Cold sweat beaded on Seraphina's temples as she sat cross-legged on the stone floor of her father's secret room. The night was late, and only the dim glow of a mana lamp illuminated the cramped space. Before her, an ancient silver mirror reflected the image of a girl who appeared fragile, yet possessed a pair of blue eyes that radiated the intensity of a predator.
"Focus, Rei," she whispered to herself.
Since her brief training session with Alaric at the tower ruins, Sera realized that her power was not merely magic, but a manifestation of emotion and the history of the Argentos bloodline. If she wanted to survive the imperial banquet the day after tomorrow, she couldn't rely on luck. She had to tame the monster residing within her veins.
She began to regulate her breathing, using a meditative technique she had mastered as an assassin squad leader. Inhale deeply, hold it at the solar plexus, and release slowly. She imagined her bloodstream not as a red liquid, but as a calm yet high-pressure black river.
"Manifest," she commanded softly.
Instantly, the sapphire at her neck glowed a dark violet. From her fingertips, a black mist began to creep out. Initially, the mist moved wildly, attempting to devour the surrounding air. Sera felt a bone-chilling coldness, as if death itself were trying to pull her back into the darkness. Her heart began to beat erratically.
Don't fight it. Follow the flow.
Alaric's voice echoed in her head. Sera no longer tried to suppress the mist back into her body. Instead, she imagined the mist as an extension of her nerves. She attempted to direct the black fog to envelop an empty flower vase in the corner of the room.
The mist moved, slow but certain. As it touched the ceramic vase, a faint cracking sound followed. Within seconds, the vase crumbled into fine dust before it could even hit the floor. Sera gasped. If this hit a human, they wouldn't even have time to scream.
However, the pain returned. A burning heat surged from her solar plexus to her throat. Sera choked on a cough, thick red blood dripping onto the marble floor. The sapphire at her neck felt scalding, nearly searing her skin.
"Damn... this truly drains one's life," she cursed, wiping the blood from her lips.
She looked into the mirror. Her silver hair seemed a bit duller, and the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced. The legends were true: the Ghost Aura was a power that traded lifespan for destruction. Every second she utilized this power, she was shortening her future in this world.
Suddenly, Sera's sharp ears caught the sound of faint footsteps from behind the secret door. With lightning speed, she covered the bloodstains on the floor with the dust from the destroyed vase and concealed her face with a thin veil.
The secret door slid open. It wasn't Alaric who appeared, but Sir Kael. Her late father's loyal aide entered with a hobbled gait, his left leg permanently damaged from the war. His scarred face was etched with anxiety.
"Lady Seraphina? You are still awake?" Kael asked, his voice hoarse.
"I was just reflecting, Sir Kael. It is hard to sleep in a house this silent," Sera replied, reverting to 'Mourning Daughter' mode.
Kael looked at the dust on the floor, then at the missing vase. His sharp eyes caught the lingering traces of black mist fading in the air. The old man stood silent for a long time before finally kneeling before Sera.
"You have awakened it," Kael whispered, his voice trembling between fear and pride. "The power that kept Duke Frederick awake at night. A power that was never supposed to fall into the hands of a woman."
Sera stood up, discarding her veil. She had no need to pretend in front of Kael. "Woman or man makes no difference to death, Sir Kael. Our enemies will not stop just because I am weak. If this power is the only way to avenge the blood of my father and brothers, then I will drink it to the dregs."
Kael looked at Sera with a new gaze. In the eyes of this eighteen-year-old girl, he no longer saw the pampered Seraphina. He saw the shadow of the Great General, but with something darker and sharper behind it.
"My Lady, that power is difficult to control because it is fueled by rage. Your father spent years searching for a cure, but all he found was that sapphire," Kael pointed to the gem at her neck. "But there is one secret he didn't have the chance to tell you. This power is not just for destruction. It can be used to see."
"To see?" Sera frowned.
