Irelle sat quietly in her room—small, warm, decorated with soft lavender curtains. She clutched the edge of her dress with trembling hands, trying to steady her always-shaky breath.
The door opened with a cheerful creak.
Duke Cranis stepped in with his usual bounce, smiling brightly.
"Hellooo, Irelle. Is the room according to your tastes?"
Irelle looked up, startled, immediately rising to her feet.
"Ah—yes… Duke. It's great. Thank you."
"Oh? That's nice, Irelle." Cranis hopped into the room and sat himself down as though he owned the air itself. "Irelle, you know, I wanted to introduce you to someone."
"Oh?" She tilted her head, fingers twisting nervously. "Wh–who is it?"
Irelle was extremely shy—even speaking to ordinary people left her stuttering. Speaking to a duke was ten times worse.
"Oh, it's just someone."
Cranis clapped his hands.
The door opened.
Irelle's eyes turned toward it.
Something appeared.
Something wrong.
"W-wh-what is that… D-duke?"
Duke Cranis smiled gently, almost affectionately. "It's a little something. You see, I have decided you aren't going… to the Rising Stars. So that thing is going instead of you."
Irelle froze. Then trembled. Then broke.
Her knees buckled as tears streamed down her face.
"W-why…? P-please… I d-don't wanna die…"
She stared at the creature in front of her—some twisted mimicry of her own shape.
"Oh, you won't die… don't worry."
She looked at it, whimpering, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
"P-please… I–I don't wanna di—"
SLICE—
Blood sprayed across Cranis's face.
He exhaled slowly and took out a handkerchief.
"Look… don't do it in front of me, you know? Especially slicing her open… her guts spilled everywhere."
He wiped his face casually and sighed. "I'll have someone clean it, don't worry."
He turned back.
Irelle stood there—completely intact. Except for the blood covering her from head to toe. The long wound across her abdomen slowly stitched itself back together, flesh knitting itself.
She smiled.
"Oh, don't be so pesky. What's a little blood going to do to you?"
Cranis grinned. "So, what should I call you? Should I call you—"
"Wife."
She pressed a blood-covered finger to his lips.
"I'm still your wife, you know. But call me Irelle for the time being. It'll be weird if you're doting on a Rising Star candidate."
"Ah yes, yes." Cranis nodded. "Go take a bath. Your body is covered in blood."
He glanced at her still-fading wound. "It's a clean cut from head to bottom. How do you plan on making it normal?"
"Like always," she smiled sweetly. "It'll take a few hours. Honey, can you remove those organs I took out? I don't need them."
"Alright, I'll have it cleaned up." He said looking at the pile of unrecognisable mess on the sofa.
He kissed her forehead. "Tomorrow, right?"
"Tomorrow."
She leaned in, smiling softly. "If it's successful, let's have something special tomorrow night."
Cranis hugged her tightly.
"So what's the plan again?"
She whispered, smiling against his ear.
"Just keep denying, babe. Just keep denying."
—
All the candidates stood together—each wearing a white veil covering their face, glowing against the sunlight which fell on them due to a huge hole in the wall.
Alfeus wiped blood from his nose, smirking weakly.
"Hey, that's rude, you know…"
His barrier shimmered faintly around them like cracked glass.
He had managed to save everyone—but his small frame trembled from the effort.
Tavion stood with his shoulders slouched, still looking exhausted.
"What the hell are you doing?"
He and Morgan weren't in the barrier that Alfeus had made, yet he seemed fine, standing in front of Morgan.
Morgan stood there, looking at Tavion as he thought, 'I saw it for a split second… His hand moved in front of the explosion… Did he redirect it toward the wall? Or did he straight-up block it?'
The chamber was filled with smoke and shattered stone. Furniture lay overturned, banners ripped, food strewn across the floor.
Every candidate stared at Irelle—whose veil was starting to burn at the edges.
A vein on Irelle's forehead popped.
"For mere candidates, you sure are thinking too highly of yourselves."
Tavion sighed.
"No one is getting too high of themselves. I was lucky with that block. And if it wasn't for that kid risking his life, we'd have died. You're… too strong."
Irelle's eyes widened—then curved into a smirk.
"Oh? So you know how weak you are in front of me? Good. Because I'm going to kill you now."
STAB—
An arrow pierced through Irelle's torso.
She looked down in disbelief.
Giroyo stood behind her, white veil fluttering, holding the arrow tightly.
"I get it. You're pretty."
His usual flirtatious grin was gone—replaced with a calm, hunter's focus.
