that. The prince had a way of getting ahead of her every move, turning her instincts against her before she even had a chance to act. If she tried to rely on Leon now, he would only be dragging her into the crossfire.
She exhaled sharply and shook her head. No. She couldn¡¯t afford to be sentimental. She was on her own.
And yet, even as she plotted her escape, another thought clawed its way into her mind. What if she could control it? The power she had felt coursing through the scroll¡ªit had responded to her. That had to mean something. If she could wield it, maybe she wouldn¡¯t need to run. Maybe, for the first time since she¡¯d been thrust into this world, she could have real leverage.
The idea sent a shiver down her spine. She hated how much she liked it.
But she wasn¡¯t the only one who had noticed. Michaelli had seen her reaction. And if there was one thing she knew about the prince, it was that he never let things go.
The summons came quicker than she expected the next day.
Tuk barely had time to compose herself before she was escorted into the prince¡¯s study. The room was dim, illuminated by the glow of oil lamps, casting flickering shadows along the bookshelves. And there, sitting behind his desk, was Michaelli, idly turning the scroll over in his hands.
His golden-brown eyes flicked up to her as the door shut behind her. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. ¡°You¡¯ve been pacing.¡±
Tuk stiffened. ¡°I have not.¡±
"I see you''ve grown accustomed to lying," He leaned back in his chair, lifting the scroll. "This little incident has caused quite a stir."
Tuk bit the inside of her cheek. ¡°About the scroll, I can explain.¡±
¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure you can. But the real question is¡ªdo you even understand what happened?¡± He tapped the scroll against his fingers, his gaze sharp. ¡°Tell me, Tuk. How did you make it react?¡±
Her pulse jumped, but she forced herself to remain still. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡±
Michaelli hummed, unconvinced. He set the scroll down on the desk and slid it toward her. ¡°Then do it again.¡±
Tuk¡¯s mouth went dry. Shit.
He was testing her. Again. Toying with her like a cat deciding whether to finish off a twitching bird or let it flop around for entertainment.
If she reached for the scroll and nothing happened, he¡¯d know she had no control. If it reacted again¡ªif she could make it respond at will¡ªshe would have to face the implications.
Power. Or escape.
It felt disturbingly like d¨¦j¨¤ vu, a cruel rerun of the first day he had dangled the scroll in front of her. But this time, she wasn¡¯t some wide-eyed fool.
Tuk exhaled slowly, flexing her fingers before hovering them just above the parchment. The air crackled with anticipation¡ªstatic, humming, as if the scroll itself had leaned in for a better look.
A beat. Then another.
Nothing.
No flicker of energy, no mysterious hum, no conveniently dramatic glow. The scroll lay there like an unimpressed spectator at a bad magic show.
Michaelli¡¯s face remained impassive, but she noticed the faint twitch of his fingers against the desk¡ªlike a man watching dice roll toward an uncertain outcome. ¡°Curious,¡± he murmured. ¡°It seems to like you, but not on command.¡±
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Tuk yanked her hand back as if the scroll had personally insulted her. ¡°Maybe It¡¯s just a coincidence.¡±
His lips quirked, amusement flashing in those unnervingly gold eyes. ¡°Is it?¡±
He let the question linger, stretching the silence between them like a drawn bowstring.
Then, just as she opened her mouth to protest, he leaned in. Close. His voice dipping into something softer, something almost... conspiratorial.
¡°I''ll believe you, then.¡±
Tuk¡¯s breath caught in her throat. A completely irrational, traitorous response. But before she could pull herself together, Michaelli was already watching her, gaze flickering with something unreadable.
"The nobles want your head," he said conversationally ¡°Duke Velmar¡¯s daughter is said to have suffered burns and fallen unconscious. If she wakes up, she might spin a tale of what happened. If she doesn¡¯t¡ well. The court will be looking for someone to blame.¡±
Tuk swallowed but held his gaze. ¡°You gave me protection.¡±
¡°I did,¡± he agreed smoothly. ¡°And you still have it.¡± He leaned forward, fingers drumming lightly against the scroll. ¡°But that won¡¯t stop them from trying to make you untouchable in name only.¡±
A chill ran down her spine. She had expected retaliation, but hearing it confirmed by Michaelli himself made it feel far more real.
He continued, tone as casual as ever. ¡°They won¡¯t come at you with daggers in the dark. That would be sloppy. No, they¡¯ll do worse.¡± Amusement flickered at the corners of his mouth. ¡°They¡¯ll isolate you, ruin your credibility, whisper about you in corners until even my protection feels like a gilded cage.¡±
Tuk exhaled slowly. So that was the game.
