The estate of the Seventh Prince was quiet.
Unnaturally quiet.
No idle gossip.
No whispering maids.
No careless footsteps echoing through corridors.
Only discipline.
Only order.
At the center of it all—
Maid Grecia.
She walked the corridors with measured steps, inspecting every room with calm precision. Servants lowered their heads the moment she passed.
No one dared speak unnecessarily.
Not anymore.
When her inspection ended, she returned to her quarters.
Locked the door.
Lit a single oil lamp.
From beneath her bedding, she withdrew a narrow strip of treated bamboo.
Her brush moved swiftly.
Small characters.
Compact.
Efficient.
Precise.
When she finished, she rolled it tightly and gave a soft whistle.
A hawk descended onto the windowsill moments later.
Grecia tied the bamboo strip to its leg.
"Go."
The hawk vanished into the night.
Grecia remained at the window long after it disappeared.
Her lips curved faintly.
"Trash or not…"
"You changed today."
Fifteen minutes later—
The hawk descended into another estate.
This one was far grander.
Heavily guarded.
Silent in a different way.
A cloaked attendant retrieved the message instantly and dismissed the bird without ceremony.
The bamboo strip was delivered within moments.
Inside a private training hall—
Two swords clashed.
Sparks scattered across polished stone.
Qi rippled violently in the air.
A youth with black hair streaked in green pressed forward, movements sharp and controlled. Every strike was economical. Every breath measured.
Opposite him stood a middle-aged Daoist in plain robes.
Their blades locked.
The youth twisted his wrist slightly—
The Daoist's sword flew from his hand.
It embedded into a stone pillar.
Silence.
The youth lowered his blade.
"You've improved, Your Highness," the Daoist said calmly. "After your recent breakthrough, you may already rival the First Prince."
The youth's expression did not change.
"Rival?"
He sheathed his sword.
"I will surpass him."
He turned and walked out.
Praise did not interest him.
Outside the hall—
An attendant was already kneeling.
A bamboo strip rested across his palms.
"Your Highness. A report from the Seventh Prince's estate."
The youth paused.
For the first time—
A flicker of interest surfaced.
"Read."
The attendant swallowed.
"The Seventh Prince has begun forming his own camp."
A slight pause.
"He rejected high-tier treasures and chose low-grade items instead."
The youth remained silent.
The attendant continued.
"He publicly challenged Prince Shanon…"
"And won."
The air changed.
Subtle.
Pressure thickened.
"Won?" the youth asked softly.
"Yes, Your Highness."
The youth took the bamboo strip personally.
Read it once.
Then again.
His eyes slowed at certain lines.
Then—
A faint smile formed.
"Interesting."
"The cripple… is no longer crippled."
The Daoist stepped beside him quietly.
"Should we eliminate him early?"
The youth folded the bamboo strip with deliberate care.
"No."
His voice was steady.
"There is no need. Since he awakened his bloodline, the Crown Prince Selection has begun."
A slight pause.
"I prefer to remain behind the curtain. For now."
He looked toward the distant direction of the Seventh Prince's estate.
"If he has truly changed…"
A breath.
"Let him grow."
The Daoist frowned. "That may create risk."
The youth's gaze sharpened.
"Only weak rulers fear rising talent."
His tone did not rise.
"If he becomes a threat, I will personally cut him down."
He turned toward the night sky.
"And if he doesn't…"
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Then this succession will finally become interesting."
He raised his hand.
"Leave."
Servants and maids scattered instantly.
Within seconds, only two remained in the hall—
The prince.
And his Daoist advisor.
Only then did the prince extend his palm.
Flame ignited silently.
The bamboo strip burned.
But when the outer layer turned to ash—
A second layer revealed itself.
A hidden inscription activated.
The air shimmered.
An image formed.
Maid Grecia appeared, projected in faint spiritual light.
Her voice was low. Controlled.
Submissive.
"…Your Highness, the Second…"
"…This is serious…"
"…The Seventh Prince has begun to suspect me…"
The prince's expression did not change.
"…To ensure my cover remains intact, I sent hawk letters to four other princes…"
"…The Princess No Name is still not residing in the Seventh's estate…"
"…One more thing…"
Her voice lowered further.
"…The Seventh Prince is a black horse."
"…Be very careful dealing with him."
The Daoist's brows tightened.
"…Since the failed assassination under your order, he has changed…"
Alexander's fingers tapped lightly against his sleeve.
"…Here are the updates regarding the Seventh Prince's recent activities…"
"…After his awakening, Princess Silver remained constantly by his side…"
"…The two trained across the city and beyond…"
"…One day climbing Mount Eve. The next, swimming across the Death Lake…"
"…His methods are unlike anything recorded in palace archives…"
The Daoist's breathing slowed.
"…I managed to track them for the first three days…"
"…After that, they would vanish a step beyond the estate gate…"
"…I suspect my identity has been burned…"
A pause.
"…I can no longer monitor him safely…"
"…Sire, I request permission to withdraw…"
Her final words were almost personal.
"…With loyalty, Grecia."
The image shattered.
Silence filled the hall.
At that exact moment—
Four hawks descended across different estates.
Four different princes.
Four different reports.
All tailored.
All partial truths.
Prince Alexander Drake frowned.
"Sire," the Daoist said quietly, "she is compromised."
A beat.
"It is time to eliminate her."
Alexander sighed.
"Oh, Grecia…"
"A spy crafted by my own hand."
There was genuine regret in his tone.
Then it vanished.
"I dislike assassination trails leading back to me."
"She failed once."
"That is already unforgivable."
His gaze turned cold.
"She dies tonight."
The Daoist hesitated.
"And the No Name Princess?"
Alexander's jaw tightened slightly.
"Her?"
Even speaking the title lowered the room's temperature.
"The one whose name is forbidden?"
The Daoist's expression stiffened.
"They say the late King Gaz Drake — His Majesty's elder brother — was beheaded for uttering her name."
Alexander's eyes narrowed.
"Rumors."
"But the palace is thick with fog whenever her matter surfaces."
He folded his sleeves.
"Only when I wear the crown will those secrets open."
The Daoist hesitated again.
"The Seventh Prince and the No Name Princess… are they born of the same mother?"
Alexander gave a humorless smile.
"Yes."
A breath.
"Why don't I have a sister like that?"
His tone was dry.
"Even Father avoids her."
The Daoist's voice lowered.
"If she interferes—"
"She won't," Alexander cut in.
"But Grecia might lead suspicion upward."
His expression hardened completely.
"Remove her before the trail turns."
A long silence followed.
Alexander walked toward the balcony.
The palace torches flickered below.
Somewhere in the distance—
The Seventh Prince trained.
Somewhere else—
A forbidden princess existed.
And above them all—
Secrets older than the kingdom.
"Soon," Alexander murmured.
"Soon I will stand above all this ignorance."
His eyes burned faintly green in the night.
"And when I do…"
"I will burn the unwanted weeds off the palace."