"But… you're too rough. A kid is in danger, you know?"
Serin knelt beside the unconscious Alfeus.
Soft pink bubbles formed around her fingers—splitting into thirty tiny glowing spheres.
She pressed them gently onto Alfeus's face.
They sank into his skin.
His breathing steadied.
Tavion looked up at Irelle.
"Tch… I just praised you a little and it got over your head? Really immature."
Her eyes flashed with fury.
"I'LL CRUSH YOU—!"
She raised her hand to cast another spell—
THUD
Her hand fell to the floor.
Morgan stood behind her, sword still dripping blackened ichor.
She hadn't even sensed him move.
Irelle's rage twisted into panic.
'Too fast...No, They are stronger than I thought'
She looked toward the open hallway—guards' footsteps thundering closer.
She couldn't beat them. Not like this.
"What… what is that?" Serin whispered.
Irelle's severed hand was wriggling.
Not bleeding.
Wriggling.
Some parasitic, fleshy thing pulsated inside the severed limb.
Irelle snatched the hand with her remaining arm.
Morgan moved to decapitate her—
She dropped a bead of light at her feet.
The ground pulled her down faster than morgan.
And she slipped through, dodging his blade by inches.
Another bead.
A blast of force.
She shot toward the hole in the wall created by the explosion.
She propelled herself outward—white veil tearing in the wind.
"She escaped," Serin whispered, staring at the streak of light shooting across the sky.
Outside, the crowd gasped as something flew out of the castle ruins like a white ghost.
Morgan tightened his grip.
"Dammit… she got away…"
Serin stepped forward.
"Hold on, I can catch up—"
Tavion stopped her with a hand.
"No need… I said that earlier just to break her focus. If you chase, she'll kill you."
"Well then…"
A rough, confident voice echoed.
Giroyo stepped forward—massive bow held in his hands as he held it.
He grabbed the arrow he had pulled from Irelle and notched it.
"To hunt a fleeing creature," he said, bracing the bow against the floor, muscles bulging as he pulled.
"Is the hunter's greatest joy."
The chamber fell silent except for the creaking of the bowstring—metal-like, strained to its limit.
"And since it's fleeing…"
His veil fluttered as he smirked.
"It only means one thing."
He raised the bow.
"TO HUNT."
SWOOOSSHHHH—
A deafening crack tore through the air.
The instant Giroyo released the bowstring, a violent gust of wind exploded outward, shaking the shattered hall. Loose tiles rattled, curtains snapped like whips, and dust blasted upwards. The arrow detonated forward, splitting the air with a sound like thunder.
It streaked across the sky, leaving a thin white arc behind it.
Irelle was already far, propelled by bead after bead—each one bursting beneath her feet in flashes of light. Her white veil fluttered wildly, half-blood-soaked, her breaths sharp and uneven.
'The plan failed… I didn't expect this. No… I'll get them soon… But not today. I'll have to tell this to boss…'
Her eyes narrowed, trembling with hate.
"I'LL DEFINITELY KILL EACH OF THEM NEXT TIME… I WON'T FAIL BOS—"
A sound came.
A horrible, sharp, slicing shriek.
She glanced back as her eyes widened.
The arrow was no longer behind her.
It was past her.
KRRRRK—THWOOOM—
"KUGH—!"
It punched through her entire torso—no resistance, no slowdown. A hole blasted through her body, large enough to see through what's on the other side. Her veil tore off completely, flung into the wind as her body jerked back from the impact.
She tried desperately to stabilize herself—black ichor spraying behind her in trails as she summoned more beads, using them to hurl her own blood forward to regain momentum.
"DAMMITTT—!"
She looked back again.
Far away on the broken balcony, Giroyo stood—bow still trembling from the recoil, veil fluttering, a confident smirk on his face.
Irelle gritted her teeth, fury overtaking her pain.
"I'LL KILL THEM—!"
She forced herself forward, beads bursting violently beneath her feet. Her flight was uneven now, body convulsing from the massive wound, but she couldn't stop. Not with her plan ruined.
Her plan failed.
—
A couple of hours later, the crowd had finally calmed. The guards had diffused the uproar by claiming the candidates were simply fighting amongst themselves and that all of them were safe. Murmurs eventually faded, though suspicion still lingered.
Inside the castle, tension hung over the meeting hall. The emperor had personally questioned each candidate and now stood before Duke Carnis. Carnis looked completely defeated—shoulders slumped, cheeks wet, eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't know… What was that…?" Carnis whispered, trembling. "I picked up Irelle because she seemed powerful. I didn't know she would attack them…"
The emperor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and smiled softly.
