Chapter 84: Are You Feeling Lonely?

After the academy competition ended, the daily life of the Rose Knights returned to a peaceful rhythm.

The afterglow of the setting sun filtered through the glass, casting mottled shadows over the long desk covered in paperwork.

Isavel sat behind the desk, focused intently on reviewing the documents, the Feather Pen at her fingertips making a soft rustling sound as it glided across the paper.

Dong dong dong——

A sudden knock sounded at the door. Before Isavel could respond, Teresa came in lightly, carrying a tray.

On the tray sat a steaming pot of tea and a small plate of delicate pastries, the air instantly filling with a faint Lavender fragrance.

“Lady Isavel.” Her voice was gentle, just the right amount of respect in her tone.

“You’ve been working for three hours straight. This is calming scented tea and some freshly made Honey Muffins from the kitchen. Please, take a short break.”

Isavel didn’t even look up, only replied with a faint “Mm.”

Teresa didn’t seem discouraged.

She skillfully set the refreshments down in an empty spot at the corner of the desk, but unlike usual, did not leave right away.

She stood quietly to the side, her gaze falling on a spread-out scroll of Ancient Spell literature.

“Is something the matter?” Isavel finally looked up, her deep black eyes as unreadable as ever.

Teresa immediately pointed to a complex spell in the text, eyes brimming with the desire for knowledge:

“In my recent Magic lessons, I’ve had some doubts about the stable structure of this Ancient Spell. I remember you mentioned during your last explanation…”

It wasn’t any different from before. Teresa’s reason for visiting Isavel’s office was still to listen to her explanations of Magic knowledge.

The only difference was that now, she had moved on from Modern Magic to Ancient Magic.

Isavel glanced at her, and after some explanation, realized Teresa’s eyes were still full of confusion, clearly not understanding.

With a sigh, she finally put down the Feather Pen and said, “Give me your hand.”

Teresa obediently extended her Right Hand, the tips of her fingers faintly glowing with the white light of Magic practice.

Isavel’s cool fingers lightly touched her wrist, a subtle stream of Magic guiding her, helping her simulate the Pathway of Magic Power when constructing an Ancient Spell.

Teresa drew a soft breath, feeling the flow of Isavel’s Magic.

After a long moment, enlightenment and admiration appeared at just the right time on her face.

However, she didn’t immediately pull her hand back.

Instead, with her eyes closed, long lashes trembling, she focused with all her might to feel and memorize the trajectory of that icy Magic.

No one knew how much time passed before she slowly withdrew her hand, her fingertip “unintentionally” brushing across the back of Isavel’s hand—a fleeting touch, so quick it seemed accidental.

“Thank you very much for your guidance, Lady Isavel.”

She bowed deeply, and then, as if suddenly remembering something, produced a neatly organized report from her chest.

“This is the Rose Knights’ Progress Report for the recent period. Everything is recorded inside.”

The report was extremely detailed, far exceeding what would be expected from an “Assistant.”

Isavel accepted the report and quickly flipped through a few pages, a faint hint of surprise flashing through her eyes.

She knew the value of this report all too well.

“Leave it there.” Her tone remained calm, but a note of ease crept in.

In truth, even if Teresa hadn’t recorded the Rose Knights’ progress over the past month, Isavel would have investigated it herself.

After all, this pertained to her Cultivation Plan.

With this, Teresa was rather like a “Secretary.”

“Yes.”

Teresa replied obediently, placing the report gently on the desk.

Having said her piece, she didn’t linger, quietly leaving the study and closing the door behind her.

The study returned to silence, leaving only the faint fragrance of scented tea lingering in the air.

Isavel’s gaze paused for a moment on the neat report and the Honey Muffins.

Then, her fingertip unconsciously stroked the spot on the back of her hand where Teresa had “accidentally” brushed past.

She picked up the Feather Pen again, but—for once—did not immediately lower it.

She didn’t know why, but lately, Teresa had become rather like her maid, Renia. She’d seek her out with or without reason, often bringing tea and food.

It was a comfort to her, exhausted as she was.

Outside the window, the sun finally sank beneath the horizon, and before the last ray of light faded away, it caught on the faintest curve at the corner of Isavel’s lips.

After recalling the warmth of being cared for, a vague sense of regret quickly rose up within her.

She was the Villainous Saint, after all. How could she show such gentle demeanor in front of Teresa?

Even if she was her “Assistant,” she ought to speak harshly to her.

