The deep voice of King Steyat echoed through the room, each word carrying a weighty pressure.
“You must have seen the recent battle report delivered by the messenger,” the king said in a low, troubled tone, his brows tightly furrowed as he gazed out the window into the distance.
“Moria has already led her troops to breach Golden Finch City at the Walidan border. She’s expected to return victorious before the Lunar Eclipse Festival begins. The entire nation now eagerly awaits her return.”
Sista listened expressionlessly, not interrupting. Under the dim amber lamplight, the king looked at her with visible difficulty in his eyes—his weary gaze filled with unease.
“Moria is Ansel’s crown princess, and your elder sister. According to our lineage’s tradition, she is the rightful heir to the throne and will take my place.”
“That is only natural, Father. I am merely acting as a temporary regent. All of this will eventually return to my sister,” Sista replied softly, her eyes lowered and lips slightly parted. Her tone was utterly flat, as if none of it concerned her.
“…Sigh.”
The king swallowed hard and let out a long sigh, as though struggling with what to say.
“If you understand your position, then you shouldn’t be so willful anymore, Sista.”
Sista lifted her gaze slightly, her blood-red eyes flashing coldly.
“I’ve let the past go. But at the banquet—why did you act like that? Seban had already arranged a clean exit for you. You could’ve pinned everything on the maid. It would’ve just been one more dead human. At least the royal family’s image would be preserved. The nobles already disapprove of you—”
“Father.”
“I’ve told you before—kindness is your only weakness. How long do you plan to stay this soft—”
“Father.”
Sista interrupted him again. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it silenced the king at once.
“You say you care about my reputation among the nobility. Is that truly for my sake—or for your own?”
The sharp question froze the king where he stood. A flash of astonishment crossed his eyes.
“You know just as well as I do—the Queen’s faction already controls most of Ansels. Neither you nor I are free. If you had properly handled state affairs from the beginning, would we be in this situation now?
“And now, with everything falling apart, you put all your hopes on me. Then don’t blame me for how I do things.”
Though Sista’s posture remained respectful, her voice turned icy. Her gaze stayed fixed on the king’s face, leaving Steyat nowhere to hide.
He knew his daughter wasn’t like other girls. She was sharp, ruthless, and terribly stubborn. But for that very reason—compared to cheerful, charming Moria—he trusted Sista more.
“Kindness? Weakness? You must’ve heard that from Seban. I’ve told you already—he’s aligned himself with the queen. But you insisted on trusting him.”
“Sista, what is that attitude? Seban is—”
The king finally showed signs of anger, but Sista didn’t give him the chance to finish.
“Enough. No matter what I say, you won’t listen. It’s getting late. The patrol guards will be here soon—you’d better return, Father.”
She stood up and walked softly to the door, then turned back to him.
“I know you worry about your safety. In the future, just send word through the ‘Messenger Dove.’ Please don’t barge in like tonight again.”
The king let out a deep, repeated sigh, as if trying to expel all the weight and sorrow in his heart.
He slowly put down the now-cold cup of tea and rose to his feet. His posture seemed tired, but his thick brows relaxed ever so slightly.
“If that’s how you feel, then I’ll take my leave. Don’t let anyone else know about our conversation tonight.”
Half a warning, half a request—he gave Sista one final look from head to toe before the wooden door creaked open. His large figure vanished behind it.
The study fell silent once more.
Sista was alone.
Her eyes roamed the room, occasionally glancing at the firmly shut door, as though Steyat might still be standing outside, ready to barge in again at any moment.
Suddenly, she stood up abruptly, walked to the window, and pushed it open—letting the cool night breeze rush into the room.
She took a deep breath, trying to let the fresh air dispel the unrest in her heart. But it didn’t help. Instead, her mood grew heavier.
“…Heh—”
Weak?
That weak king had the nerve to call her weak?
The more she thought about it, the more Sista clenched her teeth in fury.
The incident at the banquet—she’d only acted to protect Su Ling, to prevent Count Albra from planting spies at her side! She always made decisions based on benefit. That fool Steyat couldn’t even see through Seban’s scheme and thought she was being soft?
“But if it was truly for the sake of benefit… then why not choose a more loyal servant?”
A quiet voice echoed inside her mind. The anger she had just built up drained away in an instant. With her unwavering rationality, she knew: for her own advantage, any potential threat should be eliminated.
“That’s right… that’s right… I should replace her…” she muttered at the corner of her lips. “I should… right? Su Ling…”
Sista leaned against the window, letting the night wind tangle her hair, softly repeating that name over and over again.