The street-facing shop of Morning Dew Corner had opened its doors.
There was no grand ceremony, no boisterous celebration just, on a certain bright and sunny morning, a hand-written wooden sign with humble wording was hung outside: “Leah’s Mom’s Secret Roast Chicken”.
At first, the residents of the Rose District regarded this new shop with a wait-and-see attitude.
After all, the people who lived here were all either rich or noble, and most of them looked down on roadside snacks.
However, when that bold, rich aroma, a blend of spices and roasted meat drifted through the air for the first time on the breeze, it was as if the entire district’s air had been given a soul.
Very soon, word of mouth spread like wildfire. It was said that a pair of stunning mother and daughter had recently moved into Morning Dew Corner; the mother was a charming widow, and the daughter resembled a valiant young knight. As for their roast chicken, it was a mortal delicacy that could make you swallow your tongue! This news became the hottest topic of conversation in the Rose District and even several surrounding neighborhoods.
On Silverglow City’s afternoons, the outdoor tea terraces of the Rose District had always been the go-to place for noble ladies to while away their time.
“Have you heard? That new roast chicken shop on the corner, ‘Leah’s Mom’, the taste is absolutely divine!” A Countess poked her cake with a fork in tiny bites, but her eyes sparkled with gossip.
“It’s more than just the taste!” a glamorous Viscountess at the next table immediately chimed in excitedly. “That Lady Tulia, ah, when I went to buy roast chicken last time, the way she took the coins from my hand… those eyes of hers… even my woman’s heart nearly melted! And her daughter, all dressed in tight-fitting clothes, so handsome and pretty, really… tsk tsk!”
Baroness Eleanor, long renowned for her elegant taste, now wore a grave expression. She tapped the table lightly with the handle of her fan and lamented, “Such an elegant and stunning lady, yet she must spend her days amidst oil and smoke, how unfortunate! I hear she’s a widow, raising her daughter alone. Life must be very hard for her!”
She snapped her fan shut, her face filled with a sense of sacred mission. “No! I cannot just stand by! As a person of standing in Silverglow City, I have a responsibility to ‘look after’ this poor lady, to introduce her into our social circles, and keep her safe from unsavory elements.”
“Pfft—”
A completely unrestrained laugh came from the side. A middle-aged woman, dressed well and looking like a wealthy merchant’s wife, held a teacup with an amused look on her face.
“Baroness Eleanor, you do talk a good game.” The lady’s voice was crisp and blunt. “Bringing her into your social circle? I think you just fancy her looks and want to ‘look after’ this beautiful lady at your own house, don’t you?”
The Baroness’s face turned red in an instant. She stiffened her neck and argued, “You… what nonsense! This is… this is female solidarity! Pure and simple!”
“Sure, sure,” the woman laughed even harder, winking at those around her, “Solidarity right into bed—we all know how that goes, don’t we?”
The surrounding noble ladies quickly raised their fans to cover their mouths, trying and failing to suppress their laughter. The tea terrace was filled with mirth.
In contrast to the noise of the marketplace, deep within the Royal City, a side hall was so quiet you could hear the faint rustling of golden-threaded curtains.
“Your Highness.”
A young Female Knight, dressed in silver-white light armor and standing tall, knelt on one knee and respectfully reported to the golden-haired figure by the window.
“Rose District, Morning Dew Corner. According to the information you provided, we have confirmed that the new resident’s name is Tulia Von Nolstein. She has a daughter and runs a roast chicken shop. Her appearance… is almost exactly as you described.”
The golden-haired girl by the window slowly turned around. It was Alyssa—the very one Tulia had saved in the dungeon.
At this moment, she had long since shed her former fear and dishevelment. Now, clad in a luxurious palace gown, her emerald eyes held a calmness and depth far beyond her years.
“Tulia…” she softly repeated the name, her fingers unconsciously tapping on the windowsill. “And she has a daughter… opened a roast chicken shop?”
All of this sounded too fantastical to believe.
The one who had moved like a phantom in the dungeon, slaughtering dozens of guards with bizarre blood magic, now living like an ordinary person, running a small shop in the capital?
“Isabella,” Alyssa looked at her most trusted knight, her voice steady and emotionless, “I need you to confirm something.”
“Please give your command.” The Female Knight, named Isabella, raised her head, her eyes unwavering in loyalty.
Alyssa was silent for a moment, as if weighing her words. Then, the corner of her lips curled into a subtle, inscrutable smile, a mischievous idea taking shape in her mind.
“A beautiful widow with a daughter, living alone in the capital, what kind of trouble do you think she’s most likely to run into?” There was a hint of calculation in her voice.
Isabella’s brow furrowed slightly. “Your Highness, you mean…”
“Street thugs collecting protection money? No, that’s too crude,” Alyssa shook her head, a hint of sarcasm glinting in her eyes, at odds with her innocent appearance. “With looks like hers, the most common and hardest to shake off—trouble always comes from those so-called ‘upper-class’ types.”