Only hardship and strictness could help her grow quickly!

And yet… in just three months, Teresa had finished most of the Modern Magic curriculum and moved on to Ancient Magic. Was that really slow?

Isavel took a slow sip of the scented tea and quietly shook her head.

She decided that no matter what, she must maintain the dignity of the Villainous Saint!

Outside the study door, Teresa had not left right away.

Leaning against the cold wall, she raised her hand to her still slightly warm wrist, where the cool touch of the Saintess’s Magic seemed to linger.

She closed her eyes, a satisfied smile spreading across her lips.

……

Over the next month, Isavel resumed her Villainous Saint’s bearing, responding to Teresa’s frequent questions with sharp words several times.

Yet soon after, she would catch sight of Teresa crying in various corners.

Her heart softened, so she could only play the role of Selis, seeking Teresa out to comfort her.

She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but whenever she pretended to be Selis, Teresa seemed especially fond of getting handsy with her.

In order to lessen the number of times she had to comfort Teresa, Isavel was forced to stop speaking harshly to her.

Then, she found that Teresa was becoming even bolder.

She even dared to hold the Villainous Saint’s arm now!

That gave Isavel quite a headache.

And not just Teresa. Lately, she’d noticed Nola acting oddly as well.

Ever since she saved the Honorary Duke Nola as Isavel, Nola had been living at the Rose Knights’ Order Headquarters.

She seemed bewitched, investigating the relationship between Isavel and Selis.

How could this be allowed?

If Nola found out the truth, where would Isavel’s face go?

So, after some consideration, she did everything she could to conceal the truth.

In this way, the Rose Knights, under the guidance of the mentors at Mills Academy, passed their last month. Soon after, they set off for the Aos Empire.

At the same time, the Abyssal Seal was weakening, and the Abyssal Magic invading the world grew ever stronger.

Many Dungeons began to experience Beasts riots, and in some places, new Monster Catacombs appeared.

Because of these Dungeons, the human world fell into a preliminary state of chaos.

……

The moonlight was as clear as water, spilling into the quiet chamber through high windows.

Isavel had returned to her Oracle Hall, now seated before a bookshelf, leafing through an Ancient Book, her black hair shimmering coldly under the moonlight.

The door opened silently, and a rich Rose Fragrance drifted in through the crack.

Queen Flandre of the Aos Empire entered, wearing a wine-red Shoulderless Gown, her figure swaying gracefully, the hem of her dress blossoming like a flower.

A lazy yet confident smile played at her lips, her gaze fixing directly on the black silhouette before the bookshelf.

“No wonder I didn’t see you in the Bedroom. So you’re still working this late?”

Flandre walked up behind her, almost pressing against her back.

Her warm breath, intentionally or not, swept past Isavel’s sensitive ear, carrying a hint of temptation.

“It’s been so long since you’ve seen me. Did you miss me, Veil?”

Isavel didn’t turn around. Her fingers turned another page, her voice calm and even. “Go ahead, what do you want?”

Seeing this, Flandre lightly twirled a strand of Isavel’s silver hair around her finger, playing with it.

“You really are as cold as ever. I haven’t seen you in three months, I missed you dearly. Did you miss me?”

This was her usual trick for teasing the Saintess in front of her—using open hints and intimate touches to break her defenses, drawing her into her rhythm.

Although she’d never succeeded, Flandre firmly believed that with enough persistence, she would be rewarded.

At last, Isavel closed her book, slowly turning around. In the moonlight, her face was more exquisite than ever—more enchanting than ever.

She didn’t back away; instead, she stayed close, tilting her head just slightly to look straight into Flandre’s smiling eyes with her bottomless black gaze.

“Are you feeling lonely?”

Flandre froze.

A blush quickly appeared on her pale cheeks, her brows tinged with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“…Veil, it seems I really have spoiled you. To say something so improper to the Queen of the Empire—you’re truly indecent!”

“Hmph, if you insulted the Queen like that in public, you’d be dragged off for Execution by Hanging. But… if it’s you, I’ll forgive you.”

With that, she straightened up and took a glowing Light-infused Jade from her bosom, a mischievous smile on her lips:

“Want to know what this is? If you do, close your eyes.”

Golden hair fell across Isavel’s eyes. In the air, the scent of roses mingled with Lavender, intoxicating and indescribable.

Though she knew Flandre was up to something, Isavel obediently closed her eyes.

