Night quietly descended, and the bright moonlight spilled down from the sky, illuminating part of the land.
By this time, most of the common people had already gone to sleep—even in the royal capital, Yeluvia, a great city where the streets remained lit through the night by magic lamps—those who were still active at this hour were few and far between.
And the King of Jinas, Hendrick Jinas, happened to be one of them.
At this very moment, the most exalted figure in the Kingdom of Jinas was reading through a parchment inside the royal palace's throne room throughout the night, with the chandelier's light illuminating the entire room without ever dimming.
On that parchment were reports he studied so intently, listed out one by one.
They were records that the court magicians had painstakingly deciphered in recent days, working without rest, from the remnants of the ancient magic civilization.
Recently, the Mavros family had discovered an ancient city inside the body of the Underground Demon Beast, Yarakulon, and within that city, they had found numerous ancient books left behind from the ancient civilization, which caused a great sensation in Jinas, to the point where even the commoners spoke of it in heated discussions.
In the end, those ancient books had been delivered to the royal palace, and by Hendrick's own order, every registered court magician had been summoned to decipher them.
Now, with the work nearing completion, the process, the results, and the gains had all been compiled into detailed reports that were delivered to Hendrick's hands.
And so, Hendrick spent the night reading them, studying with utmost seriousness.
"Your Majesty, you should rest."
Rohm, hidden in the shadows, could not help but advise.
"It's fine, I'm almost done." Hendrick shook his head without turning around. "The deciphered texts contain plenty, including secrets of the ancient civilization, even unknown to us. I must understand these records as soon as possible."
"But there's no need to rush, is there?" Rohm interjected. "I mean, the ancient ruin where those books originated can't be developed a second time. Besides, the ancient city Marquis Mavros mentioned lies within the body of that Underground Demon Beast, so even if we find something useful in those records, the chances of verifying it are slim."
"Nothing in this world is absolute. Don't be so certain." Hendrick finally set the parchment aside and rubbed his forehead. "Didn't Sir Raven already say there might be a mysterious organization able to freely enter and exit that beast's body? And Sir Brynhart—he wields space magic that allows teleportation across distances beyond imagination. If necessary, with his help, we should be able to send people into that ancient city once again."
"Riezel Brynhart?" Rohm frowned, sounding doubtful. "Would he even agree to help us?"
"Well, there's always a way to persuade him..." Hendrick smiled with indifference. "So long as he has people or matters he still cares about, we'll find our chance to win him over. Wasn't that the reason I sent my precious daughter to his side in the first place? You've been keeping an eye on them, haven't you? How are things progressing?"
Hendrick's question drew a complicated answer from Rohm.
"Hmm, well, their relationship seems to be going smoothly. Rumor has it they're getting along very well. For some reason, Princess Lizbeth trusts him deeply, and he brings her with him wherever he goes. Some even say the two once spent an entire day and night in the same room without stepping outside, and that supposedly happened just before they left the royal capital for the Mavros Territory."
As he explained, Rohm could not help but feel sour, like his cherished cabbage had been taken by a pig—worse, a pig that left not even a shred behind.
Now, his entire demeanor exuded an unpleasant gloom.
Hendrick, however, reacted with brightened eyes and a look of satisfaction.
"Well, well, so soon, and she's captured Riezel Brynhart already... As expected of my daughter..."
Yes, Lizbeth may have been timid by nature, prone to showing weakness, and often scatterbrained, giving the impression of being easily deceived, but her charm was undeniable.
Royal princesses were generally beautiful—good lineage saw to that—but even among those naturally stunning princesses, his ninth daughter, seldom seen by outsiders, was exceptionally outstanding.
In terms of appearance, though she had just come of age and still carried traces of youth, she was no less striking than any mature princess—perhaps even more so.
In terms of body figure, at such a young age, she already surpassed all other women to the point where even his seasoned concubines paled in comparison.
He knew well that Lizbeth possessed a bewitching beauty—already extraordinary now, and certain to be unrivaled once she fully matured.
To put it bluntly, even with his critical eye as a king who had seen countless beauties, he could not find a single flaw in her figure.
For this reason, he was certain—once she grew up, she would surely become one of the most captivating women on the entire Akasha Continent.
Remembering Lizbeth's appearance, he had to admit that his moment of weakness outside the royal palace, when he had fathered her by accident, was not without cause.
After all, with such a beautiful daughter, how lacking could her mother have been?
Given that, the fact that he had failed to restrain himself and fathered an illegitimate child was, perhaps, inevitable.
At this thought, Hendrick's mind drifted back and lingered on Lizbeth's mother—especially her face, but...
'Why is it always so blurry...? I can't remember her appearance at all...'
Hendrick was once again feeling troubled, as he had been many times before.
In truth, this was not his first attempt to recall the woman, yet every time he tried, her image was always vague.
He could remember the meetings, the moments they shared, the moonlit scenes of their courtship, but beyond that, everything was lost.
He could not recall her face.
He could not recall her origin.
He only knew he had indeed been enchanted, utterly enthralled for quite some time.