He wasn¡¯t telling her to run. He wasn¡¯t even warning her about death. He was letting her know exactly how they would come for her¡ªand watching to see what she would do about it.
She could imagine his lips quirking in satisfaction, savoring her predicament. ¡°You sound almost eager to see it happen, Your Highness.¡±
¡°Oh, I am,¡± Michaelli admitted. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re as clever as you claim to be.¡±
She hated him. Hated how effortlessly he cornered her. How his every word was a test she couldn¡¯t refuse.
She shouldn¡¯t have helped him. What an ungrateful brat.
But worst of all, she hated that he was right.
That night, Tuk didn¡¯t sleep. She sat at her desk, staring at the flickering candle, the weight of the scroll¡¯s power still tingling in her fingertips.
She could picture Michaelli¡¯s smirk, relishing her unease.
Her eyes flicked to the closed door, half-expecting an assassin¡¯s blade to slip through the crack at any moment. The nobles wouldn¡¯t wait forever. If she wanted to live, she had to be vigilant.
I can¡¯t trust my safety to him alone. I have to act. Use whatever I can.
Tuk took a slow breath.
She had made her choice.
[[ Special Ending ]]
"You called, Your Highness?"
Shadral emerged from the dim recesses of the chamber, his presence as weightless as the night air. He was known only as The Veil¡ªa man whose name was a myth, whose face was concealed beneath a mask of polished obsidian. Though sightless, he never lacked vision.
Michaelli didn¡¯t glance up. He continued tapping a slow rhythm against the armrest of his chair, his golden-brown gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight.
"What¡¯s the status of the high nobles?"
"Duke Velmar and Faustus are seething, but they remain bound by the emperor¡¯s decree," Shadral reported, his voice void of emotion. "They¡¯ve shifted their focus to the royal advisor. Something is in motion¡ªI¡¯ll uncover it soon."
Michaelli exhaled through his nose, unsurprised.
The nobles were predictable. Rats scurrying in the dark, gnawing at anything they couldn¡¯t control.
"It seems I¡¯ll need to move her out of sight for a few days," he murmured. "Keep watch over the nobles. The trial will send ripples through the court¡ªsome expected, others less so. If anything threatens to disrupt our plans, deal with it. Quietly."
Shadral dipped his head, the barest movement of acknowledgment.
"But leave the high nobles untouched¡ªfor now," Michaelli added, a slow, menacing grin curving his lips. "What fun would it be if they didn¡¯t attend the finale?"
The candlelight wavered, throwing fractured shadows across the stone walls. The wind pressed against the shutters, making them creak ever so slightly.
Shadral nodded and turned to leave.
"One more thing."
He halted.
Michaelli¡¯s smirk faded, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he simply watched the commander, his fingers tracing the carved edge of his desk. Then, his voice dropped just above a whisper.
"Have someone watch her. Make sure no one touches her."
Silence.
A hesitation so brief it might have been imagined.
Then, a quiet nod. "Understood."
With the faintest shift of air, Shadral disappeared, swallowed once more by the darkness.
Left alone, Michaelli leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
Now, he was certain¡ªTuk belonged to no one. She truly knew nothing of the scroll, and yet, she had made it react. Something no one else had ever done.
This proved the scrolls still held secrets¡ªsecrets only she had begun to unearth.
She was bold¡ªbold enough to challenge the court, to shield him in plain sight. And that¡ pleased him more than it should have.
A fleeting smile ghosted across his lips. His fingers brushed against them before he even noticed. And when he did¡ªhis expression darkened.
A nuisance. That¡¯s all this was. A political maneuver. A necessary safeguard to ensure the agreement remained intact. That¡¯s why he had to move her¡ªjust for a while.
His fingers curled against the armrest, but something in his chest twisted¡ªquick, unwelcome.
Outside, the crows stirred, their cries low and haunting against the night.
Chapter 53: A Wonderful News
[[A few days later]]
(Leon''s POV)
Leon entered the dimly lit chamber, the scent of parchment and burning candle wax thick in the air. He bowed slightly, the faint rustle of his coat breaking the silence. ¡°Your Highness.¡±
The prince, seated behind his grand mahogany desk, didn¡¯t glance up. The soft scratch of his quill against parchment continued, steady and deliberate. He had expected Leon¡¯s arrival the moment the historian¡¯s boots crossed the threshold.
¡°Report.¡± His voice, cool and commanding, cut through the stillness like a blade.
