Eileen’s carriage pressed forward through the snowstorm toward the fortress occupied by the Empire.
Inside the command room of Maria Fortress, the Imperial Chancellor—once humiliated over the Ravenhold mithril mine and now the proud “Chairman of the Blackstone Trading Company”—stood with a triumphant grin.
He stroked his carefully trimmed goatee as he gazed at the war map littered with Imperial Black Eagle banners marking the Kingdom’s northern territories.
A smile crept uncontrollably across his lips.
“Brilliant… simply brilliant!” he whispered, eyes flickering with near-fanatical admiration for Empress Frederica.
“To put herself in danger, use herself as bait, and disguise as a fragile adventurer girl—she didn’t just infiltrate the very heart of the Kingdom, she took down these three ironclad fortresses the Kingdom has boasted about for centuries! Her Majesty’s cunning is beyond mortal comprehension! This deal is not just breaking even, it’s a windfall!”
In his eyes, the Empress’s masquerade as Clariette, the Ravenhold Governor, was a masterstroke.
Not only did it effortlessly pull the main border troops away, but it also completely shattered Marquis Cecil’s influence at the Kingdom’s court, leaving him utterly powerless and distrusted.
Now, several wealthy border territories, including the resource-rich Ravenhold, were under the Empire’s de facto control.
“Hmph, Crown Prince Wil? A spoilt brat, all flash and no substance,” the Chancellor sneered, tapping his fingers against the edge of the war map.
“Leading a bunch of inexperienced Kingdom knights and a hastily assembled legion, thinking they can stop my Empire’s iron cavalry? What a joke! This battle is as good as won!”
He especially admired Her Majesty’s use of “Dawnshade,” the shadowy blade in the darkness.
If not for those elusive, top-tier assassins who replaced key fortress commanders without anyone noticing, merely relying on an official order to seize a centuries-old fortress so cleanly would have been impossible.
Thinking of Dawnshade’s leader, the terrifyingly skilled Lorelei the Dark Crow, and Her Majesty’s absolute control over her, the Chancellor felt completely at ease.
“Right now, Her Majesty is surely strategizing how to wipe out this decaying Kingdom and that damned Church in one fell swoop,” the Chancellor said, gazing confidently out the window at the fortress’s imposing military formations.
“As a loyal servant, all I have to do is clear obstacles for Her Majesty! And she’s thinking far beyond that!”
Yet, the Empress the Chancellor imagined—masterfully plotting and seeing far ahead—was in reality in a situation entirely different from his assumptions.
Inside the most lavish former commandant’s residence of Rosey Fortress, Frederica—who had just discarded her “Clariette” disguise as the Imperial Empress—was sprawled on an expensive swan velvet bed without any dignity.
Clutching a slightly rough but clearly custom-made life-sized body pillow modeled after Eileen, she buried her face deeply in the pillow’s soft “chest” and kicked her legs excitedly in the air, emitting stifled, childlike “oo-oo” sounds as if she had stolen candy.
“Eileen… Eileen… my Eileen…” she rolled around, her cheeks flushed unnaturally red, eyes glazed with excitement.
“You finally have no choice… The Kingdom abandoned you, the Church slandered you, the whole world stands against you… Now, only here—with me—is your true home!”
The thought that Eileen had nowhere else to turn and ultimately had to come to her filled Frederica with overwhelming satisfaction and possessiveness, making her want to scream with excitement.
“Seizing the fortress to force you into my arms… Two birds with one stone! I’m a genius—Frederica is a genius!” She rolled again on the bed, burying her face deeper, greedily breathing in as if the pillow still carried a faint trace of Eileen’s elusive scent.
Her thoughts drifted back to a distant past.
That year, a bloody palace coup swept the Empire.
The young Frederica, with almost all loyal guards dead, fled like a lost dog toward the Kingdom’s border.
Hungry, cold, severely injured, she collapsed in the icy snow, barely conscious, when she saw a blurred figure glowing with warm light approaching her.
It was Eileen.
Back then, Eileen was just a girl not much older than her.
