The following afternoon, a luxurious carriage bearing the Bloodborn crest glided steadily along the road to the ducal mansion.
To show proper respect, Seraphina had ignored Movira’s suggestion to take her outrageously ostentatious personal coach and instead accepted the one Dekrian had sent.
Dekrian dared not be negligent. After instructing the coachman a thousand times to drive smoothly—slow was fine, but it must be steady—he finally dispatched his own carriage, polished dozens of times for the occasion.
Inside the compartment, Seraphina wore a meticulously tailored gown of midnight black, deliberately cut in the Gothic style to suit Bloodborn tastes.
A high lace collar framed her pale elegance.
She looked like a work of art—something to be admired from afar, never touched.
Of course, Seraphina had also shown Lina great consideration; she did not make her wear a maid’s uniform but instead gave her another formal dress.
A silver-grey satin gown—dignified, noble, and coolly distant.
Seraphina leaned against the soft cushions, brows faintly drawn together.
Though Dekrian had warned the coachman repeatedly—and the coachman himself was even more nervous than his master—Seraphina still felt extremely unwell.
It was not the coachman’s fault.
It was her own body.
The carriage was already doing its utmost not to sway even the slightest bit, yet to Seraphina, the rocking never ceased.
“Here.” Lina, seated opposite, offered a small scented sachet. A cool herbal fragrance wafted from it.
“Before we left, I asked Erasia for this. She said it helps with… dizziness.”
Seraphina glanced at her, accepted the sachet, and held it lightly beneath her nose. A refreshing scent—mint-like, but gentler than mint—flowed into her mind.
It did ease the churning in her stomach quite a bit. “…Thank you.”
She murmured the words softly, then turned her gaze to the window. Through the slightly parted curtain, she watched the passing scenery.
The Demon Realm’s land was barren after all. Most of what flashed by was a dreary palette of greys.
Here and there on the wasteland, lower demons struggled to survive—hunched figures in tattered rags that stood in stark, glaring contrast to the luxury of the carriage.
Especially once they entered the town, every dozen metres or so, armed demon soldiers stood on both sides of the road, sealing it off.
Seraphina could only see their backs.
As for the demons living here, any who happened to be present were forced to drop to their knees, heads bowed…
All Seraphina could see were the tops of their heads…
Was this… something she would have to confront in the future as well?
Unbeknownst to her, not far behind the carriage, a figure that melted almost perfectly into the shadows followed silently…
Any “accident” that might disturb the person inside would, without question, be erased without a trace…
The procession arrived smoothly at the ancient castle. The towering iron gates slowly swung open, and the carriage rolled straight in, coming to a stop in the cobblestone forecourt.
A team of maids who had been waiting for some time respectfully opened the door.
Because word had spread that Seraphina would attend in person, many nobles—who would normally only arrive at night—had come early.
It was barely sunset…
When Seraphina stepped down from the carriage, supported by Lina’s hand, she instantly became the centre of all attention.
Beneath the magnificent castle, her petite frame still carried an undeniable, breathtaking beauty.
The previously noisy courtyard fell silent in an instant.
Dekrian immediately broke off his conversation with another noble and hurried forward, bowing with perfect elegance and deference.
“We humbly welcome Your Highness’s esteemed arrival. Your presence brings glory to this lowly abode!”
Following him, representatives of various clans—some chieftains themselves, others high-ranking officials—all wore radiant, enthusiastic smiles and showered her with flattery.
“Your Highness is truly radiant today.”
“I heard Your Highness perfectly resolved the recent conflict at Blackstone Outpost just days ago—such masterful methods, blending force with wisdom. Truly admirable.”
“The policies Your Highness has implemented…”
Seraphina maintained a calm exterior, nodding slightly in acknowledgement.
Yet surrounded by so many demons—most of them powerful—gazing at her with curiosity, calculation, or barely disguised scrutiny, her body stiffened ever so slightly.
Dekrian keenly noticed her discomfort and smoothly parted the overly eager crowd with a smile. “Your Highness must be weary from the journey. Please come inside and rest a moment. The banquet will begin shortly.”
Seraphina cast him a grateful glance and followed his lead through the ancient gates.
They passed through a long, dimly lit corridor lined with oil paintings, then suddenly emerged into the grand banquet hall.
The hall blazed with light. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, scattering dazzling brilliance.
Snow-white tablecloths draped the long tables, adorned with exquisite silverware and crystal goblets.
Many guests were already present, speaking in low murmurs.
Seraphina’s entrance once again caused a considerable stir, though everyone did their best to restrain themselves.
Those in the courtyard had been minor nobles who only knew how to fawn. The ones inside the hall held real status.
They had originally intended to seat Seraphina at the place of honour.
“I’m sorry. Tonight’s protagonist is not me.”
She declined with those words.
The remark clearly reached Dekrian’s ears—a tremendous honour Seraphina was bestowing upon him. The surrounding nobles couldn’t help but regard Dekrian with newfound respect.
After enduring wave after wave of greetings, Seraphina withdrew to a corner of the terrace. Seeing this, the other nobles tactfully kept their distance and did not approach.
Of course… there was one exception.
“Your Highness.” A graceful woman with enormous metallic-grey wings growing from her back approached.
“Thanks to you, our caravans’ profits have tripled. But… the Bloodborn seem to have gained even more. That’s not fair.”
Seraphina’s eyes brightened. Those distinctive wings… this had to be the Giantwing Demon chieftain herself—a legendary female powerhouse in the Demon Realm.
Still as dim-witted as the stories claimed, yet she carried an open, straightforward boldness—speaking bluntly without regard for etiquette.
Seraphina’s fingertip lightly traced the rim of her wine glass, her eyes shimmering in the darkness. “Marquis, how about extending your clan’s mining rights in Kantela Canyon for another fifty years?”
The other woman clearly hadn’t expected that reply. Her gaze kept darting sideways, as if looking at someone else.
Such an obvious movement naturally did not escape Seraphina. Following that gaze, she saw a figure gently pressing a hand to her forehead, her expression one of helpless resignation.
From the pair of slender horns and the thin tail swaying behind her, that could only be the chieftain of the Whiplash Demons.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.