General Sera left, filled with doubts and conflict.
The heavy doors slowly closed, isolating the royal dining room from the outside world and dividing it into two separate realms.
The moment the door closed with a “click,” the tension in the air shattered like glass.
“Hu….”
Wendy, Yekaterina, and Laxana all let out long breaths at the same time, like drowning people finally breaking through the surface, slumping into their chairs.
The relief of surviving a disaster, mixed with the adrenaline from their earlier thrilling performance, made their hearts pound uncontrollably in their chests.
“My legs are numb.”
Laxana complained weakly, rubbing her aching calf.
Just now, she’d tensed all her muscles to keep up the act, making her body feel like solid stone.
“I thought we were done for.”
Yekaterina patted her chest, still shaken.
Her earlier fragile expression was long gone, twisted into a sick excitement, her emerald eyes shining dangerously.
“Wendy, you really looked the part just now!”
Wendy rolled his eyes at her, then reached under the table, feeling around until he hooked out the white knee-high boot that had been kicked into the depths.
He tossed it to Laxana’s feet.
“And you have the nerve to talk?”
He scolded.
“If you two hadn’t started fighting in secret, would so much trouble have happened?”
“General Sera isn’t an idiot. We barely got through today, but she’s definitely suspicious now.”
Laxana quietly picked up her boot, cheeks flushing as she lowered her head, like a student caught sneaking out to an internet cafe.
“So what?”
Yekaterina didn’t care in the slightest.
She stretched lazily, her graceful curves outlined beneath her silk robe.
“Didn’t we fool her anyway? Honestly, I found it… rather interesting～”
She licked her lips, savoring the memory.
“Don’t you think so? Doing unspeakable things in front of others… That feeling is even more thrilling than last night.”
“………..”
A vein throbbed on Wendy’s forehead.
He decided not to argue with this crazy woman whose brain was clearly broken.
He stood up, surveying the chaotic dining table.
The lavish dishes had long gone cold, and none of the three had any appetite left.
“Don’t just sit there. Hurry and clean up. Laxana, can’t your magic take care of this? Get rid of the smell too. Yekaterina, call the maids back and have them reset everything.”
The Prince issued his orders calmly.
After this disastrous dinner, it seemed he now held the dominant position in their strange three-person relationship.
Maybe it was his composure, but the two women—so conflicted just moments ago—didn’t argue this time.
Instead, they obediently moved into action.
Laxana lifted her slender hand, conjuring a gentle sphere of water element that floated through the dining room, sweeping away the mixed scents of food and ambiguity.
Yekaterina pulled the bell rope, summoning the maids.
Soon, the dining room was restored to its original state.
But all three knew that some things had changed forever.
The experience of deceiving General Sera together was like an invisible thread, binding them more tightly than ever.
They were no longer just lovers and rivals, but accomplices and co-conspirators sharing a deadly secret.
Such a relationship was dangerous—yet carried an intoxicating allure.
***
The next morning, at the Royal Workshop.
Noise replaced the previous night’s ambiguity.
The clanging of craftsmen’s hammers, the shouts of assistants, and the unique roar of more than a dozen magic printing presses blended into a symphony that belonged to the eve of an industrial revolution.
After a single night, Wendy’s plan was transforming from blueprint to reality at an astonishing speed.
Prime Minister Allison had shown the iron will of a ruthless politician, swiftly gathering the capital’s best craftsmen, scribes, and even several royal mages, placing the entire Royal Workshop firmly under her control.
Everyone involved was bound by the strictest Confidentiality Order.
Guards were stationed every few steps around the workshop, making it impossible for even a fly to enter.
In the workshop’s core area, Wendy stood in front of a newly assembled printing press, his expression focused.
This machine was the final version, optimized by Laxana.
Its body was cast from Alchemical Alloy, and the critical printing and inking components were engraved with intricate, orderly Magic Inscriptions.
No longer needing manual operation, it was powered by a Magic Crystal embedded in its base, achieving true “automation.”
“Typesetting is complete.”
Laxana approached the Prince, handing him a freshly checked proof.
“All the Lead Movable Type has been arranged according to your layout. We can start the first test print at any time.”
Today, Miss Klein had changed into a practical mage’s outfit, her golden hair tied high in a ponytail—less delicate than usual, but exuding heroic energy.
Wendy took the proof and examined it carefully.
The headline was printed in the largest font:
Below was the full confession of Edwin Veid, refined overnight by himself and Prime Minister Allison.
Every word struck precisely at the reputation the Veid faction had upheld for a century.
“How about it? Is that title eye-catching enough?”
Yekaterina’s voice came from the other side.
She too had abandoned her cumbersome palace gown, wearing a tight riding suit, and watched with interest as workers moved stacks of snow-white Hemp Paper beside the machine.
“More than enough.”
Wendy nodded, returning the proof to Laxana.
“Let’s go with this. Start it up. Let’s see… just how powerful this weapon of public opinion can be!”
Excitement flashed in Laxana’s eyes.
She walked to the printing press and gave an order to the mage operating it.
“Inject magic, activate the Constant Pressure Spell Array. Prepare for the first print!”
“Yes, Lady Klein!”
The mage respectfully replied, pressing a fist-sized Magic Crystal into the machine’s socket.
“Vmmm—”
The entire machine emitted a low hum, Magic Inscriptions lighting up one by one in ghostly blue across its surface.
The automatic inking roller began to spin, spreading the special ink evenly over the Lead Movable Type.
A sheet of white paper was fed in, and under magical power, the pressing component descended smoothly and firmly.
“Ka-cha!”
A clear sound rang out.
The world’s first newspaper produced by movable type printing was born.
A servant carefully extracted the still-damp, ink-scented sheet and respectfully presented it to the three.
Wendy, Laxana, and Yekaterina’s gazes all converged on the seemingly ordinary paper.
The characters were clear and neat, the typesetting balanced—far more beautiful than any scribe’s handwritten work.
And such a thing could be reproduced dozens of times in mere seconds.
“My god…”
Yekaterina reached out, gently touching the slightly wet ink.
Her emerald eyes shone with shock, obsession, and a hint of secret greed.
“Prince Wendy, is this… the power you spoke of?”