"The Argentos family was dubbed the Guardians of the North not just for their courage, but for their ability to detect killing intent before an enemy even draws their sword. If you can merge the ghost aura with your instincts, there is no traitor in this world who can hide from you."
Sera was stunned. This was invaluable information for an assassin. In her old world, she relied on radar and experience. Here, she could possess a supernatural sixth sense.
The following morning, the Argentos pavilion received an uninvited guest. A senior maid from the palace, escorted by two polished Iron Guard soldiers, brought a large box wrapped in red velvet.
"Lady Seraphina, Her Majesty Empress Isabella sends a gift for you," the maid said with a haughty tone. "This is a special silk gown to be worn at tomorrow night's banquet. She wishes for you to look your most beautiful as a symbol of Argentos' fortitude."
Sera glanced toward Alaric, who stood in the corner of the room as a shadow guard. Alaric gave a subtle nod—a code confirming his warning from the night before.
Sera approached the box, her fingers brushing the soft silk surface. For a moment, she used the technique she had just learned: she channeled a tiny amount of her ghost aura into her fingertips, not to destroy, but to sense.
Sure enough. Beneath the pungent aroma of rose perfume, she felt a strange and unstable vibration of energy. There was a magical residue of Mandrake—a plant known to trigger hysteria and madness when in prolonged contact with human body heat.
How cunning, Isabella, Sera thought.
If she wore this gown in the heat of a dance, she would begin screaming like a madwoman or attacking those around her. Before the nobles and foreign ambassadors, her reputation would be ruined forever, and she would be deemed mentally "tainted," unfit to lead the Northern territories.
"Convey my deepest thanks to Her Majesty," Sera smiled sweetly—the kind of smile that made Alaric shudder slightly. "This gown is truly magnificent. I will ensure it receives the attention it deserves."
After the palace envoys left, Sera summoned Elara.
"My Lady? What shall we do with this poisoned gown?" Elara asked, her face tense.
"Elara, didn't Princess Clarissa just complain that her tailor hasn't finished her ball gown?" Sera walked toward her writing desk. "And doesn't she simply adore maroon red, just like this silk?"
Elara covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes widening. "My Lady... you mean..."
"Princess Clarissa is the Empress's favorite. If she wears this gown and has an 'incident' in front of the Emperor, the Empress can blame no one but her own tailor. And as the poor, grieving victim, I will send this gown as a 'peace offering' because I feel too weak to attend the banquet in such grand attire."
Sera wrote a letter in an extremely humble tone, filled with words of insecurity and her desire to see Clarissa shine.
"Send this immediately. Ensure no one sees you entering Clarissa's residence through the back entrance."
Alaric stepped out from the shadows after Elara left. "You truly are a devil, Sera. Clarissa is arrogant, but she isn't nearly as smart as her mother. She will wear that gown just to gloat over you."
"It's called efficiency, Alaric," Sera replied while sipping her tea. "I don't need to kill my enemies if they can destroy each other. Now, help me choose something more... simple. Something black."
"Black? For an imperial ball?"
"Yes. Because tomorrow night, I am not coming to dance. I am coming to mourn the future of the Valdemar dynasty."
Alaric stared at the girl for a long time, a thin smile appearing on his usually stoic face. "Sometimes I forget you are just a young girl. You have a way of thinking that is far darker than the most ruthless mercenaries on the border."
"That is a lovely compliment, Grand Duke," Sera stood, her aura now calm yet menacing. "Prepare yourself. Tomorrow night, when Clarissa begins to lose her mind, that is your cue to secure the escape route on the rear balcony. We need to speak with the Abyss informant regarding Count Malphas's position."
Sera walked toward the window, gazing at the magnificent central palace that was filled with rotten secrets. She could feel her ghost aura pulsing, waiting to be unleashed. She was no longer Rei, the assassin who died in a dark alley. She was Seraphina von Argentos, and tomorrow night would be the beginning of a symphony of destruction she had meticulously composed.
"The chessboard is set," she whispered to the night wind. "Now, let us see who falls first."