Leon took a measured step forward. ¡°As per your orders, I¡¯ve observed every historian¡ªtheir actions, their interactions¡ªbut nothing suspicious has surfaced among those present during the war.¡± He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. ¡°It¡¯s possible we¡¯re being misled about the true perpetrator.¡±
The prince finally set his quill down, fingers steepling as his gaze lifted, sharp as a hawk¡¯s. ¡°And what do you think of Tuk?¡±
A beat of silence. Leon¡¯s throat felt dry. ¡°Historian Tuk has been actively translating the scrolls and reporting his observations to me, as instructed, but...¡±
The prince leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly. His piercing eyes gleamed with something between amusement and calculation. ¡°If you¡¯re suspicious of Tuk, why inform him about a spy within the historians?¡± His voice was light, almost playful, but the undertone was razor-sharp. ¡°If he¡¯s truly behind Pierce, wouldn¡¯t it be easier for him to manipulate how we perceive his actions?¡±
Leon¡¯s shoulders tensed. He had no response. His silence stretched, thickening the air between them.
The prince exhaled a slow, measured breath, his lips curling into a smirk. ¡°Trust, Leon,¡± he mused, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest, ¡°is a blade I lend freely¡ªnot to shield, but to strike when they least expect it.¡±
Leon¡¯s jaw tightened. There it was¡ªthat unpredictable, ruthless side of the prince, the one that made it impossible to tell whether he was toying with his prey or setting them free.
¡°By the way,¡± the prince mused, flipping through a document, ¡°do the people of Ellis have a habit of cross-dressing?¡±
Leon blinked, caught off guard. ¡°I... I¡¯m not sure what you mean, Your Highness.¡±
The prince¡¯s gaze sharpened, a mischievous glint in his eye. ¡°You weren¡¯t exactly caught when you disguised yourself as one of the late concubine¡¯s maids, were you?¡±
Leon¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, the memory still fresh in his mind. Forcing a smile, he replied darkly, ¡°Did I do something wrong, Your Highness?¡± It was a polite yet firm request for the prince to drop the subject.
The prince studied him for a moment before lazily shifting the conversation again. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to visit the princess¡¯s tomb? Why are you still here?¡±
Leon exhaled softly, his faint smile returning, this time genuine. ¡°Yes, I will, Your Highness. I¡¯ll leave before noon tomorrow. I wanted to finish a few tasks before returning to Elthor. Thank you for your concern.¡±
The prince glanced at him. ¡°Hmm¡ Why not take the Royal Scholar with you?¡±
Leon tilted his head. ¡°The Royal Scholar?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve decided to change Tuk¡¯s title as an advisor,¡± the prince said, resting his chin on his hand. ¡°Didn¡¯t she say she¡¯s from Ellis? This might be a good chance for her to return to her homeland.¡±
Realization dawned on Leon, and he nodded. ¡°Oh¡ Well, if you allow it, Your Highness, I¡¯ll take him along with me. I¡¯ll inform him right away. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be happy to visit.¡±
The prince¡¯s smirk deepened. ¡°Will she?¡±
Leon frowned at the prince¡¯s word choice but chose not to comment. Yet his thoughts lingered.
From what had been gathered, there were no records of an orphan named Tuk in Ellis. Leon, once a leader of the kingdom, her had no recollection of his existence. Was he an undocumented outsider who slipped into Ellis illegally? Yet, the prince clearly thought differently.
The prince leaned back, his tone reflective. ¡°It might be fun to visit Elthor again after all these years, but I have more important matters to handle. When you¡¯re there, visit the twins for me. I want a report on their progress. By now, at least one or two should be capable of handling a position.¡±
Leon¡¯s chest tightened. He understood the prince¡¯s ambitions all too well. While he admired his leadership, the idea of his ultimate goal left him disheartened. Still, it wasn¡¯t his place to interfere.
¡°I¡¯ll check on them thoroughly, Your Highness,¡± Leon promised solemnly.
¡°Good. You may go.¡± The prince waved a dismissive hand.
Leon turned to leave, but before he reached the door, the prince called out once more.
¡°Oh, and Leon.¡± His voice was laced with amusement. ¡°When Tuk gives you a tour of her homeland, make sure I hear about it. I¡¯m very interested in the place she grew up.¡±
Leon caught the small object the prince tossed his way, bowing once more. ¡°As you wish, Your Highness.¡±
As he walked out of the office, an unsettling thought gnawed at him. What has Tuk done this time to make His Highness so curious?
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[[ A few hours later ]]
(Tuk''s POV)
Tuk stood before the Arcanographica, her pulse quickening as her eyes traced the ancient symbols.
"I never really tried to take this scroll out before," she murmured, her breath shallow. "But now that I know it contains real power¡ I should at least test if I can."
