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Dragon Calendar, Year 414.
Asura Royal Capital, Asura.
June 24th.
Tap, tap.
On the street of the Upper Noble District, footsteps slowly advanced.
The distance between each step was precise; this was not due to conscious calculation, but rather the accumulated muscle memory of the Water God Style.
As she walked, her hair, dark as forged iron, swung with the soft curve of her jawline and the morning light of Asura's dawn.
And below her shoulders, the faint blue tips of her hair lent a cool sensation to the morning breeze.
The girl in the black dress, her expression as graceful as her swaying skirt.
The dress was backless, subtly revealing the fluid lines of her back.
Through the slit in the skirt at her side, taut, long legs were faintly visible.
Her waist was subtly cinched, having shed much of the awkwardness of youth.
Isolte carried a wooden basket filled with ingredients, her eyes curved in a smile.
—The swordsman's uniform she had constantly worn for the past year, through all four seasons, had been shed at the beginning of summer.
Why?
A woman adorns herself for the one who pleases her.
It was now early summer. Asura itself was a mountain city. The temperature was much cooler than the lower-lying Flowing Falls City, especially in the early mornings of summer.
But the changing of seasons naturally brought with it blooming flowers, each vying for attention.
The noblemen out for a 'stroll' in the early morning looked a little listless, their expensive shirts occasionally stained with red wine.
However, the women beside them looked even more alluring than Asura's dawn.
They were clearly not wives.
Roughly divided into four categories.
Their own mistresses.
Other people's wives.
Other people's mistresses.
And from the pleasure district, everyone's communal carriage.
Were there carriages made of wood?
There really were.
But those were used by servants out doing errands in the early morning.
What respectable noble would be out strolling at dawn, just as the sun rose?
Rumble, rumble.
A carriage sped past Isolte, carrying a gust of wind. A young servant poked his head out, but saw that the beautiful black-haired girl's skirt hadn't even stirred.
He sullenly pulled his head back in.
Isolte watched the carriage drive away, then casually brushed some dust from her skirt.
The most vibrant flower of the Water God Style Main Dojo.
Her skirt only fluttered in the evenings at her own mansion.
During the day, it was held tightly to her calves by Flow Ougi; it was impossible for her to accidentally expose herself.
If it happened.
It could only be intentional.
Still within her own mansion.
For example, when someone entered the kitchen while she was cooking, and she unintentionally bent down to retrieve something.
Her waist had to bend; retrieving something was merely incidental.
At this time, nearly two months had passed since the 'Boreas Incident,' a full forty days. For the first ten days after the incident ended, the entire Upper Noble District was filled with Boreas conspiracy theories and various rumors, which greatly annoyed Isolte for a time.
But the one willing to show her skirt was only smiling faintly, saying:
—"It doesn't matter. The full scope of the 'truth' will naturally be pieced together little by little as time passes."
Clack, she stopped.
She turned to look beside her.
The neat cobblestones of the noble street stretched forward in her vision.
A few meters away.
The Boreas mansion in the royal capital stood quietly under the gradually rising morning sun.
It had changed owners.
Of course, the new owner.
Didn't sleep at home.
He slept at 'home.'
Isolte's lips curved upward even more.
And outside the mansion, there were still a few nobles lingering.
Faint whispers, carried by the wind, permeated Isolte's ears through Sense Flow.
Allen Boreas Greyrat.
The most dazzling star among the younger generation, rising from bloodshed under the First Prince's banner.
Extremely popular:
"Patricide... Are even children jealous? Lost his mind. Best if he's dead. If he's allowed to roam the royal capital, who knows when he'll bite us."
"The power struggle within His Highness the First Prince's faction, infiltrated by the Notos family using Her Highness the Second Prince's influence."
"I heard Duke Pilemon was imprisoned?"
"The evidence was conclusive. Her Highness the Second Prince immediately cut ties, personally pushing him out. Publicly assaulting a scion of Boreas, one of the Four Great Noble families, in broad daylight, intending to incite civil war among Asura's Four Great Noble families. This accusation, though grave, truly touched His Majesty the King's raw nerve. His Highness the First Prince has good methods..."
"What cutting ties? He was clearly used by the Second Prince from the very beginning. A single probing move. If it succeeded, it would be a hugely profitable business. If not, no matter. Duke Pilemon... ignorant fool, and I don't know why he hot-headedly came up with such a vulgar scheme."
"But then, wouldn't Her Highness the Second Prince's own reputation be greatly damaged?"
"Seeing His Highness the First Prince's influence grow, what, just obediently offer her neck for the slaughter? Boreas originally had no influence in the royal capital. Now with Allen's emergence, His Highness the First Prince sees his influence about to completely overshadow the other two candidates. If he doesn't act soon..."
"I heard Her Highness the Second Princess also pursued Allen Boreas Greyrat? Forty days ago, she was even a laughingstock for a time. Now looking back, though she seemed pathetic, she did have foresight."
"What kind of talk is that?"
"Can't you see yet? Whose 'scheme' is this, ultimately?"
