Meanwhile, outside the meeting hall, hidden in a quiet corner of the garden…
"The Dragon is onto us. He had one of his Hounds follow me yesterday after our meeting. He's getting close."
An automated voice echoed from the phone in Ariel's hand as she stood in the shadows, just a short distance from the entrance.
"He's getting too close," she growled, before exhaling sharply. "Okay, Ricky—tell the Phantom Spiders to spy on his Dragonflies. I want every movement tracked, every discovery reported. We must be prepared—whether it leads to war or alliance. Whatever it is, we cannot be caught off guard."
"Affirmative, Bailey," Ricky replied. "I'll also assign the Phantom Eagles to intercept his Shadow Demons in the abyss. It seems they're working together on this case, digging for everything they can about us. And I hate to say it… but this won't end pleasantly. We may be heading toward war instead of alliance. The Dragon doesn't tolerate being played for a fool—much less challenged in his own territory. BK just informed me they've taken some of the vendors who were receiving aid from Phantom Rose in for questioning. It's getting ugly, Bailey. Really ugly."
"Son of a bitch," Ariel cursed, exhaling in frustration.
"Did he harm them?" she asked sharply.
"Not yet," Ricky replied. "But he might. Considering how ruthless and impatient he is, if he doesn't get answers soon… he'll do something to them."
"Then we can't wait for him to act. If those vendors are harmed, it will spread fear. People will stop relying on us, forcing themselves to remain trapped in poverty under the cruel rule of the nobility—treated like animals. Bloody monsters…" Ariel heaved, her voice thick with anger and frustration.
A long silence followed before Ricky exhaled on the other end. "What are your orders, Boss? We'll do whatever you say. Should we bust them out?"
Ariel drew a deep breath before replying. "No. No… it's a trap. The Dragon wants to lure us in, to catch us through the vendors. We mustn't let him close in on us at any cost—it would jeopardize my identity."
She paused, exhaling softly. "The vendors don't know anything about us. Only the name of the network helping them—Phantom Rose. We made sure of that. Still, they shouldn't suffer because of our aid, or because someone wants to dominate with his boisterous ego. Aah… I'm certain he won't harm them. At least not yet. But in case he does…"
There was a long pause before Ariel clenched her fist, fiery determination burning in her eyes.
"We. Will. Respond."
Silence stretched across the line until Ricky finally spoke. "Understood, Boss. The defense units—the Phantom Eagles, the Phantom Spiders, the Sparrows, the Phantom Tigers, and the secret, ultimate last line of defense—are all at your command. We await your orders. Even if it means… a fight to the death."
Ariel sighed as Ricky's last words echoed in her mind.
'A fight to the death…'
Her gaze swept across the garden, watching fireflies dance among the flowers in the dark. They flickered like sparks of hope—dreams she had given to the distressed and oppressed people of the kingdom, and even beyond, for the past two years. People who had suffered under the cruelty of their monarchies and the weight of poverty. Victims of human trafficking, exploitation, slavery, forced prostitution, murder, and drug addiction.
The thought of their fragile hopes being crushed by a boisterous, ego‑driven, ruthless, power‑hungry maniac like the Dragon filled her with rage. But what else could she expect? He was one of them—another beast, another monster.
Crown Prince be damned. If he dared to oppress these people or lay a finger on them, she would make him regret it. She would destroy him, alongside the rest of the scum ruling class. She would destroy them all.
Unbeknownst to the world, the Sinclair family commanded one of the largest and most powerful secret defense units ever established.
A force created 130 years ago by her great‑great‑grandfather, Maxwell Richard Sinclair, to guard both the kingdom and his fief. He had forged it in secrecy, together with the monarch of that time—King Denzel Ironheart Devonte, Daniel's great‑great‑grandfather.
It was a secret carried to the grave—only a Sinclair knew of it, and only a Sinclair held the power to command and control it.
Ariel learned of it from her father, who revealed the truth on his deathbed.
For years, she had trained in secret with them, commanding their forces even before her tragic, near‑death experience. That was why, after her supposed resurrection, she returned to them—using their tactics and intelligence to shape her revenge.
Once, in her naivety, she even considered introducing Aaron to them. Her father had told her mother of the force out of love, and Ariel thought to do the same during her marriage. But now she was grateful she hadn't. Had she revealed the secret, the defense force that Grandfather Maxwell and King Denzel had fought to keep hidden—built to protect the kingdom from its enemies—would have been compromised. Her foolishness would have jeopardized everyone, threatening the safety of the entire realm.
It was her duty to maintain the secret—but also to wield it in defense of the kingdom, and of others across the world who needed protection from heartless, ruthless men like the Dragon and the Scorpion King with his minions.
The defense forces had been instructed to protect the people of the kingdom above all else—even if it meant destroying the ruling monarchy itself should it ever oppress them.
And if such an encounter demanded a fight to the death…
Then so be it.
With strong resolve burning in her chest, Ariel responded to Ricky in a firm voice.
"So. Be. It."
Then she cut the call.
A fiery glint blazed in her eyes.
"If it's a fight you want, Crown Prince Daniel Maxwell Devonte… then it's a fight you'll get. But I hope you won't regret it later," she whispered, her gaze lifting to the moon.
She smashed the phone against a rock, shards scattering, before turning and walking back toward the entrance of the meeting hall.
