He pointed at the Night Queen and said to Shakona excitedly: "Shakona! Look at what you've become now! Bitter and vicious."
"You must have been bewitched by this damned vampire, clouding your mind with spells! It has to be!"
"I remember very clearly finding you unconscious in bed, your neck still bleeding."
"And with blood flowing down your neck, who else could have done it if not her?!"
As he spoke, his emotions got the better of him, and he instinctively reached for the sword at his belt.
However, the moment his fingers touched the hilt, a crimson figure flashed before him with a speed almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
The next moment, Patrick felt his hand go light, and his newly crafted sword was in the Night Queen's hand.
She stood before him like a specter, delicately pinching the blade between her fingers as if she were just picking up a feather.
The entire process was faster than an ordinary person's reaction time; even Geralt's pupils narrowed slightly beside her, his heart pounding.
Though he had been mentally prepared, the speed the Night Queen displayed at that moment still shocked him and sent a chill down his spine.
Was this the strength of an ordinary vampire? Her speed was no less than that of a Striga.
The Night Queen casually tossed the sword into a corner like trash, producing a clattering sound.
She looked at the terrified Patrick, a mocking tone in her voice: "Put away your foolish weapons and fantasies!"
"No one here is using spells to influence her. This is your sister's own will. She is tired of being a pawn in a political marriage."
"She didn't want to waste her young life washing dishes and wiping down the body of an old man who was about to depart."
"She chose to live for herself. That's all."
Patrick's face paled, clearly not believing this rhetoric.
He turned and argued nervously and angrily with Shakona, trying to persuade her with family and aristocratic obligations.
Shakona was completely enraged by his nagging and suddenly raised her voice, almost shouting.
"Enough! Patrick Lane! My marriage is my own business. Even if I want to marry..."
"I will only marry a man who is truly strong, honorable, and respected, like the champion, Sir El! Not some rotten, stinking old man you arranged!"
Her words were loud and clear, full of determination... and a hint of inexplicable longing?
At that moment, a tall figure had just reached the entrance to the staircase leading to the drawing-room.
Karl had originally planned to come see Geralt to discuss escorting Dalton and the others back to Baron's Meadow.
Unexpectedly, as soon as he stepped onto the second floor, he clearly heard Shakona's astonishing declaration.
His steps instantly stopped, frozen in place, a flicker of surprise and extreme speechlessness crossing his face.
He hadn't done anything, and yet he inexplicably had an admirer?
Declaring in front of so many people that she wouldn't marry? What was going on? She couldn't be thinking it was too beautiful.
The four people in the drawing-room, aside from Geralt and the Night Queen, Shakona was shocked by Karl's sudden appearance.
A flicker of surprise crossed the Night Queen's eyes, then it was replaced by playfulness.
Geralt still looked expressionless, but a bit more liveliness appeared in his eyes.
After Shakona uttered that sentence, she suddenly saw the subject of her statement standing nearby, looking at her with an indescribable expression.
Her pale cheeks instantly "flushed," stained with a visible blush, and she was so embarrassed she wished she could disappear.
She hastily turned her back to Karl, wanting to find a crack in the ground to crawl into.
As for Patrick, the moment he saw Karl, the anger on his face was like cold water being thrown on it, quickly dissipating and replaced by slight panic.
When Karl's gaze swept over him, his body flinched almost imperceptibly.
He subconsciously pressed himself against the wall, as if the cold stone could give him more security.
He was silent for a few seconds, his throat constricting, and finally managed to force out a smile uglier than tears.
In a dry tone, he said to Shakona: "Uh... Sister... your, your proposal... well, it could... could be considered."
Karl observed the entire scene, a mixture of amusement and exasperation filling his heart.
He calmly stepped back half a step, opening some distance, and said in an even tone: "Please, continue. Don't mind me. I'll wait for you to finish before I speak with Geralt."
With that, he threw Geralt a glance, indicating "you did this."
Then he crossed his arms and leaned against the railing at the staircase entrance, pretending to be uninvolved.
The atmosphere in the drawing-room became even more subtle and complex due to Karl's unexpected appearance.
Although Shakona and her brother Patrick had deep-seated grievances and heated arguments,
under Karl's silent but weighty gaze, the negotiations proceeded surprisingly smoothly.
Patrick was the first to soften his tone, no longer insisting on the rhetoric of family responsibility.
Instead, with a hint of weariness and compromise, he said to Shakona: "Alright... Sister, I... I won't force you to marry that... old sir again. You have the right to choose your own path."
As he spoke, the corner of his eye couldn't help but glance at Karl, leaning against the stairs, as if seeking some kind of agreement or confirmation.
Shakona saw that her brother had finally relented, and her tense expression relaxed.
She wasn't someone who didn't know right from wrong; she also understood that her brother was to some extent acting for the family's sake, even if she found it unacceptable.
She took a deep breath and replied: "Patrick, I promise you, I will take care of myself."
"I will never engage in those unbearable flesh-and-blood dealings you imagine, which would tarnish the family's reputation."
She paused, her voice firm: "But I will still stay at the House of the Night. I made a promise to the boss before, and... here, at least it gives me choice and freedom."
In truth, Shakona hadn't been working at the House of the Night for long; she was still full of anxiety and hesitation about this marginal life.
She was far from mentally prepared and, naturally, would not easily degrade herself.
Her insistence was more about liberation than about sinking.
The impasse between Patrick and Shakona was superficially reconciled in this slightly rushed but effective dialogue.
Patrick didn't dwell on it and left the House of the Night with mixed feelings.
Shakona breathed a sigh of relief, politely excused herself to the Night Queen and Geralt, and then quickly went downstairs to continue her work as a waitress.
Only, as she passed Karl, her cheeks were still slightly flushed, and she didn't dare to raise her eyes.
The commotion subsided so quickly that the Night Queen gained a deeper and more intuitive understanding of Karl's influence.