Without hesitation, she took in the unknown, injured Frederica, cared for her carefully, and gave her the only warmth and refuge in that cold despair.
Those clear golden eyes, that defenseless kindness and gentleness, were branded deep into Frederica’s soul like a tattoo.
From that moment, Frederica knew—she wanted this person! No matter the cost!
But she was the Empire’s princess (later Empress), and Eileen was the Kingdom’s marquis’s daughter.
Between them lay national hatred and the cold wall of politics.
She knew she could never openly possess Eileen under the name “Frederica.”
All these years, she constantly planned and schemed.
How to make Eileen leave that doomed Kingdom?
How to make her willingly fall into her arms?
A huge, intricate plan took shape in her heart.
The “amnesia” disguise became the perfect mask to get close to Eileen.
Those days spent side by side in Ravenhold were the sweetest yet most painful moments of her life.
Sweet to be able to see her so closely, to feel her presence; painful to suppress the surging emotions and play the role of a “loyal and reliable” maid.
Especially that night locked in the basement with its ambiguous atmosphere… Just recalling it made Frederica’s heart race and cheeks burn.
Eileen’s panicked yet forced calm expression was just too adorable!
“This time… this time you can’t escape, my Eileen…” Frederica mumbled obsessively, rubbing the pillow, eyes shining with a victorious gleam.
“I will make you understand that only by being with me can you find true happiness and…”
“—Your Majesty, watch out!”
A cold, urgent shout exploded like thunder in Frederica’s ear!
The Empress, lost in sweet delusions, was instantly alert!
A cold, concentrated killing intent surged like a venomous snake striking from the darkest corner of the room’s deepest shadow!
A glint of cold light sliced through the air with deadly precision, aiming straight for Frederica’s pale throat!
Fast! Ruthless! Accurate!
This was no ordinary assassin, but a top killer well-versed in the art of shadows!
The timing was perfect—exactly when Frederica’s guard was at its lowest!
Her pupils suddenly contracted!
Instinct kicked in faster than thought, and clutching the pillow, she rolled desperately toward the bed’s center!
The movement was clumsy and undignified, completely stripping away any imperial grace!
Whoosh!
The sharp dagger’s tip grazed the side of her neck, tearing a line of blood, then plunged deep into the soft velvet pillow!
The chilling breath of death made her hairs stand on end instantly!
But just as the dagger was about to pierce the pillow and harm Frederica—
Another hand clad in black leather armor shot out like iron pincers from another shadow, lightning fast and perfectly precise, grabbing the assassin’s wrist!
“Hmph!”
A cold snort, youthful in tone but icy to the bone, echoed.
The assassin’s figure was forcibly dragged from the shadows—it was none other than Eileen’s maid, Lyra!
Her face twisted with deep hatred and resolve, struggling desperately, but the hand gripping her wrist held firm and unmoving with surprising strength!
“Lyra… after all these years, have you… grown weak?”
A small figure slowly stepped out from the shadows.
She wore fitted black leather armor, outlining a nearly flat figure, her face half-hidden behind a crow mask revealing only a delicately shaped chin and a slight, mocking curve of cherry lips.
Her voice was clear like a girl’s, yet her eyes behind the mask were cold and indifferent, as if crystallized from millennia of ice.
She was the leader of Dawnshade, the world’s deadliest assassin, codename “Dark Crow”—Lorelei!
A creature of mysterious age, appearing like a twelve or thirteen-year-old loli!
“Has your blade rusted from indulging in the comfortable life of a maid? With such skills, you dare attempt to assassinate Her Majesty?” Lorelei’s voice dripped with undisguised contempt.
“Lorelei! Let me go!” Lyra’s eyes turned red with fury as she glared fiercely at the shaken Frederica on the bed, blood seeping from her neck wound.
“Frederica! You vile lunatic! You doomed the young mistress to hell! I will never forgive you!”
Frederica sat up, touching the fiery pain at her neck, staring at her blood-stained fingertips.
The flush of excitement faded instantly, replaced by a chilling frost.
