“No, I can’t let this happen! If I let him live, he’ll expose my secret!”The nobles didn’t understand what was happening to their minds when a powerful, inexplicable fear suddenly gripped them. A fear that if the Nine Dragons revealed their secrets, their lives would end right then and there.Anyone might say it’s normal to feel afraid. But they’d only say that because they’d never experienced the strange, overwhelming dread that now invaded the nobles’ thoughts. A fear so intense, it drove them to irrational—almost primal—actions that defied logic.“Godfrey, you’re a real threat!”A bald baron suddenly sprang from his seat, his face flushed red with fury. He jabbed his finger toward the earl’s face, voice raised in accusation.It was utterly shocking to witness a lower-ranked noble yelling at an earl like that—especially without even using an honorific like Lord or Earl.Under normal circumstances, everyone present would have been stunned by such audacity.But what happened next tur

"Oh my God! This is an absolute mess!"As the nobles below the stage rushed forward to confront Godfrey, the earls and countesses seated on the platform grew visibly uneasy.On one hand, they were reluctant to get involved. Intervening would mean compromising their dignity.In the world of nobility, there exists an unspoken rule they take very seriously: Never offer your hand too easily—it's the mark of a servant's mindset.If you're a noble and you're quick to help others—especially those on your same level—it’s not seen as admirable. In fact, it’s often frowned upon.Why? Because from the moment they were born, they’ve been raised to be served. That’s how they view the world: those who serve, and those who are served.So, to act in service of someone else is to shift from the latter role to the former. And because that shift strikes at the very heart of prestige and self-worth, it’s something they’re fiercely unwilling to do.Nobles guard this principle jealously. They won’t lift a

Miralda Vexley might not be the strongest person in Lanshire, but there was no doubt she was among the most gifted.Since the age of eight, she had undergone rigorous training at one of the ancient temples of the Divine Meditation sect—a discipline that emphasized the power of mental focus. But it wasn’t just the strict training that had forged her into who she was; it was her unwavering will and fierce determination.Miralda never allowed herself to think of anything outside of training and study. As a result, it came as no surprise that she had never had friends, close companions, let alone a lover.There were only rivals. Only opponents.And whoever stood against her—whoever dared—she would defeat them. No exceptions. No matter who.That relentless self-discipline and grueling routine might also explain how she achieved a breakthrough just a year ago at the age of thirty-four. Reaching such a milestone before the age of forty was an extraordinary feat—something only a handful of el

“Duchess Vexley, who exactly are you looking for?”The question came from Duke Oswin, seated at her right. Miralda didn’t turn to look at him—she answered immediately, eyes still scanning the crowd.“No one in particular. But I’m certain this person is too dangerous to ignore. This chaos didn’t happen by accident. Someone here is manipulating everyone’s minds.”As she spoke, Miralda’s sharp gaze swept across the sorrowful, dazed faces of the women below. She knew it—one of them had to be responsible.“This person is extremely dangerous. Someone we’ve probably never seen before. They…”Before she could finish, the same question echoed again from her right.“Duchess Vexley, who exactly are you looking for?”She recognized Oswin’s voice. Her search paused as she began to turn toward him—when suddenly…“Duchess Vexley, who exactly are you looking for?”This time, it came from her left—Duke Thalion.Miralda froze. Her brow furrowed deeply. And just as she hesitated, uncertain which way to

Earlier that morning.At Pinewood.“Alright then, I’ll go pack everything I need.”Marc said this as he stepped toward the back room.The wooden cabin he stayed in—one of dozens just like it in the Garden Inn lodging complex—consisted of a large common room and another smaller room separated by wooden walls. The common area served as a place to gather and talk, while the back room offered privacy for rest.Neither room had a bed or chairs. Everyone ate and slept on tatami mats laid across the floor.Elliot, Leonie, Sasha, and the other women at the inn each stayed in different cabins. Marc had his own as well.And because the young man needed to arrive in Walengrad before dusk, he would have to leave by midday—just a few hours from now.But just as Marc was about to step into the resting area, he suddenly heard a voice.“Lord Belmont.”He froze. He knew that voice.“Lady Darla?”Marc’s brows furrowed. He scanned the room, but there was no one there.“Was it just my imagination?” he wo