"I trust you, Carnis. Someone like you could never try that. Your trust was broken. I'm sure you feel heartbroken."
He pulled Carnis into a comforting embrace as the young duke finally broke down, crying softly and repeatedly apologising.
The candidates were escorted to different rooms to rest properly. The meeting resumed, though the atmosphere carried a dark cloud.
The emperor's expression turned stern as he addressed the hall.
"This was an attack directly on the candidates. Make sure they are caught," he ordered sharply to the guards and his secretary.
Duke Dansal stood up.
"Your Highness, I would suggest that each dukedom also looks into this with their own forces. I do not blame Duke Carnis here—he is still young and could not have known better."
Instiden scoffed loudly.
"Like I said, he is immature. He doesn't even look into the people he is bringing as candidates—"
Theresea cut in immediately, chuckling.
"Oh, Instiden, you are one to talk? You couldn't even look into your mistresses—whether they were cheating on you or not. Instead, you had them killed with their lovers."
Instiden's eyes flared wide.
"YOU—"
"SILENCE."
The emperor's voice thundered across the room.
Everyone froze.
"I understand this is a big issue," he continued. "But this happened in the castle, and I will have my people look into it. The culprit will be caught. Let us move on with the meeting."
A breath of uneasy relief settled over the table.
"The Rosevelt Dukedom…" the emperor said. "I heard some news of it."
Everyone immediately refocused.
"The son, the heir of the dukedom, has been found in the swamps. I met him a couple of days ago. He seems fine… but being away for so long, he has forgotten his roots. The Rosevelt family appointed him the head instantly, currently, however he is learning the responsibilities of a head."
"The Rosevelt family? After all these years?" Afuner sounded baffled. "I see… But are we sure it's him, Your Highness? Not that I doubt you, but the fire… back then—"
"Yes, Duke Afuner," the emperor replied. "It is Thompson Rosevelt. I have met him. He is cheerful and speaks highly of an individual." The emperor smiled faintly. "He reminds me of his father."
Theresea leaned forward.
"Your Highness, this individual Thompson spoke of… Who is it? I ask only because we should have him looked into. He may have been the one to hide young Rosevelt all these years."
The dukes turned their attention to the emperor, curious. He scratched his head.
"What was it again?" He glanced at his secretary. "What was Thompson saying? I can't remember… I'm aging now."
The secretary nodded.
"If you wish, I can do exactly what he was doing, Your Highness."
The emperor blinked in amusement.
"Wait—you can even act like him?"
"It is insolent before you, but yes, I can. I memorised everything about him."
The emperor laughed, Excited.
"Please, please do it. Show them."
The dukes all turned to the secretary, whose face was completely stiff. He inhaled, then suddenly shifted into a flamboyant pose—one hand on his hip, the other on his chest.
"What is it, dude?? The name is Tommehhh—with the Y."
Everyone stared at him, baffled.
The secretary continued dramatically, pacing like a performer.
"Gotta say, mama raised me to protect the swamp… but I heard y'all wanna make me rule over the swamps. My home, eh?"
The emperor burst into laughter, nearly wiping tears from his eyes as the dukes exchanged stunned looks.
The secretary spun, placing a hand on his cheek.
"Y'all know me? I am the coolest witch since my mama raised me like that."
"But do y'all know who i am?" The secretary turned to the Dukes.
Instiden looked exhausted. Castorik squinted.
"A witch? You said it?"
The secretary clutched his heart theatrically.
"ARGH, how come you knew it? My buddy Dilek the Saint didn't!"
"…Wait—" Castorik muttered.
The secretary continued, still posing.
"Dilek was arguing with me, but he is a saint and I'm a witch, so it's simpler. We be what we wantttt toooo—"
"WAIT—!"
The secretary froze mid-pose. Even the laughing emperor turned toward Castorik. The room fell silent, all eyes on him.
Castorik stared at the secretary, his voice low,
"He said… Dilek?"
"Yes," the secretary answered, confused.
"He called… Dilek a saint?" Castorik asked again, slower this time.
The secretary nodded.
The emperor turned to castorik.
"Are you alright, Castorik?"
Castorik sank into his chair, face pale, breath heavy.
'Dilek… is the saint?'
His thoughts ran wildly.
'He called himself just a guy joining it… He said some man named Jonah was the saint… but I never found anyone named Jonah. Just a guy pretending to be him. Jonah didn't exist. He never did… That means Dilek lied. There is no one called Jonah who is the saint… The real saint is—'
Dilek.