She darted a glance around the dimly lit chamber¡ªempty. Good.
With careful hands, she pressed against the glass encasing the scroll. Nothing. Not even a shift. She tried again, pushing harder, gritting her teeth as she dug her fingers against the edge. It was like trying to move a mountain.
¡°What kind of glass is this?¡± she muttered, rapping her knuckles against it. The surface barely gave a dull thud. It wasn¡¯t ordinary glass. It felt¡ªdenser. No cracks, no weaknesses. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me this is diamond?¡±
Her frustration mounting, she placed both hands on either side of the case and shoved, leveraging her weight against it.
Nothing.
Tuk let out a sharp breath, sweat beading at her temple.
"This is impossible¡"
She stepped back, hands on her hips, eyes scanning the chamber. The prince had to be able to open it somehow. A hidden mechanism? A command only he could give? Whatever the case, she wasn¡¯t getting inside today.
Her heart pounded, a mix of determination and unease coiling within her. She needed another opportunity.
Before she could think further, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Tuk spun just as the heavy door swung open, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
¡°There you are.¡±
Leon¡¯s voice was casual, but Tuk¡¯s body stiffened instinctively. His presence felt like an iron weight pressing against her spine.
¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you,¡± he continued, stepping inside. His gaze flickered from her to the glass case. The pause was brief, but it sent a shiver down her back. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±
Quickly wiping her damp palms against her clothes, she forced a casual chuckle. ¡°Just¡ comparing the original scroll to the copies we have. Making sure nothing''s lost in translation.¡±
Leon¡¯s expression remained unreadable, his silence stretching just a second too long. ¡°The contents are the same, I assure you.¡±
His gaze lingered on her¡ªassessing, questioning. Tuk could feel it like a blade against her skin. Then he moved on.
¡°By the way, the prince ordered that I take you with me.¡±
Tuk blinked. ¡°Take me where?¡±
Leon raised a brow, crossing his arms. ¡°Ellis. His Highness has allowed you to travel with me. Isn¡¯t that your homeland? You should be thrilled to visit it again.¡±
Ellis. Homeland. The words sent a cold shock through her veins.
The name had simply slipped out during a casual conversation¡ªan impulsive lie, something she thought would make her sound like just another commoner, like Rowena and Lea.
And now it was coming back to strangle her.
Leon watched her reaction closely, but Tuk forced a bright smile onto her face. ¡°That¡¯s¡ wonderful news!¡± she said, clasping her hands together in mock excitement. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to go back.¡±
Leon¡¯s eyes flickered with something unreadable, his arms still crossed. ¡°We leave by noon tomorrow. Be ready.¡±
¡°Of course! I¡¯ll be ready.¡± Her voice was too cheerful, the edges of her words fraying.
Leon hesitated, then added, ¡°The prince is very interested in Ellis. He¡¯s asked me to take note of anything peculiar. I¡¯ll be relying on you to guide me.¡±
Tuk¡¯s forced grin felt like it was going to snap off her face.
¡°Naturally!¡± she chirped. ¡°I¡¯m an expert, after all.¡±
Leon gave her one last lingering look before turning and leaving the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Tuk collapsed onto the cold floor.
¡°Why, Tuk, why?¡± she groaned, pressing her hands over her face, her fingers trembling against her skin.
Why couldn¡¯t she have just picked a normal, boring place?
Now she had to go to a kingdom she had never stepped foot in and act like she belonged there.
She rolled onto her side, curling into herself, her heart slamming against her ribs. Ellis wasn¡¯t just some ordinary kingdom. It was one of the most enigmatic places in the realm. Isolated, steeped in ancient traditions, its people were notoriously private. Outsiders were rarely welcomed.
If she slipped even once, they¡¯d know she was lying.
For a fleeting second, she considered finding Lea and Rowena, but then she shook her head. They¡¯re in the emperor¡¯s palace now. Going there without reason would just raise suspicion.
She clenched her jaw. It was too late to change her story.
So what now?
There was no way to back out.
She sat up, inhaling deeply. The air in the chamber felt stifling now. ¡°I¡¯ll just¡ fake it,¡± she whispered, trying to convince herself. ¡°How hard can it be?¡±
She had been lying for so long. To nobles, to historians, to the prince himself.
At this rate, she deserved a damn medal for deception.
But as she rose to her feet, her knees felt weak. The weight of it all settled on her shoulders like an iron cloak.
The thought didn¡¯t fill her with confidence.
It made her feel like a fraud walking a tightrope¡ªone misstep away from plunging into the abyss.
And this time, there¡¯d be no safety net.