The next second, warm, damp breaths brushed her cheek. Soft clouds touched, and Flandre pressed herself onto Isavel, who fell helplessly backward.

Dong——

That was the sound of Isavel being pressed to the floor.

Her black eyes opened, the coolness in their depths gone, replaced by a trace of shyness.

Her long hair and the gown splayed out like flowers, slender white legs landing on the tilted chair, as flawless as White Jade.

For a long time, the clouds clung together, melting into each other. As the wind howled, they were forced apart.

Just then, a golden light fell, and rain drizzled down like threads.

Hands braced perfectly atop the White Rabbit, Flandre looked down at the woman beneath her, cheeks flushed as she smiled slyly. “This time, I’ve finally won a round.”

Isavel touched her lips and, with a light snort, tried to get up, but was pinned by Flandre.

Helpless, she could only keep lying there and said:

“So, what is that in your hand?”

With a snort, Flandre tossed the Jade to Isavel.

“Didn’t you ask me to look into Teresa’s special constitution? This is a Jade left behind by the Goddess. With this, she’ll be able to control the Divine Grace within her to a large extent.”

“In other words, with this, Teresa can suppress or unleash the Divine Grace in her body as needed?” A gleam flashed in Isavel’s deep eyes.

“That’s right.”

“You really have brought me a wonderful gift.”

“So, how will you reward me?”

“A reward?”

Isavel repeated the word, her lips curving into an aggressive arc.

She unleashed her Magic, forcing herself up from the floor.

Flandre instinctively stepped back, her waist pressing against the heavy Redwood Desk—the situation instantly reversed.

“You wear the most gorgeous dress, dab on the most alluring perfume, and come to my room in the middle of the night…”

Isavel’s voice lowered, a softness like a Feather Pen brushing the heart.

“Don’t tell me, this reward is what you came for?”

Her fingertip gently lifted, the cold back of her finger tracing along Flandre’s exposed collarbone.

The touch, cold yet silken, made the pampered Queen Flandre shudder.

“So what if I did?”

“And yet you say you’re not…” Isavel leaned forward, her gaze dropping from Flandre’s parted lips to her nervously rising chest.

With a wicked smile, she pressed a finger to Flandre’s lips. “Not lonely?”

Flandre’s heart skipped, her smile stiffening on her face.

She had imagined Isavel’s “reward,” and even steeled herself to turn the tables, making the Saintess blush beneath her instead.

But when it truly happened, she found all her preparations melting away in an instant.

Her mind blank, she felt as if she’d walked willingly into a trap, wanting to retreat yet having nowhere to go.

Isavel braced both hands on either side of her on the desk, trapping her completely within her embrace.

Black hair fell, interlacing with Flandre’s well-kept gold hair, moonlight outlining the Queen’s near-perfect profile.

The look in her eyes was no longer that of a monarch’s dignity, but rather a young girl’s shyness and affection.

“Flandre, those who play with fire are bound to be consumed by it.”

Isavel lowered her head, lightly nibbling on Flandre’s earlobe, whispering in a voice only the two could hear—a Devil’s whisper. “Are you ready… to get burned?”

Flandre leaned back against the desk, her breath quickening, an uncontrollable blush blooming across her cheeks.

Her long dress was lifted. Looking up at Isavel’s perfect face, so close above, a wave of shivering anticipation swept through her.

A maiden’s shyness told her she ought to flee from the Saintess’s arms, out of the dim study and never look back.

Yet her heart told her she should stay, forever merging with the Saintess as one.

She had come to hunt, but now she realized, with painful clarity, that she was the one being caught, her heartbeat out of control, her composure lost.

Isavel admired the Queen’s flustered appearance, as if gazing at a rare treasure caught in a net.

But when her soft hand advanced further, the Queen at last pushed her away, shrieked, and fled the study.

She didn’t notice, though, that a golden Magic Mark had appeared on her bare back.

Queen Flandre’s departure brought a gust of rose-scented wind, making the study’s lamplight flicker.

Isavel lifted her Right Hand with a smile, gently inhaling the lingering scent.

Then, her jade-like hand clenched, drawing out a strand of black-red aura from the scent Flandre had left behind, falling like a lock of hair into her palm.

This was the Demon’s Aura.

Her gaze sharpened.

It seemed some Demons had taken advantage of the chaos in the Monster Catacomb, escaped the Dungeon, and begun to infiltrate the upper echelons of humanity.