The infatuated gaze of a lovestruck girl vanished, replaced by the cold authority of the Imperial Empress.
“Love?” Frederica’s voice was low and dangerous, carrying undeniable pressure.
“Lyra, what do you understand? It is because I love Eileen deeply that this must be done! Only by completely severing her from that rotten Kingdom, from those hypocrites who will hurt her, only by leaving her with nowhere else to go, will she truly belong to me! Everything I have done is to win and protect her! This profound love—how could a servant like you, who only knows blind loyalty, possibly understand?!”
“Nonsense! Your twisted love will only destroy the young mistress!” Lyra roared angrily.
Lorelei tightened her grip slightly, and Lyra let out a muffled grunt, feeling her wrist bones nearly crushed.
The dagger dropped to the floor.
“Your Majesty, how shall we deal with this traitor?” Lorelei’s voice was flat, as if asking how to dispose of trash.
“Kill her?”
Frederica looked at Lyra’s furious and defiant face, fell silent for a moment, then her eyes flickered.
“No.”
She slowly shook her head, a cold smile curling on her lips.
“Keep her alive. She still has use. After all… she is Eileen’s ‘most trusted’ maid, isn’t she? Lock her up, keep her under strict watch.”
“Yes.” Lorelei nodded without question.
She waved her hand lightly, and two ghostlike black shadows silently appeared behind Lyra, swiftly removing her gag to prevent tongue-biting suicide and locking her limbs and magical circuits with specially made shadow shackles.
Lyra could only let out angry, desperate whimpers as the two shadows dragged her deeper into darkness.
The room fell silent again, filled only with the faint smell of blood and Frederica’s slightly heavy breathing.
Lorelei vanished back into the shadows as silently as she had appeared, as if she had never been there.
Frederica sat on the disheveled bed, stroking the wound on her neck, her gaze dark and unfathomable.
The harrowing assassination attempt and Lyra’s curses had doused her earlier excitement like a bucket of cold water.
“Eileen…”
She looked down at the pillow with Eileen’s smiling face printed on it, her fingers gripping so tightly that her knuckles whitened, voice trembling faintly with obsessive fervor.
“Soon… very soon, we will be together forever… No one can stop us… no one…”
Meanwhile, in the northern Kingdom stronghold—Sol City.
The heavy city gates slowly opened and closed.
Teams of exhausted, bloodstained Kingdom knights trudged through the blizzard, entering the city.
On the walls, the banner symbolizing the Crown Prince fluttered weakly in the cold wind, seeming lackluster.
Inside the temporarily requisitioned governor’s mansion, the atmosphere was as heavy as solid lead.
Crown Prince Wil—or rather, now clad in silver armor and bearing a heavy exhaustion in her brows, Vell—was fixated on the massive military map before her.
On the map, the black arrows symbolizing the Imperial invasion slithered like venomous snakes, stabbing deep into the Kingdom’s heartland from the fallen fortresses of Maria, Rosey, and Xina.
And Sol City, where she stood, was like a solitary nail blocking one of those black arrows’ path.
Her pale fingers pressed hard on Sol City’s position, knuckles whitening from the strain.
“I still… can’t believe it…”
Vell’s voice was filled with deep confusion and an unshakable heaviness, as if speaking to herself or the silent Kingdom generals around her.
“Eileen… colluding with the Empire? Betraying us from within? How… how is that possible?!”
Before her eyes, the image of Eileen in the capital reappeared—at the banquet, bearing the label of “villainous marquis’s daughter,” yet with clear, open eyes; the Eileen Ravenhold who ignored gossip and acted as if nothing mattered.
That Eileen would betray her own country, conspire with the Empire’s mortal enemy, even to the extent of letting Imperial boots trample her family lands?
Impossible. Absolutely impossible. There must be something hidden behind this.
In the past, she had deeply hurt Eileen by trusting rumors, but this time it would be different.
No matter the Kingdom’s gossip, she would stand firmly by Eileen’s side!
She would choose to believe her!
“… Eileen, please don’t let me down.”
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