"Whoever benefits most, the scheme is naturally theirs."
"Terrifying. How old is he? Less than half a month in the royal capital, and he can already stir up such a situation in the succession struggle?"
"His martial prowess is extraordinary, and he handles political maneuvering like a fish in water. I think the succession struggle might end prematurely!"
"Thirteen years old? Tch tch. Boreas has indeed produced a remarkable talent."
"Should we have one?"
"Pah! Go have one with your wife!"
"Hey, didn't you already have one...?"
"Then who knows whose it is?"
"Ah, this..."
"Look, that one..."
"Oh, the Water God's granddaughter. Thirteen years old. Quite the handsome pair."
Isolte's lips curved so much she couldn't suppress them.
So happy.
And amidst these gratifying words of witness, the 'facts' from over forty days later were also pieced together.
What are 'facts'?
What everyone believes to be true.
That, then, is fact.
Isolte walked away from the Boreas mansion entrance, passing through the Upper Noble District to her own mansion at its border with the Free Zone.
Although it was early morning, and the location was relatively secluded.
It was no longer quiet.
Isolte paused, and the smile on her face vanished.
In her line of sight, carriages lined up outside the mansion.
Asura's flowers were blooming.
—Elegant noblewomen, heavily made up, like orioles and swallows.
There was truly every kind.
Heavily made-up, alluring, vulgar women.
Lightly made-up, like white lotuses on the river.
Sexily dressed, recently widowed old women who looked almost twenty.
Like budding flowers, blinking, very shy, and bringing with them eager little children who yearned for their sweet sixteen.
It was truly a chaotic mess...
"Ma-Madam..."
A young boy, seeing Isolte, timidly spoke.
He had apparently been instigated by his family, and, not quite understanding etiquette, blurted out 'Madam.'
And his words were like a stone thrown into a lake, stirring up a thousand ripples!
The noblewomen, seeing this, some greeted her, some bowed, some curtsied.
Some even came forward to help Isolte, the future 'Madam,' with her wooden basket of vegetables.
They were a group of nobles, acting very properly indeed.
Making Isolte's lips twitch up and down like water ripples.
Ultimately, she managed to maintain a straight face, ignoring the many eager gestures, and stepped into the mansion's main gate along the path they had instinctively cleared for her.
The Kureel family mansion wasn't large. The central courtyard...
No, it wasn't even a courtyard, just a space that could be crossed in two steps.
Isolte ascended the steps, then turned to look behind her.
The eligible noblewomen hadn't left at all. They all stood outside, craning their necks. Some were even surrounded by servants who had swarmed out of carriages.
They set up garden tables.
And drank tea in pairs...
Absurd.
Isolte shook her head, turned, opened the door, and walked inside.
She closed the door. By the window, Rudy stood like a statue of a longing wife, staring melancholically out the window.
His dark circles were heavy.
He still clutched one of Allen's sword-swinging figurines.
—Thanks to Rudy's clever application of magic circles, it could now strike various chuunibyou-esque poses on its own.
Indeed, it sold out.
This was the reason for Rudy's heavy dark circles.
One day, under a sudden whim, Rudy, clutching the still grayish-white figurine (which didn't even have dye on it yet), went out and tried to promote it.
And then...
Having lived two lives, he finally experienced the joy of entering an auction house.
Final bid price—2000 gold coins.
It was bought by a mature woman with a teardrop mole at the corner of her eye, a very large bosom, and soft brown curly hair.
She was supposedly Faltz's distant cousin.
Recently divorced.
Exaggerated.
Everyone's coveting Allen, why is no one looking at me!!!
Is it because I'm young?!
Damn it!! The Green Leaf Project is sh*t!!
Who came up with that!!!
Isolte quietly watched the dumbfounded Rudy, who, despite making a lot of money, still couldn't hide his sadness.
She sighed, then turned.
But she involuntarily froze again.
In the living room, by the reception table, a red-haired girl sat, clutching a completely exquisite, ultimate version of the 'Allen' figurine.
Her face was serious, proper, meticulous.
She was having a lot of fun.
"Hmph!"
She occasionally struck various poses with her hand, as if studying Allen's sword movements.
Since the child got this toy, she started playing early every morning. Only after breakfast would she return to normal, beginning her swordsmanship practice.
Isolte watched this scene for a while, then shook her head, passing Eris, who was intensely playing with her own brother's figurine.
She walked into the kitchen.
Splash, splash.
The white-haired girl, wearing an apron, who was washing the meat for their morning meal, turned her head.
Her pointed ears twitched slightly. Her shoulder-length white hair softened her features, making her look like an Oriole flower blooming even in summer.
Her cheeks were also a tender pink, like an Oriole flower.
Sylphyette blinked her reddish-brown eyes and walked two steps closer.
She reached out, clinging to Isolte's shoulder, and looked out.
Of course, she was looking through the distant window, outside the mansion.
"More people today... Allen is really popular..."
As she spoke, Sylphy puffed out her cheeks, like an annoyed pink dumpling.
