“Lies.”Theodore pinned Lily completely against the wall, his sturdy, throbbing body pressing her against the cold stone wall of the palace corridor with all his formidable strength. “Your body cannot lie, Princess,” whispered Theodore, his voice low, deep and full of danger. His hot, heavy breath brushed against her ear, making Lily’s hair stand on end and the fine hairs on her neck bristle. “I’ve memorised every inch of your skin over the three years of our engagement. I know exactly where you’re most sensitive—on your neck, on your full breasts that always sway as you walk through the palace, on your slender waist that always makes your skirt feel tight, on the spot between your thighs that’s always wet. I know how to make you wet until you’re dripping, how to make you scream my name whilst crying silently, how to make you chase after me every night until morning. And I know..."His large, rough, warm hand moved down slowly, tracing Lily’s slender hips—still exposed by her skirt

Unbeknownst to both Lily and Theodore, two figures had been observing the entire scene from the upstairs balcony since the very beginning. “Look, Angela. Even when the woman who’d been pursuing him for years humbled herself and tried to win him back, Theodore brushed her aside as easily as flicking dust from the sleeve of his cloak. A man like that… is a rare sight in this empire.” Claude chuckled softly. His laughter was laced with satisfaction as he tapped his fingers against the marble railing, watching the heir to the North stride resolutely away from the veranda. As the Queen’s younger brother, Claude understood all too well the rot eating away at the heart of the palace. The Emperor had grown old; his body was succumbing to physical frailty, yet his suspicion and greed were becoming ever more uncontrollable. The ailing ruler had deliberately bolstered Prime Minister Ford’s faction to maintain the balance of power, whilst turning a blind eye as his illegitimate daughter toyed

“For three whole years he prostrated himself at the door of my pavilion like an obedient dog! Every time he came to the capital, he would always bring chests full of the finest treasures, just to gain my permission to take Lily for a walk in the garden! How could that naive lad suddenly have the nerve to cast my daughter aside in public?!” A senior lady-in-waiting standing near the door plucked up the courage to speak. “Madam, word from the court also suggests that Young Master Gerald had his legs cut off and was castrated last night at the Cordova residence… Prime Minister Ford was even stripped of his office by His Imperial Majesty for being found guilty of poisoning Theodore…” “Silence!” Elena cut in sharply, glaring at the lady-in-waiting with a cruel, narrowed gaze. “I couldn’t care less what happened to Gerald or that good-for-nothing father of his! What matters to me is my honour and that of my daughter! Humiliating Lily in the palace hall is tantamount to slapping me in th

By now, the poison had indeed vanished from his body, and on top of that, the power of a Level 7 Grandmaster was coursing through every vein. Theodore stared straight at Elena. There was no explosive anger on his face, only a silence as cold as a grave that could shatter anyone’s courage. Seeing Theodore standing motionless and silent, the smirk on Elena’s lips—painted with bright red lipstick—grew wider. She assumed her recent threat had succeeded in silencing the young man’s courage, just as it had for the past three years. “Why are you silent?!” snapped Elena, folding her arms across her chest, which was draped in luxurious silk. “I thought you were as brave as a mountain after causing a ruckus in the banquet hall! But as soon as you heard your family’s honour was at stake, your tongue went completely numb, did it?!” Kasim Bannon, standing beside Elena, straightened his back and glared at Theodore with a haughty expression. “Young Master Theodore,” Kasim Bannon interrupted

TAP. TAP. TAP. The steady thud of Theodore’s boots shattered the suffocating silence. Theodore strode forward with absolute composure. His black cloak, adorned with the Northern clan’s signature silver thread embroidery, billowed softly through the air. His gaze remained completely flat, utterly devoid of mercy, like a god of death treading across a killing field. Every step he took upon the fractured marble sounded like a grim countdown to the final breaths of Consort Elena. Elena stumbled backward a step, her balance faltering. Her lips, painted in deep crimson rouge, trembled violently, letting out a choked whimper that was barely audible. "Y-you... monster... s-stay back..." Elena whispered, raising a trembling hand to halt Theodore's advance. "I am His Majesty's favored consort... His Majesty will—" Before Elena could finish speaking... WHOOSH! Theodore’s movement was far too swift for the mortal eye to track. His figure seemed to dissolve into shadows, and in the next frac