He had barely managed to win her hand, only to grow inexplicably weary of her and turn away, as if that entire period of infatuation had been an illusion.
By the time he next heard of her, she was already dead—leaving behind only a daughter, a daughter who seemed far from ordinary.
Yes, in Hendrick's eyes, Lizbeth was anything but ordinary.
Her unearthly beauty alone set her apart, but there was more.
Most unusual of all was the sword she always carried—Moslow.
Everything pointed to Moslow being tied to the ancient civilization, a weapon of extraordinary standing in that era. Whoever had wielded it must have been a remarkable figure, yet when Hendrick ordered investigations and research, no one uncovered anything from it.
Moslow was also connected to the ancient ruin in the Neutral Territory and was suspected to be the key to unsealing that terrifying dragon.
At this thought, deep wariness flashed in Hendrick's eyes.
He had long wished to seal Moslow away, to eliminate all chance of that dragon's release, but whenever he attempted it, he was told it was impossible.
Moslow itself bore an extraordinarily powerful seal, one beyond the reach of weaker forces—and worse, any attempt to tamper with it might trigger disastrous consequences.
Ultimately, after much deliberation, Hendrick returned Moslow to Lizbeth, unwilling to provoke calamity. Keeping her confined in the inner palace, away from others, was perhaps also due to these concerns.
Some time ago, the girl had even come to ask him about her mother, but what could he say?
He himself was confused—unable to recall even her mother's face, so could he tell her the details of his past romance?
Nonsense.
As a result, he could only deflect, steering the conversation toward Riezel.
He knew doing so would disappoint her, making her think he had forgotten her mother entirely, but what choice did he have?
It was not as though he could confess the truth that he had truly forgotten.
He could only let the misunderstanding stand.
'Though letting that troublesome daughter out into the world, even sending her away, may seem improper, there was no other choice. A seventeen-year-old Sword Saint... his future is limitless...'
Now more than ever, Hendrick felt his decision had been correct.
As the saying went, 'one could not catch the wolf without risking the child.'
If he didn't send out his most alluring daughter, how else could he forge ties with Riezel?
Riezel was a man who wielded unfathomable space magic, who had even defeated both Rohm and Raven—a prodigy of the highest hierarchy.
Knowing that such a man already possessed strength rivaling Sword Saints, on top of that incredible magic, convinced Hendrick that letting such talent slip away would be a crime.
"Since Sir Brynhart is already so close to my daughter, surely he won't resist me as he once did, right? Hahaha..."
Hendrick couldn't help but laugh when suddenly—
[Fufufu, do you really believe that little princess is your daughter?]
A sultry, alluring laugh suddenly rang in Hendrick's ear, freezing the smile on his face.
"Who?!" Hendrick yelled in surprise, shooting to his feet.
However, the one who reacted was none other than Rohm, who leapt into view, shielding Hendrick.
"What happened, Your Majesty?" Rohm couldn't help but ask in confusion, glancing warily around them.
Seeing his reaction, Hendrick's expression shifted.
"...Didn't you hear it?" Hendrick asked in a low voice.
"...Hear what?" Rohm looked baffled.
Hendrick instantly fell silent.
In the next moment, however, the sultry laugh returned once more in his ears.
[Relax, Your Majesty. I used special means to deliver my voice to you. I'm not in the palace. In fact, I'm not even in Jinas.]
At these words, Hendrick instinctively let out a breath of relief, but what came next sent his heart sinking.
[Back to the point, Your Majesty. Do you really think Lizbeth Reinnail is your daughter?]
[You can't recall her mother's face nor her name, correct?]
[Well, that's only natural, Your Majesty. In the first place, her mother was never someone you were worthy of. You thought you had won her, but in truth, you were merely played.]
[How pitiful, Hendrick Jinas. You raised another man's daughter for eight years, cherishing her all the while, only to send her away yourself. It's beyond pitiful—it's enough to stir pity in others. Fufufu...]
Under other circumstances, the seductive laugh might have made Hendrick restless, eager to meet the woman behind such a voice, but now, her words left no room for that—only anger.
"Who are you to spout nonsense before me?" Hendrick demanded, his voice low and grim.
Rohm, unable to hear the woman's voice, could only stare at his king, who seemed to be talking with himself, in shock and confusion.
[Fufufu, I'm merely an outsider displeased by your plight.]
At Hendrick's question, the voice continued while laughing seductively.
[I know you doubt me, but surely the royal family has ways to verify its bloodline, right? Why not try it with that princess?]
[You've never verified her bloodline before, have you? Not because you didn't want to, but because your perception had been altered, which led you to overlook it.]
[But now it's time to wake up. A girl brought in from outside the palace—surely you should at least confirm if she truly carries your blood, that is, carries the blood of Jinas.]
At this point, the voice began to fade, like a final ultimatum.
[Go test it. You'll be surprised.]
As these words fell, the voice was finally gone.
"..."
Hendrick stood in silence, wearing a cold expression.
"Your Majesty?" Rohm asked, still bewildered.
"Send someone to the Frenzel residence..." Hendrick ordered gloomily. "Summon the Ninth Princess to the palace..."
===
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