The night of the grand banquet at the Solar Palace arrived with a stifling opulence. Gilded carriages queued before the main gates, carrying nobles adorned in their most brilliant jewels and their most hollow smiles. Amidst the frenzy, a simple black carriage bearing the Argentos crest—a howling silver wolf—pulled up directly at the red carpet.
The door opened, and Alaric von Xerxes stepped out first. Clad in a black military uniform with medals of valor lining his chest, he radiated a palpable aura of intimidation. However, the atmosphere shifted instantly when he reached back into the carriage to assist someone down.
Seraphina stepped out.
Whispers spread among the guests like wildfire on dry straw. Sera wore a gown of deep black velvet, devoid of excessive ornamentation—a stark contrast to the colorful gowns dominating the floor. Her face had been applied with a thin layer of makeup to appear deathly pale, with a faint flush beneath her eyes that suggested she had only just stopped weeping. Her hand, encased in a black lace glove, trembled slightly as she gripped Alaric's arm.
"Look at her... the last Argentos daughter. She looks like she'll collapse at any moment," Baroness Clara whispered behind her silk fan.
"Poor thing. Losing her entire family in one night must have shattered her fragile soul," another replied, her tone carrying more mockery than sympathy.
Sera kept her head bowed, allowing her silver bangs to partially obscure her eyes. Behind the "traumatized princess" act, her brain worked like a scanning machine. She counted the guards at every corner, noted who was whispering to whom, and searched for her primary targets.
"Breathe, Sera. You're doing a magnificent job," Alaric whispered in her ear, his voice so low only she could hear.
"I'm currently calculating how many seconds it would take to snap that guard's neck at the door if things go south," Sera replied flatly, maintaining her pitiful expression.
Alaric nearly let out a snort of amusement, but he managed to maintain his stoic 'Prince of Blood' facade. They entered the main hall, illuminated by thousands of mana candles. At the far end, seated upon a high throne, Emperor Valdemar smiled broadly at their arrival. Beside him, Empress Isabella appeared elegant, though her eyes flashed with pure disdain as they landed on Sera.
"Lady Seraphina von Argentos," the herald's voice echoed throughout the hall.
Sera stepped forward, her gait intentionally unsteady. As she curtsied before the Emperor, she ensured her voice sounded small and wavering. "I greet the Sun of the Empire, Your Majesty. Please forgive my inability to appear with vigor. This grief... is still too heavy."
Emperor Valdemar nodded with feigned concern. "Rise, little Princess. We all mourn the loss of Duke Frederick. The Empire has lost its finest blade. However, seeing you here proves the Argentos spirit is not entirely extinguished."
The spirit isn't extinguished? You're the one who drowned it in blood, old man, Sera thought coldly.
"Thank you for your benevolence, Your Majesty," Sera replied, while subtly glancing toward Princess Clarissa standing near her mother.
Clarissa looked stunning... in the maroon gown Sera had provided. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating the princess's every curve. Isabella looked on with pride, believing she had successfully pawned off a "cursed gown" onto Sera, when the reality was quite the opposite.
"Princess Clarissa, that gown is breathtaking," Sera greeted her softly. "That color truly brings out your beauty."
Clarissa looked up haughtily. "Of course. Not everyone can wear fabric of this caliber, Seraphina. You are better suited for your black mourning rags."
Sera merely offered a thin, submissive smile—the kind that fueled Clarissa's sense of superiority. Sera knew that within the fibers of that maroon silk, the Mandrake powder was beginning to warm as Clarissa's body temperature rose from pride and the party's excitement.
The dancing began. As planned, Alaric approached Clarissa for the first dance. It was a rare sight, given that Alaric usually refused to interact with anyone. Clarissa, who had long harbored feelings for Alaric, accepted with a greedy glint in her eyes.
Sera chose to sit in a corner, holding a glass of mineral water (she touched no wine tonight). From her vantage point, she saw General Silas standing near a row of foreign ambassadors. Silas appeared to be discussing something grave with Count Malphas.
Now, Sera thought.
She channeled a sliver of Ghost Aura into her fingertips, then touched it to her silk handkerchief. She dropped the cloth just as a servant passed by. With a seemingly clumsy motion, she bent down to retrieve it, but intentionally bumped into a small side table, sending water splashing toward General Silas.
"Oh! Forgive me, General! I am so terribly clumsy!" Sera let out a small shriek, her face contorted in fear.
Silas, in his usual arrogant mood, looked at Sera with disgust. "Were you not taught basic etiquette, Argentos? You've soiled my Western Cavalry cloak!"
"I am so sorry, let me clean it!" Sera rushed forward with her handkerchief, dabbing at Silas's cloak.
In that brief chaos, Sera's trained hands moved faster than the human eye could follow. She slipped the forged envelope she had prepared into Silas's inner pocket, and simultaneously lifted a small key hanging from the general's belt—the key to the temporary military archives Silas had brought to the Capital.