She turned around, emerald eyes staring straight at Isabella, and her next words sent a shock through the knight’s heart.
“Isabella, I want you to play the part of a lecherous, dissolute noble. You’ll ‘happen’ to pass by her shop, become smitten with the beautiful widow, and decide to bring her back to your manor as your mistress.”
“Your Highness?!” Isabella jerked her head up, her face awash in shock and humiliation. “You want me… to play the role of a scoundrel who snatches women from the streets?!”
In contrast to the noise of the marketplace, deep within the Royal City, a side hall was so quiet you could hear the faint rustling of golden-threaded curtains.
“Your Highness.” Isabella knelt on one knee, reporting the latest intelligence.
Alyssa, by the window, slowly turned around. Her emerald eyes showed no ripple of emotion—if anything, they revealed a fatigue and gloom at odds with her youthful age.
“Tulia Von Nolstein…”
She murmured the name, a self-mocking smile on her lips.
“You see, Isabella, this palace, called the Royal City is, to me, nothing but a splendid cage. My so-called ‘good brothers’ and ‘good sisters’ would love nothing more than to see me locked up here forever, until I rot into a skeleton.”
She walked up to Isabella and reached out, gently lifting her knight to her feet.
“In this man-eating place, you are the only one I can trust. My eyes, my hands, my sword—they’re all you, Isabella.”
Alyssa’s voice was gentle, yet carried a bewitching power. “And this woman’s appearance… it’s a massive variable.”
She paused, meeting Isabella’s eyes, and spoke each word deliberately, “I want you to play a lecherous, dissolute noble. Go to her shop and, in the most arrogant and disrespectful way, tell her you fancy her and want to take her home.”
“Your Highness?!” Isabella recoiled as if struck by lightning, stepping back, her face filled with shock and humiliation. “You… you want me to become… such scum? To humiliate an innocent woman?”
“Innocent?” Alyssa’s tone turned cold. “Isabella, you’re too naïve! A woman who can escape from a hell like the Northport Slave Traders Guild with her life—is she some innocent commoner?”
She took a step forward, bearing down on her knight, her voice filled with pain and disappointment. “Isabella, have you forgotten our promise? When we hid under that old banyan tree as children—you promised you’d be my sword!”
Seeing Isabella’s shaken resolve, Alyssa’s voice softened in an instant.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, laced with a plea and vulnerability.
“I know, this is hard for you.” Alyssa’s voice was as soft as a sigh. She slowly lifted her hand and untied the dark green silk ribbon that bound her golden hair. As it slid down with her movement, it carried the fragrance and warmth of her hair.
“Take this.” She gently placed the ribbon into Isabella’s palm, closing her hand around it. “It’s the only thing my mother left me it’s always been with me. Now, I’m entrusting it to you.”
The moment that soft silk touched her palm, a shivering electric current shot through Isabella from her fingertips to her whole body.
The ribbon still carried Alyssa’s scent and a hint of her warmth.
This wasn’t just a token it was practically… a part of Her Highness’s body! A blessing! A relic!
Isabella’s mind buzzed, going utterly blank.
“When you feel your honor is stained, hold it tight,” Alyssa’s voice was dangerously gentle. “Remember who it belongs to. Remember… who you’re fighting for. Isabella, this isn’t an order—it’s my… request.”
“My honor…”
That phrase flashed through Isabella’s mind, only to be washed away by the soft touch and intoxicating scent in her hand, leaving it laughable and insignificant.
What did honor matter?
Compared to this ribbon in her hand, compared to Her Highness’s request, compared to those tearful eyes—the so-called honor of a knight was nothing but worthless, discardable scrap!
She clenched her fingers tight, clutching the ribbon so hard it seemed to sink into her flesh.
Once again, she knelt on one knee. This time, there was no trace of struggle or humiliation in her voice—only a feverish, trembling devotion.
“Yes. Everything I have… belongs to you, Your Highness.”
Leaving the palace, the warm sunlight shone upon Isabella’s silver-white armor.
She didn’t feel heavy or cold. On the contrary, she felt an unprecedented excitement—as if she were heading into a holy war.
She entered an empty corridor, carefully opening her palm, gazing at the dark green ribbon with the reverence of a devout believer viewing a sacred relic.
She slowly brought the ribbon to her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply and obsessively.
Her Highness’s scent…
A feverish flush crept across her cheeks, her eyes going hazy and wild.
She looked at her own blurred reflection on the stone column, curling her lips once more.
She relaxed her shoulders; the upright military posture vanished, replaced by a lazy, predatory, and unruly stance.
She even made a vulgar gesture at her reflection, licking her lips with her tongue.
Ugly? Yes.
Disgusting? Yes.
But this was what Her Highness wished her to become.
That was enough.
Isabella carefully hid the ribbon close to her heart, keeping it nearest to where her heart beat.
The upright, noble Royal Knight Isabella had already died in the heady fragrance of a moment ago.