The council chamber had not fully recovered from the mention of black witches when another issue rose like smoke from beneath polished marble.
Ravon had not yet left his place when a tall nobleman stepped forward, robes rustling sharply.
"There is another matter, Your Majesty."
The King did not sit back down.
"Speak."
The nobleman bowed his head briefly. "The northern provinces have begun withholding tax shipments."
A ripple of tension passed through the council.
"Withholding?" the silver-haired councilwoman repeated sharply. "On what grounds?"
"They claim increased monster activity," he replied carefully. "They request additional military protection before continuing tribute."
Neria floated between them, eyes wide. "Ohhh. Political blackmail. I know this game."
Another councilor scoffed. "Convenient timing. First witches. Now unpaid taxes."
The King's gaze hardened. "Do they accuse the crown of negligence?"
"They imply it."
The temperature in the room shifted.
Neria glanced at Ravon.
He hadn't moved.
But something in his posture sharpened.
"Say it plainly," Ravon said.
The nobleman swallowed. "They suggest the council has grown… complacent."
A murmur swept through the hall.
Neria raised an invisible brow. "Oh, they didn't."
The King exhaled slowly. "And who leads this complaint?"
"Duke Arman of the North."
At that name, a few council members exchanged looks.
Ravon finally stepped forward.
"Armand does not act without calculation."
The King looked at him. "You suspect orchestration?"
"I suspect opportunity," Ravon replied. "Witch rumors create instability. Instability weakens trust. Weak trust invites rebellion."
Silence fell.
Neria tilted her head. "So while dark witches are causing chaos, some duke wants to test the throne? Bold."
The silver-haired councilwoman frowned. "If we send troops north, we thin the capital's defenses."
"If we do nothing," another countered, "we risk open dissent."
The King paced slowly down the steps of his throne.
"Lord Ravon," he said quietly, "your assessment."
Ravon did not hesitate. "Send a limited detachment. Enough to appear responsive.
Not enough to weaken us."
"And the duke?"
"Invite him to court."
A few gasps followed.
"You would bring a potential rebel here?" someone asked sharply.
Ravon's expression did not change.
"Let him stand beneath this ceiling," he said calmly. "Let him see what he challenges."
Neria grinned. "Oh, that's intimidation strategy. I like him when he does politics."
The King's lips curved faintly. "Very well. A measured response."
He turned to the council. "Prepare the summons. And ensure word of our swift action spreads."
The session gradually dissolved after that voices lowering, alliances reforming in murmured exchanges.
Neria floated beside Ravon as he turned to leave.
"You really don't waste time, do you?" she muttered. "Witches underground in the morning. Political chess by noon."
He walked through the palace corridors with the same cool efficiency.
Servants bowed. Guards straightened.
He acknowledged none beyond what courtesy required.
The carriage rolled smoothly across the stone roads of Eldoria.
Neria floated inside with him, unusually quiet.
She didn't know when it started.
But she felt… strange.
A hollow sensation.
Not pain.
Not weakness.
Just… hunger.
"That's ridiculous," she muttered to herself. "Ghosts don't eat."
Yet the feeling persisted.
It wasn't like missing food.
It was deeper.
Like something inside her was fading.
Ravon sat across from her, eyes half-lidded in thought, one gloved finger tapping lightly against the armrest.
"You know," she sighed, leaning toward him though he couldn't hear, "if I could eat, I'd want something simple right now. Rice. Fried chicken. Ice cream."
Her expression softened briefly at the thought.
Ice cream.
Mira.
Country Z.
The memory stung.
She hugged herself.
"I shouldn't have gone out that day…"
The carriage slowed as it approached the estate.
The gates opened.
Neria straightened.
The hunger sensation intensified.
And something else....
A pull.
Not magical.
Not forceful.
Just curiosity.
The carriage stopped.
Ravon exited first, cloak shifting in the breeze.
Neria drifted out after him, distracted.
That was when she saw her.
Madam Elin.
The head housekeeper stood near the side gardens, posture poised as always.
But she was not alone.
Beside her stood a young girl Neria had never seen before.
Perhaps sixteen. Maybe seventeen.
Delicate features. Dark braided hair. Wide eyes that darted nervously.
Neria slowed.
"…Who is that?"
Madam Elin leaned closer to the girl, voice low.
"You must be careful," Elin said softly. "You cannot wander where you please."
"I—I'm sorry," the girl whispered.
Her accent was unfamiliar.
Ravon walked past without glancing their way.
Neria lingered.
Something felt off.
Elin's hand reached up.....brushing gently against the girl's cheek.
Not reprimanding.
Not formal.
Tender.
"You are not safe yet," Elin murmured. "Do you understand?"
The girl nodded faintly.
Elin's fingers lingered.
Too long.
Neria's brows furrowed.
"…Okay."
The girl's hand trembled before rising, hesitating then lightly gripping Elin's sleeve.
"Will he find out?" she whispered.
Elin's expression shifted.
For the first time, the composed housekeeper looked vulnerable.
"No," she said firmly. "Not if you trust me."
Trust.
Neria drifted closer, heart pounding though she had none.
Elin's hand slid from the girl's cheek to her shoulder.
Then pulled her closer.
The gesture was intimate,protective, but more than that.
The girl leaned into her.
Not like servant and mistress.
Like something secret.
"You are under my protection," Elin whispered near her ear. "No one will take you from me."
The girl's fingers tightened in Elin's clothing.
"I was so scared," she admitted softly.
Elin exhaled slowly.
"I know."
Their foreheads nearly touched.
The air between them thickened.
Neria's eyes widened.
"…Oh."
This wasn't discipline.
This wasn't mentorship.
This was something else entirely.
Elin brushed her thumb across the girl's lower lip, gentle, lingering.
The girl shivered.
"Elin…" she breathed.
Neria gasped.
"Madam Elin has an hobby?"
Footsteps sounded in the distance.
Elin pulled back immediately, composure snapping back into place like a mask.
"You must return inside," she said coolly now.
"Use the west corridor."
The girl nodded and slipped away quietly.
Elin remained still for several seconds.
Then she turned....
And for a moment....
Her eyes passed directly through Neria.
Neria froze.
Her glow flickered faintly.
"…Did she…"
Elin's gaze lingered a heartbeat too long before she turned away and walked back toward the main entrance.
Neria hovered there alone.
Her mind racing.
"That girl," she whispered. "She said 'Will he find out?'"
Find out what?
And why hide her here?
Her strange hunger pulsed again.
Stronger.
And suddenly...
It wasn't food she craved.
It was answers.