Later that night, as I stood upon the balcony, gazing down at the glittering city, I whispered:"Soon…"
Far below, Evelyne whispered the same."Soon…"
The night air was sharp, crisp enough to bite, but it felt like nothing against the fire curling in my chest. My hand gripped the cold iron railing until my knuckles blanched white. Each flickering lantern light down in the streets was a spark. Each laughing voice in the noble quarters a drumbeat of the world I would burn.
Behind me, the estate slept. Fat and complacent.
Good, I thought, my lips curling.Let them dream of golden futures while I sharpened my knives in the dark.
In the far side of the city, Evelyne's carriage rattled over uneven stones, its windows drawn with thick velvet curtains.
Inside, Evelyne sat perfectly still, but her pulse thundered in her ears. Her heart raced not from fear — no, fear had long been burned out of her — but from the electric anticipation buzzing through her veins.
Tonight was her first step.Tonight, she would no longer be the pretty doll shuffled from court to court.She would carve her own place in this rotten world.
Her maid, Rosa, sat across from her. A loyal girl, plucked from the streets and raised in Evelyne's shadow. She glanced at her mistress now with wary eyes."Milady, are you sure…? This Phoenix Society… they say it's dangerous."
Evelyne smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes."All power is dangerous, Rosa. But I would rather grasp the flame and burn, than stay in the dark and rot."
Rosa lowered her head. "Yes, milady."
The carriage jolted to a stop.
They had arrived.
Meanwhile, back at the estate, I was moving through the old servant corridors again.Gregor and the others waited in the abandoned wine cellar — my growing nest of snakes.
"You called us here late, boy," Gregor grunted, arms crossed. The faded scar on his jaw twitched. "This better not be another of your games."
I stepped into the lantern light, letting them see my face fully. No smiles. No pretense. Only cold, earnest fire.
"Do you know why they call me a villain?" I asked quietly.
Silence.
"Because I refused to kneel. Because I dared to fight back when they came for my blood. And now they will come for all of us — one by one — until we are nothing but whispers and bones. Unless we strike first."
My gaze swept over them.
"I won't promise you gold. I won't promise you titles. But I will promise you this: revenge. A chance to carve out a place that no noble, no hero, no self-righteous bastard can take from you."
Gregor's eyes narrowed. "And you think you can give us that? A half-dead, disgraced heir?"
I stepped closer, voice dropping to a hiss."I've already begun. And soon, even the highest lords will choke on the blood of their own sins."
Gregor stared for a long beat… then grinned. A broken, savage thing."Fine. I'll bite. But if you fail, boy — I'll put you in the ground myself."
"Deal," I said, baring my teeth.Because in this new world I was building, only monsters would survive.
In the hidden chambers beneath a crumbling theater, Evelyne stepped into the heart of her own storm.
The Phoenix Society was no grand hall. It was candlelit, smoky, and buzzing with tension. Dozens of noble daughters gathered here — some barely more than girls, others hardened by the cruelties of noble life.
At the center stood Lady Mireille, tall and sharp-eyed, her crimson dress a statement of defiance in a world of pastel courtiers.
Her gaze landed on Evelyne like a dagger."So. The little Astera flower comes to bloom among thorns."
Evelyne dipped her head, her smile thin. "I have no love for flowers anymore, Lady Mireille. Only thorns."
A ripple of laughter and approval stirred among the gathered girls.
Mireille's lips curled upward. "Good. Because here, we tear down the old to make way for the new. Are you ready to bleed for it?"
"More than ready," Evelyne whispered.Her fingers brushed against the hidden signet ring beneath her sleeve — a silent vow.This time, I will not be crushed. I will be the one who crushes.
Back at the estate, my second recruit arrived.
Selene.Once a lady's maid, now a thief and poisoner, blamed for crimes she never committed.
She stepped into the cellar with the grace of a predator, her eyes like slits of polished onyx.
"So, it's true," she purred, voice like silk and venom. "The little villain heir is building an army."
"Not an army," I corrected. "A family. One bound by scars and grudges, not by blood."
Her smile widened. "I like that. Blood is overrated anyway."
Far across the city, Evelyne raised a glass of dark wine."To the fall of false heroes," she declared."And to the rise of those they once trampled."
The girls cheered, the air thick with ambition and wrath.
But in the back of her mind, Evelyne felt a cold shiver.Because even as she built her power, she couldn't shake the memory of Leonhart's gaze earlier that day.
Too sharp. Too knowing.Is he…? No. He couldn't be.
But still, the doubt gnawed at her.
And in the shadows of the estate, I finalized my plan.
Tomorrow, I would move my pawns.Tomorrow, I would begin sabotaging the noble houses from within. A whisper here, a forged letter there.Small cracks at first.But enough small cracks will topple even the mightiest pillars.
And when they fell, I would stand atop their ruins.No longer the villain they scorned.
But the architect of their end.
As midnight tolled, two figures — separated by distance but bound by fate — stood in their respective sanctuaries.
Evelyne, in the flickering candlelight of rebellion, her heart racing with dark hope.Me, in the cold cellar surrounded by my growing band of outcasts, every heartbeat a drumbeat of war.
Neither knowing that the other was also awakening.Neither realizing that their collision would be inevitable.
Above, the city slumbered, oblivious to the storm gathering beneath its gilded streets.
But soon…
Soon, they would all wake to find their world burning.