As soon as she left, a figure emerged from the shadows. Silently, he poured a strange liquid over the broken phone, watching as it melted into ash—then vanished once more into the darkness.
**********
Inside the meeting hall…
"Tomorrow, your first challenge is greeting, meeting, and conversing."
Ariel entered the room to find Queen Esmeralda addressing the noble ladies about the first task of the selection.
"It may sound easy and simple… but believe me when I say it is not. In this first stage of testing your noble etiquette, we will closely monitor what you know, what you've learned in your classes, and how you apply that knowledge in the real world. Many of you grew up sheltered from the noble court and do not truly understand how it works. Trust me—what you learned in etiquette lessons will not always elevate you or carry you forward. Soon, you shall discover what I mean. But as for tomorrow, your tasks are to greet, meet, and converse with the other ladies participating in the competition, elder noble court ladies, the Queen Dowager, and of course… myself. And naturally…" she paused, her voice sharp with emphasis, "…the Crown Prince."
At the mention of the Crown Prince, the room erupted in excited murmurs.
"So the mandate of the task is this: before the end of the day, you must have greeted, met, and conversed with one of your opponents, an elder noble lady of the court, the Queen Dowager, the Queen, and the Crown Prince. Bear in mind—every word, every gesture, and even your posture will be monitored and judged. Good luck, ladies. You may now retire to your rooms and rest well. Tomorrow, you are expected here at 7 a.m. sharp for a briefing with the Queen Dowager. Do not be late."
With those words, Esmeralda stepped away from the podium, turned, and bowed to the Queen Dowager, Alicia, who gave a subtle nod before rising from her seat and descending from the dais.
The noble ladies stood at once, forming two neat rows on either side. They curtsied as Alicia, Esmeralda, Elizabeth, and Duchess Catherine walked past.
Alicia paused briefly when she reached Ariel, who curtsied in reverence.
"A word before you retire to your chambers, Lady Ariel," Alicia whispered, without looking at her, before proceeding out of the hall, followed closely by the rest.
Monica caught the words and locked eyes with her mother, who gave a slight nod as she walked away.
As soon as the royal family departed, the noble ladies straightened their postures and began shuffling out of the room one by one.
Lady Catherine Slovak passed with a cluster of noble ladies, her gaze sweeping over Ariel with disdain. "I wonder how a mere pardon, dragging a trail of scandalous filth behind her, expects to converse with the highly esteemed ladies of the noble court tomorrow…" she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt.
"They will probably run away from her because of the stench," mocked a noble lady with straight brown hair, brown eyes, a flat nose, and plump lips. She wore a glittering black‑and‑gold dress and was among Catherine's entourage—the same group that had shunned Ariel at the palace days before.
At her mockery, the other ladies burst into mocking laughter.
"Indeed. It will be quite the scandal as well…" Catherine jeered, her voice dripping with malice.
Ariel rolled her eyes, sighed, and replied coolly, "And it seems the flies love the filth, since they can't seem get enough of it. They hover around, soaking themselves in its stench to their hearts' content. Guess I'm pretty loved after all."
The entire room burst into laughter at Ariel's biting retort, leaving Catherine and her friends embarrassed and humiliated.
Catherine flushed crimson and glared at Ariel. "You… bitc—"
"Ah, careful now, Lady Catherine," Ariel interrupted smoothly. "Remember—be the Flower. You must shine bright no matter what filth surrounds you. Otherwise, you might be mistaken for a weed and uprooted before you know it. And this filth might be the only one left to steal the show."
"You… you!" Catherine fumed, her voice trembling with rage.
"Me what?" Ariel asked coolly. "I think you better leave and go and wash yourself thoroughly because I think..."
She walked closer and sniffed at her. "The stench has attached to you too. You better hurry otherwise you might be mistaken as one of us."
The room erupted into laughter once again, echoing like thunder against Catherine's pride.
"Princess Unice, you'd better hurry as well before the stench clings to you… and becomes oh‑so scandalous," mocked Monica at the woman in the black‑and‑gold glittering dress—the same one who had mocked Ariel earlier.
The laughter grew louder, deepening the humiliation of Catherine and her entourage.
"You! Aaah!" Catherine screamed before bolting out of the room, her minions scurrying after her.
'Serves them right. Bitches', Ariel mused inwardly.
Suddenly, a hand gripped her shoulder. It was Monica.
"Wow… rival‑bestie, you truly are ruthless. I'd better be extra careful with you from now on, or you'll roast me like that arrogant bitch and leave me defeated in seconds," she remarked sarcastically.
Ariel snorted. "They had it coming. Don't worry—I won't roast you just yet." She leaned in, whispering with a sly smile. "Because I'm saving you the best for last. And trust me… it will be unforgettable."
Monica swallowed hard at that pristine smile. It sent chills down her spine—a clear sign that Ariel meant every word she had just spoken. Whatever awaited her, Monica knew it would not be good… at least not for her.
Ariel stepped away and said, "Good night, rival‑bestie. Remember to be the Flower tomorrow, or this filth will drag you down before you even realize it."
She smiled once more before walking out through the door.
Monica swallowed again, her thoughts racing. "That woman is truly dangerous. Mmm… and strangely… I like it. All right then, let's see what you have up your sleeve. I truly want to know."
She smirked before moving to assist the servants in cleaning up the room. After all, she was the host.