Dusk gradually set in at the Regis Residence.
“Ivena, how do I look in this?”
The black evening suit was as elegant as the night, accentuating the golden-haired noble’s tall and upright figure.
With his handsome features and deep eyes, El looked just like a gentleman who had stepped straight out of a storybook.
Ivena extended her slender, fair hands and carefully adjusted his bow tie. “Very nice, young master. I fear you’ll captivate many noble ladies again at tonight’s banquet.”
She gazed at the handsome youth before her, lost in a moment’s trance.
How quickly time passes. In Ivena’s memories, El still seemed to be the little boy who had once reached out his hand to her.
“It’s time to go. Let’s hope nothing happens tonight.”
Just last night, Old Mike had sent word.
“The whole lower city suddenly became restless. The commotion was small, but it didn’t escape our notice. I think those bastards are about to make their move.”
“That’s fine too. They’ll show their flaws because of this.”
Was their target him? But with the Second Prince’s banquet, how would they act? El pondered.
“You’re right, but what comes next won’t be easy… I hope these old bones can still hold up. I’ll take care of this commission, you just mind your own business. Matters of the nobility are best left untouched by me.”
The banquet was to be held at Kant Manor on the outskirts of the capital, named after the Kant River that ran through it.
The scenery was beautiful, the facilities complete, surrounded by vast, sunlit plains—it was the property of Duke Lavaud.
Why not hold the banquet in the bustling capital? Obviously, because the upper city was under the Iris Princess’s supervision, with a curfew at night.
In a sense, this banquet organized by the Second Prince was a challenge to Cielsa.
Cerys had readied his carriage, and a pure white steed waited quietly for his command.
El didn’t hurry to the destination. Instead, he had Cerys drive to Aurelia’s residence.
Godfil’s ducal estate in the capital was too far from the academy, so for convenience, Aurelia had bought a small villa near the academy.
From afar, he could see Aurelia waiting in the garden by the door.
She wore an off-white chiffon evening gown, the skirt pooling at her feet in layers like breaking waves.
A black ribbon trailed from her waist sash, forming a striking contrast that made Aurelia’s waistline especially alluring.
Her makeup was exquisite, and a white rose hairpiece adorned her radiant golden hair. The face, usually cold as ice, now bloomed with a smile.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
El said skillfully, as if this conversation had happened countless times before.
“Making a lady wait this long, Mr. Regis, is not what a gentleman should do.”
She extended her hand, gloved in white lace. El took it and helped her into the carriage. Everything was graceful and appropriate—the most important thing was the ease and familiarity of it all.
“I have a feeling tonight will be a wonderful night,” Aurelia said, her gaze lingering on El’s profile.
“Let’s hope so.”
As if! Ever since morning, El had felt an ominous premonition in his heart.
No matter what, with so many nobles present, even if the Second Prince colluded with the cultists, they might not dare do anything rash. Perhaps he was simply being overly cautious.
The route wasn’t far—not by carriage standards—but the time passed slowly, so the two began to chat idly.
“Aurelia: …In short, soul-based magic is dangerous, but it’s still of great importance to the progress of the world.”
El: “That’s right. Theoretical advances are vital for practical applications. Take the development of Alchemical Prosthesis, for example—they help adventurers and knights who’ve lost limbs find new meaning in life. But if there weren’t any theories of soul magic to support them…”
He smiled.
El went on, explaining his understanding. Aurelia rested her chin on one hand, watching his passionate expressions with a faint smile.
She understood El well and knew how to spark his interest.
Of course, she wasn’t truly interested in magical theory. To Aurelia, it was just another set of formulas and principles to remember for alchemy.
But because someone she cared about was interested in it, she was happy to listen—as long as she could watch him, that was enough.
With that thought, she unconsciously placed her hand atop El’s, their fingers interlacing.
El didn’t notice her hand, still lost in his own world.
Through the carriage window, they could see the sky tinged pink by the sunset. The commotion of pedestrians, mixed with the gentle evening breeze, floated softly into the carriage.
It was wonderful—just like the old days, she thought.
Cerys inwardly grumbled, I can’t even remember how many times I’ve been their coachman.
He quietly said to the white horse, “Rug, take it slow. No need to rush; there’s plenty of time. Don’t disturb them.”
The white horse snorted, indicating to Cerys that it understood.
***
In a secret room of Kant Manor.
Fiery red hair and striking features—the high nose bridge exuded arrogance at a glance.
Felix Reinhardt, Second Prince of the Leon Empire.
He was conversing with a shadow whose features couldn’t be seen.
“Your Highness, the throne should already be yours. That bastard isn’t even qualified to compete with you. But to achieve this, ‘that one’ is necessary.”
Unexpectedly, the shadow spoke with a voice so enchanting it could melt one’s bones.
“I just want to know, once you awaken the demon inside Lord Regis’s body, will it really obey my commands? Is he truly as powerful as you claim?”
Felix demanded, the authority of a king in his bearing.
“Hehe… ‘Powerful’ is too narrow a word… ‘Magnificent’ is more fitting. If that one truly descends, he could destroy this world.”
“As for your throne, it would naturally be within your grasp.”
Felix cut in, “I’ve heard that line enough. What I want to know is—”
“Your worries aren’t unfounded. How could such a being willingly submit to you? But we have a way to control him. When the time comes, we can have him sign a contract with you. There’s no need to fear him going out of control.”
The shadow explained.
“We are all your humble servants. As the Lion King of the Leon Empire, of course you have such grandeur.”
The shadow drifted before Felix, forming into a seductively human shape, bewitching and teasing Felix’s cheek.
Felix’s expression didn’t change. “It had better be so. We’re simply using each other. As agreed, I provide you with operational support, and you must obey my orders—until I seize the throne.”
He couldn’t help but ask, “Who exactly lives inside Lord Regis’s body? And why did he end up inside him?”
“That, I’m not entirely sure…” the shadow said. “But I can tell you his name.”
“He is one of the most supreme among all demons, the founder of a great dynasty in the Abyss. The demons usually honor him as—the Demon Lord of Wrath, Anger.”
She recited as if chanting some ancient spell.
Felix asked curiously, “Wrath? Is he a violent ruler?”
“Quite the opposite, actually. He ended the previous, miserable reign of ‘Greed,’ giving demons a chance to breathe. All in all, he was a decent fellow,” the shadow mused absent-mindedly.
“Is that so… Tonight’s plan cannot fail. There won’t be another opportunity like this.”
“As you command.”