Isolte chuckled, poking the dumpling until it deflated.
"How could it possibly be less...?"
Sylphy's face was troubled.
Isolte, seeing this, pursed her lips, leaned close to Sylphy's ear, and softly blew a breath.
"But Sylphy already won, didn't she? Last night, did you do anything you shouldn't have done~?"
Sylphy's entire body stiffened. Her reddish-brown eyes slowly shifted to the side.
"No... no, I didn't..."
"Really didn't?"
"Really, really didn't... Master isn't back yet..."
Isolte tilted her head, looking at her.
"Then why are your lips purple?"
Sylphy, hearing this, suddenly bristled with a whoosh! "Ah! Pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-purple!?!? Purple??"
A green glow flashed. Sylphy casually conjured a water ball, using mixed magic to make it a rough mirror, and checked.
Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief.
"See... no... it's gone!"
She looked up.
—Isolte tilted her head, looking at her, a playful smile in her eyes.
Sylphy's face stiffened. She realized something, and her face turned crimson, as if it would drip blood.
"Is Senior Brother awake?"
"He's... awake."
"Let's go call him down together."
"But the food isn't ready yet."
Isolte heard this and looked at Sylphy, then spoke.
"When I went out this morning, my brother brought news from the main dojo. Someone delivered a message. Auntie, Master Philip, Lord Saul, and your mother and father, Uncle Paul, have all arrived in Flowing Falls City, and the news has spread these past few days."
"Mom and Dad... they're here already...? But why a verbal message...?"
"I heard they traveled without almost any sleep, and upon suddenly relaxing, Auntie fell ill."
"Ah!?"
"But I heard it was due to overexertion. And since they've already learned that Allen is not in mortal danger, everyone decided to rest in Flowing Falls City for a night, and will travel here tomorrow..."
"I see... Flowing Falls City..."
Flowing Falls City.
Summer arrived. Under the scorching sun, the river's current pounded.
The snowmelt from the peaks of the snowy mountains near Asura accelerated, and the water level naturally surged.
The sound of flowing water...
"The guests... the guests are... here. I haven't seen it in a long time... The rent has been paid for a long time... no one seems to be here now..."
An old, somewhat dilapidated inn. The middle-aged man, presumably the owner, trembled as he fumbled for a key and opened the door in front of him.
Creak, the door opened.
A damp, somewhat musty smell assailed them. The interior was very messy, wine bottles scattered everywhere.
The only clean spot was the window at the far end.
Sunlight streamed through the window, scattering into the room, falling onto a slightly messy tabletop.
It was covered with magic circle diagrams, and scattered 'Divine Servants' made from the scales of Oriole fish, tiny, glittering scales.
Meticulously adorned at the corners of the Oriole fish's eyes, sparkling with radiance.
This was the top attic floor of this inn. Because it was secluded, it had been rented long-term by an assassin named the Puppeteer.
But now.
The assassin was dead.
The owner trembled, looking at the person beside him...
...A person.
Their body was almost two meters tall, clad in a rough, tattered hooded cloak, covering their entire face.
Besides being tall, there seemed to be nothing particularly special about them.
However...
Splash, splash...
The owner wet his pants.
The hood trembled slightly, as if turning to look.
"Ah!!!!"
The next instant, the owner finally couldn't bear the fear that originated from the depths of his soul. He plopped down onto the ground, but before he could even steady himself, he scrambled away, rolling and crawling.
The strange man in the hooded cloak took a slight step at the sight. Then he quietly watched the owner's trail of urine disappear from his sight.
He was silent for a moment, then turned, lowered his head, and entered the attic.
Swish!!!
A figure darted out from the doorway, breaking through the wind, and in a flash, appeared before the hooded man.
The next instant, it stiffened.
—It was a doll.
A single finger was pointed at its forehead.
The hooded man withdrew his hand and walked to the table. He quietly looked at the 'Divine Servant' on the table, then reached out and opened the skylight.
Creak, the summer wind swept into the room from the skylight, circling the hooded man.
It climbed over the eaves.
It caressed the magic circle diagrams on the table.
It skipped over the wine bottles on the floor.
It slammed into the quietly standing doll.
Blowing it into a cloud of dust, which scattered onto the floor with a whoosh.
No longer recognizable as steel.
More like fine sand by the riverbank.
A rough, wild voice, a little hoarse from not speaking for a long time.
It rang out, like surging river water violently striking a reef.
"Chaos's son."
"Is dead."
"This is a situation that has never occurred in the 'past'."
The 'Divine Servant' on the table was picked up. The fish scales at the corner of its eyes also glittered.
The Styrian Church, what loyal followers did it have left?
Those scales adorning the 'Divine Servant's' eyes.
They were merely a clumsy recreation of a memory that was hard to forget.
The hood was blown back by the wind from the window, falling onto his broad shoulders.
A mass of wild silver hair cascaded down the sides of his rugged, chiseled features.
Golden eyes, like molten lava, swirled within them.
The corner of his eye.
Adorned with dragon scales.
Shining with a light named after a god.
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