"Enough! Get out of my sight before I lose my patience!" Silas barked.
Sera retreated, her body trembling, fake tears welling in her eyes. "I... I beg your leave."
She walked away, retreating back into the shadows. The moment she turned her back, her expression of fear vanished instantly, replaced by the satisfied gaze of a predator. The key was now tucked safely within her sleeve.
Suddenly, a scream erupted from the center of the dance floor.
Sera turned. The tranquil party dissolved into chaos. Princess Clarissa, who had been dancing gracefully with Alaric, suddenly shoved him back with enough force to make him stumble. The princess's face was flushed crimson, the veins in her neck bulging.
"All of you! Why are you staring at me like that?! You're jealous, aren't you?! You all want me dead!" Clarissa screamed hoarsely. She began clawing at the lace on her chest, her breathing ragged.
The Mandrake effect had reached its peak. The heat from the dancing and Clarissa's heightened emotions triggered the toxin to attack her central nervous system.
Empress Isabella stood up in a panic. "Clarissa! What are you doing?! Guards! Secure the princess!"
But Clarissa grew more hysterical. She snatched a fruit knife from a nearby table and swung it wildly toward the ambassadors. "You're spies! My father will slaughter you all!"
In the midst of the panic, Alaric executed the second part of Sera's plan. While everyone focused on Clarissa, he moved toward General Silas, who was trying to distance himself from the princess's rampage. Alaric intentionally collided with Silas with immense force, sending the general sprawling.
"General Silas! Watch out!" Alaric shouted loudly to draw maximum attention.
As he helped Silas up, Alaric deliberately snagged the envelope Sera had planted, letting it fall to the floor right in front of the feet of the terrified Southern Kingdom ambassador.
The ambassador, hearing his nation mentioned by the mad Clarissa, immediately snatched the envelope. He saw General Silas's private seal and the bold title: "Mana Crystal Sabotage Plan and Southern Secret Alliance."
"What is this?!" the ambassador roared, his face turning pale. "General Silas, you are plotting treason with our country to take down the Northern Grand Duke?!"
The hall suddenly fell deathly silent, save for the sounds of Clarissa groaning as she was restrained by guards. Emperor Valdemar's gaze shifted from his mad daughter to General Silas, who looked bewildered and deathly pale.
"Silas... what is the meaning of this?" the Emperor's voice was low and lethal.
"This is a frame-up! Your Majesty, I have never seen those documents!" Silas screamed, but even he didn't know how they had appeared in his cloak.
Sera, standing behind a pillar, watched the scene with profound satisfaction. An imperial princess's public descent into madness and a high treason charge against the strongest cavalry general. Isabella's reputation and Silas's faction were destroyed in a single night.
She glanced at Alaric. He caught her eye from across the room, giving a subtle look that meant: Operation complete.
However, amidst her victory, Sera felt a strange throb in her veins. Her Ghost Aura surged, as if responding to the negative energy filling the room. She clutched her chest, trying to regulate her breathing. The familiar pain began to creep in.
Not now... not here, she thought.
Sera immediately turned toward the balcony exit, intending to find fresh air before her body suffered a severe physical reaction. However, her steps faltered when she felt the presence of someone standing in the shadows of the outer corridor.
A man wearing a grey cloak and a silver mask. The figure did not move, merely staring at her with an intensity that made the hair on Sera's neck stand up.
"The Phantom... or should I call you Lady Seraphina?" the man's voice was cold and echoing, as if coming from deep within a cavern.
Sera immediately reached for the hidden dagger at her waist. "Who are you?"
The man let out a dry, hollow laugh. "I am the one who saw you kill your targets in a distant world, Rei. And I am the one who ensured your family would never return."
Sera's eyes widened. Black aura exploded from her body, no longer able to be contained. Darkness engulfed the corridor, the temperature dropping so sharply that the water in a nearby fountain froze instantly.
"You..." Sera growled, her voice dropping into a low, commanding tone, a far cry from the sickly girl she had just portrayed. "You are the assassin who led the attack on my home."
"Welcome to the real game, Phantom," the man vanished into the darkness just as Alaric appeared at the end of the corridor.
"Sera! What happened?!" Alaric ran over, seeing the black mist still clinging to her.
Sera fell to her knees, blood beginning to drip from her nose. She stared at the spot where the man had vanished with a burning rage. "Alaric... he is here. The man who slaughtered my mother... he was just here."
Inside the hall, the political chaos raged on, but for Sera, the true war had just begun. She was no longer just manipulating information; she was now facing a shadow from her past that had somehow chased her into this world.
"Take me away from here, Alaric," Sera whispered before her consciousness began to fade from the overwhelming pressure of the Ghost Aura. "Before I level this entire palace."
Alaric scooped Sera's fragile form into his arms, staring into the darkness she had pointed to with a hardened jaw. The night that was supposed to be a tactical victory had ended with a revelation far darker and more dangerous. The strategy had been executed, but the real enemy was far closer than they had ever imagined.