Chapter Sixty-One: The Madman

"I..." The First Prince felt as if a blaze had surged straight to his forehead, incinerating what little remained of his rationality.

"I don't want to have anything to do with you lunatics anymore! Leave this place now! Get out of here and never come back!"

"Does Your Highness not wish to become king?" The alluring woman remained seated on the sofa, tilting her head slightly, her gaze upon him as if he were a fool.

"And at this point, do you really think you can turn back? Even if we all withdraw from the capital now, do you believe you could escape the scrutiny of every faction?"

"Get out! Get out of here right now!" The First Prince pointed toward the door, his pale face twisted in fury.

He no longer harbored any hope for these madmen. Continuing this game with them would only lead to his demise.

These cultists were indeed as legend described—utterly incomprehensible to normal minds. Despite repeated warnings, they remained oblivious, indifferent to the enigmatic Grand Duke of the Eastern Lands.

No matter what he did, this crazed woman ignored it all, living entirely within her own world, blind to the changes outside.

"It's all your fault, you wretched whore! Useless beyond measure, always babbling about some script, but none of your scripts have ever worked!"

The moment his words fell, the room's temperature plummeted to freezing. The prince's expression froze, his intended curses lodged in his throat.

It was as if invisible hands in the darkness had seized his neck, ready to snap it at any moment.

The alluring woman on the sofa grew monstrous, her eyes glowing a terrifying red as she rasped, "My script cannot fail. This is the flawless story I have crafted for decades! The so-called Grand Duke of the East is nothing but a phantom, a figure who does not exist in this world, incapable of disrupting a script that has played out for centuries! No one can question what I have written!"

In the next instant, her monstrous visage vanished, replaced once more by calm, as if she had changed masks.

She lifted her glass and sipped elegantly, her expression serene as she said, "Your Highness, please refrain from such rude remarks, or I might become truly angry."

"And you must recognize your current identity. You are the First Prince of the Kingdom of Dawn, a perfect heir who should have inherited the throne, but whose birthright was stolen by two gifted sisters. You are merely a character in the script, a most unqualified actor. I am the author. You have no right to criticize me. If not for the need to avoid detection by the Sword of Dawn, do you think I would let such a foolish, disruptive actor continue to wear this skin and identity?"

To her, the First Prince of this final chapter was the most witless actor in history. He had failed to become the gentle, caring prince for all his siblings, as the script demanded.

Truly, foolish mortals could never perform to her standards.

"Madwoman!" the prince snarled through gritted teeth.

Now he understood: this madwoman was utterly unreachable. She lived in a world of her own, uncaring of what transpired outside.

A complete lunatic!

The alluring woman ignored him and continued, "I'll say it again: act according to my script, and you will ultimately ascend the throne. All you need to do now is stay put, wait for Irene to seize the crown, and watch as she clashes with the other noble houses."

"Candidates three, four, five, six, seven, and eight will all be slain by the rebellious princess. The Church of Holy Light will seize this as a pretext to intervene in the royal selection. The kingdom's knight order and all factions will erupt in fierce battle within the capital, countless souls lost in the ensuing chaos. The ridiculed commoner princess remains foolish, dreaming of protecting the people single-handedly, which leads to the death of her only friend. And the true culprit behind it all is the very people she sought to protect..."

"She will kneel beside the elf's corpse, torrential rain washing away the blood of her sins, and the kindness she once possessed will be crushed to dust! ...Ha, ha, ha! The naive princess, using her innocence to shield the weak, only to receive their most venomous betrayal! Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

"She will despair, she will go mad, she will slaughter, she will die, and He will awaken..."

Maniacal laughter echoed through the room, distorting the air with chaos and madness.

"Madwoman!" The prince could no longer contain his terror; he spun and fled toward the door.

"I'd rather die than cooperate with you! No! I'll report you right now!"

He seized the golden handle, the door opened with a click, and the light outside seemed to confirm the hope he saw.

Beyond the door stood his steward and knightly guards.

"Your Highness," they bowed in salute as he emerged.

"Is breakfast ready?"

"It has been prepared, Your Highness. Will you dine now?"

"Yes."

The First Prince took his seat in the spacious and luxurious dining hall, the long table laden with all manner of delicious fare.

He ate his breakfast with unhurried elegance, every motion refined.

...

Eastern quarter of the capital, Xuanlu Temporary Embassy.

In the courtyard, Olina—having just finished her daily sword practice—looked blankly at her friend, who was now holding up a pure white long dress.

"Emeya, why are you carrying a dress?" Olina asked.

Emeya replied matter-of-factly, "Obviously, I'm preparing for tonight's ball."

"The ball? You're going to wear this?" Olina's expression was surprised.

After all, her friend was much like herself, never bothering to dress up, always wearing the same style of clothes.

And that dress—the bust was clearly designed too large; Emeya wouldn't fit it properly.

"It's for you," Emeya shot her a glance. "You idiot, were you planning to wear that ragged outfit tonight?"

Her battered armor, though polished clean, was covered in scratches and looked just like those worn by monster hunters—low-tier monster hunters, at that.

If she showed up at the ball in such rusty junk, she'd probably be thrown out on the spot.

"Huh? Is that not allowed?" Olina tilted her head, her delicate features puzzled.

Balls didn't strictly forbid armor, did they? She was going for the food, not to dance, so what was the point of dressing up?

Surely no one attended balls just to dance?

"You..." Emeya couldn't help but cover her face, then grabbed Olina's right hand and pulled her outside.

"There's no point explaining. You're wearing this dress tonight, or else Qin Le will be snatched away by those flashy harpies."

"Huh?" Olina was completely bewildered, her eyes full of confusion, unable to grasp what her friend was talking about.

"You still don't get it? If some little vixen cozies up to Qin Le at the party and keeps whispering sweet nothings, he might stop supporting you," Emeya said, growing agitated. "And then I won't make any money! No gold!"

"So that's it," Olina sighed in relief, taking Emeya's hand in return, her expression solemn. "I trust Qin Le isn't that sort of person. What binds us isn't flesh, but conviction."

"Ha! You may trust Qin Le, but you can't trust the worm below his belt," Emeya retorted, utterly unconvinced.

She recalled that night—two naked twin maids on Qin Le's bed.

"Just listen to me tonight. Wear this dress I picked out for you, and you'll outshine all those gaudy hussies. Then Qin Le will still be my hapless benefactor."