Bjorn smirked. "Any news?"
Wulfric slowly tasted his soup, then set the spoon down. His deep voice cut through the quiet.
"You can stop attempting to seduce me with those pathetic, lowly women. I'm already bored of it."
He sipped nonchalantly, letting the tension thicken. Turning to Vermillion, he asked:
"Do you know why I called you here?"
Vermillion met his gaze evenly. "Your Majesty, perhaps to discuss the upcoming campaign. I expect you want everything perfect, as always."
Wulfric laughed—harsh, humorless. "You always think about war. Don't you ever think of peace?"
Vermillion shifted, uncomfortable under Wulfric's piercing gaze, frozen as if facing a wolf.
"You were the one planning our previous campaign," Wulfric continued, "and you know what happened. And do you know what's funny?"
Vermillion tried to remain composed. "I acknowledge my mistakes in the plan you devised long ago. Even allowing their daughter to escape our wrath. But with my responsibility, I promise: the last descendants of the YueYing clan will be found in three days."
The tension broke for a brief moment. Wulfric and Bjorn shared a laugh at Vermillion's seriousness.
"Oh dear," Bjorn said, wiping tears. "No wonder his students always made fun of him. Too serious when it comes to duty."
He straightened. "Don't worry about fulfilling your promise. The one you're searching for is already with us."
Vermillion blinked, stunned. Wulfric calmly sipped his tea, the ease of it making Vermillion's mind race. The person we've been searching for… just appeared? It seemed absurd.
Wulfric intertwined his fingers, leaning on them. A predator's tension returned to the room.
"I have an offer for you." He stood, cup of wine in hand, and slowly approached Vermillion's table, crouching like a hunter.
"You'll protect your children in the hometown if you accept this," Wulfric whispered, swirling tea before placing the cup down with a clink. "Think of what others will say if they find you helping me rescue hostages—enemies of humanity. They'll see you as a failed father… a traitor."
Vermillion's face remained calm, but his mind raced.
Wulfric straightened with a sly smile, patting Vermillion's shoulder. "Don't overthink. Teaching is your career. You'll find the cleverest way to save your family. Aren't I right?"
"I understand," Vermillion replied, calm but thoughtful. "I'll consider it."
Wulfric's lips curved in a sly grin. "I expect your answer in three days. Think carefully. You may go."
Vermillion bowed and exited, leaving Bjorn absorbed in his book, idly playing with his hair.
"You believe in yourself, I know," Bjorn murmured softly. "But don't be arrogant. You've solved one problem. The hardest one is still ahead."
Wulfric's sly tone returned. "Don't worry. He's not the only pawn in this game. The one I need will appear tomorrow."
"Lady Alice?" Bjorn asked.
"I've sent words to her father. He cannot refuse. Every opportunity matters to him."
The head chef entered with a bashful smile. "Your Majesty, is the dinner to your satisfaction today?"
Wulfric nodded. "Do you have more?"
"Yes! I'll bring more immediately, Your Majesty!"
Wulfric cut him off, setting his tea cup down. "Package it carefully. Stop acting like a coward. Serve with your head held high—or be replaced."
The sous chef, nervous, hurried to prepare the package. Bjorn quietly exited, leaving Wulfric to check the basket and ensure everything was packed properly.
Wulfric walked toward the northern prison under a crescent moon. His shadow stretched long along the stone path. His mind churned with thoughts of her.
"If she learns the truth… she'll never forgive me. The cruelest kindness is protecting her with lies. Let her hate me, if that shields her."
He arrived at the prison entrance. Guards opened the doors, startled by his late visit. Inside, the air was thick with iron, rust, and decay. Candles cast faint shadows along rows of cells. Moans, rattling chains, and screaming echoed through the corridors.
Some prisoners had been there since his father's reign, living in grief and hatred. A faint scratch ran along the stone wall, growing sharper, accompanied by a whisper:
"Is him…"
"Is it him…"
"Long live the king!"
Passing a dark cell, Wulfric noted the stench of decay. An old man lay dead, hand clutching a fork. Tch. Can't even die properly.
A raspy voice called his name—it was Maleya, the witch whose family he had killed.
"Long time, Maleya. Since I took your sister's head," Wulfric said, smirking.
She chuckled. "Still arrogant. Surprised God lets you live. That little rose in your hand won't survive until her third full moon ceremony."
Wulfric's eyes darkened. He gripped the basket tighter.
"Such a delicate flower," she continued, hand gripping the bars. "Where is her tail… Wulfric?"
In a flash, Wulfric grabbed her throat through the fence, slamming her down hard. She laughed, digging into his hand.
"Scared? The fierce king shakes over a prophecy?"
Wulfric grinned. "I hated not finishing you when your family fell. Someone else will do it better than me." He released her, breathing heavily, then walked away. Over his shoulder, he added:
"As for her… under my protection, nothing will harm her—even if she hates me. It's all worth it."
Wulfric opened the specially prepared cell: neat, with a proper bed, table, bathroom, and window. She was nowhere in sight.
Where is she…?
He searched the room: under the bed, in the closet. The restraints lay neatly on the table. Nothing. Then he realized: Only one possibility… up there.
A shadow appeared above him. Yueyao landed on him with a thud, claws out. He hissed, instinctively restraining her hands.
"How the hell did you climb up here?!" he yelled, noting her torn clothes. She was hungry, disoriented, and scared.
He gently seated her, showing his hands in view to ensure safety. Slowly, he opened the basket, placing food in front of her. He patted his lap, coaxing her to sit.
"Will you stay hungry like that?" he asked softly.
Yueyao's ears folded down, wary. "How do I know this isn't poisoned? Poppy extract? Snake venom?"
The scent of peach blossom cake reached her. She still resisted, but slowly sampled the food, eyes lighting up with the sweet green apple pudding. Wulfric hid a small smile behind his napkin.
"What do you know about my mom? Where is she?" Yueyao asked, worried.
"Just eat," he said, nudging the soup. "You don't want to waste this before I tell you the truth."
Her leg throbbed. "What happened to your leg?" he asked, neutral.
"The trader stomped on it. The nurse said it's healing," she replied, biting the spoon to suppress nausea.
Wulfric's eyes turned cold. He leaned over, arms crossed. "Then his death… was worth it, don't you think?"
She continued eating, still processing the horrors she'd endured in the desert. Wulfric watched, aware she had survived thanks to his personal detective.
When she finally finished, he cleared his throat. "Who… are you?"