The altar waited in silence, ancient stones that had witnessed a thousand pacts—none quite like this one.
Two women stood across from each other, the stone altar between them catching the sunlight that bled through the arched windows. A third figure stood to the side, caught in the crossfire of their exchanged stares. And not only that...
What are the Queen and Lady G6 doing here together in the Promise Room? Tolentino's thoughts raced, his professional composure barely holding.
"Your Majesty the Queen." He inclined his head, choosing his words carefully. "I have instructed my assistant to withdraw from this witnessing. I assume... this matter is of some importance?"
Queen Euphelia turned to the Archbishop, studying his obvious discomfort with cool amusement. The man was clearly not pleased to be entangled in whatever was passing between her and G6.
She smiled softly. "Your Holiness, please relax. You are far too tense." Her voice dropped—not quite warm, but approaching something close to cold. "I know about you and G6."
Tolentino's eyes widened. He shot a sudden, sharp stare at G6, who stood utterly unbothered, her expression showing no interest in his distress.
"P-Pardon?"
The Queen chuckled—a sound like silk over steel. "Lady Reise currently resides at the Palace, as is customary for a future bride to prepare for her marriage. However, she does have the leisure to go out and... enjoy herself... does she not?"
Tolentino paused, processing.
That's right. Nobles are strict about decorum, especially one about to marry a prince and become the next Grand Duchess. His eyes slid back to G6.
She looked so different now. Noble. Refined. Sunlight catching those grey eyes that stared back at him empty as a winter sky. But he knew. He knew this was the same woman who had pressed a blade to his throat.
Lady G6 is not someone who submits easily. The Queen being here must be her doing.
He exhaled slowly, forcing calm into his body. When he spoke again, his voice carried practiced warmth. "Oh my, Your Majesty. Please forgive this humble priest—I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
Queen Euphelia smiled, but her eyes calculated behind it. I see. Lady Reise has already put you in her palm.
"Enough."
The single word cut through the pleasantries like a blade. Both turned to G6.
"Let's start the binding, Your Majesty."
A beat of silence. Then the Queen nodded.
Tolentino moved to the altar, his hands steady despite the chaos in his mind. He retrieved the sacred dagger—the same one from before, the same cold weight.
"The ceremony, then," he said quietly.
He began the rites, voice echoing off ancient stone. When the time came, he cut his own finger, letting blood fall on the carved symbol. It flared once in acknowledgment.
He passed the dagger to the Queen.
"I, Euphelia De Lune Einston," she declared, her voice clear and absolute, "promise to never break this Pact of Soul. In this binding, if I ever betray, lie, or abandon my vow, my life shall be the price."
A small cut. Blood fell. The symbol pulsed.
She passed the dagger to G6.
"Do not forget my one request," the Queen murmured.
G6 took the dagger. She looked at the Queen—and smiled.
Not sweetly. Not cunningly. Something else entirely. A smile that mocked the Queen for even making such a request. A smile that said you have no idea what you've just done.
"I, Reise Worthon," she said, her voice carrying through the sacred space, "promise to never betray, lie, or abandon my pact. And I hereby promise to never take Queen Euphelia's life—to any extent."
She cut her finger. Blood fell.
The Queen froze.
For one terrible moment, something cold pierced her chest.
Not physical. Not quite. But there—a needle of ice threading between her ribs, brushing her heart, then vanishing before she could gasp. It was there and gone in an instant, but she felt it. A chill that had nothing to do with temperature. A warning written in her own blood.
She said my name.
For the first time, she said my name.
The Queen didn't move. Didn't breathe. She simply stood there, staring at the woman across the altar, and tried to understand why her heart was beating faster than the ritual warranted.
She didn't know if it was instinct or fear or something else entirely. But she knew, in that moment, that something fundamental had shifted. That the balance she thought she'd struck was not the balance at all.
"As the Pact of Promise has been completed with the blood of two and witnessed by one," Tolentino's voice rose, "witnessed upon the symbol of the Holy Trinity... In the name of Eldrin, God of Life and Prosperity; Escar, God of War and Resolve; and Edith, Goddess of Death and Cycles... we hereby seal this pact. Whoever breaks it shall succumb to death."
The altar blazed.
Light erupted upward, filling the room with searing brightness. And in that moment, suspended in radiance, Queen Euphelia saw G6 smile at her.
Not the mocking smile from before.
Something worse.
A smile of completion. Of satisfaction. Of someone who had just accomplished exactly what she set out to do.
The Queen's hand drifted—barely an inch—toward her chest. Toward the spot where the cold had been. She stopped herself before the gesture could be seen.
What was that?
Why did it feel like—
The light faded. The altar returned to stone.
And the Queen understood:
She had not leashed a weapon.
She had just been leashed by one.
And that smile—that terrible, knowing smile—would never leave her memory.
Neither would the cold.
Deep in her chest, where no ritual light could reach, something waited. Something small. Something patient.
Something that had arrived a heartbeat before the pact was sealed.
And it would wait.
Forever, if it had to.
「Temple's Drawing Room」
The grand yet warm room held its breath.
Two powerful figures sat across from each other, the low table between them bearing tea that neither had touched more than necessary. Tolentino had excused himself—ostensibly to give them privacy, but more honestly, to breathe air that didn't feel so heavy.
"The Pact of Promise is done." Queen Euphelia lifted her teacup, the motion studied, controlled. She sipped slowly, watching G6 over the rim. "What is your decision now, Reise?"
G6 didn't look at her. Arms crossed, gaze fixed on the window where a serene garden basked in false tranquility. Her reflection stared back at her—a ghost in glass.
"As it was from the start. I want that black ledger."
The Queen studied her profile. "And after you clear it? What then?"
G6 turned. Smiled. Not warm. Not cold. Something in between that didn't belong in either category.
"Trust me," she said, "that black ledger will never be completed."
Queen Euphelia's head tilted slightly—a bird sensing something wrong in the wind.
"If the ledger is so easily crossed out..." she continued.
G6's gaze returned to the garden. To the manicured hedges and carefully placed flowers. To peace bought at a price.
"...then there would be no one like me," she murmured. So quiet it might have been meant only for herself.
The Queen set down her teacup. The click of porcelain against wood was loud in the silence.
"So what you're saying is that the ledger can be filled, but never finished?"
G6 took her time. Lifted her own cup. Sipped. The tea was excellent—she didn't taste it.
"You may need another ledger to write in," she said finally, lowering the cup with deliberate slowness, "but you will never stop needing to have one. That is the harsh reality of this world, Your Majesty."
She looked at the Queen directly. Grey on blue.
"There is no such thing as peace." she added.
The words landed like stones in still water.
"There is only the cleaner who comes after the trash. The bearer who bears the sin. The darkness—so that the light can shine brightly." she continued.
The Queen's fingers tightened around her cup.
"I don't know what dreams you had," G6 continued, "that made you walk down the alley where I lie. But if you're determined to be tangled in this, you should abandon fleeting notions. Colorful worlds. Peaceful worlds." A pause. "They're not for people like us."
Us.
The word echoed in the space between them.
Queen Euphelia stared at the woman across from her—this creature wearing her future daughter-in-law's face—and realized she still had no idea what truly happened in that room when Reise Worthon died.
Had she truly seen something in those final moments? Some vision that broke her and remade her into this?
Or had the poison simply killed the mask, leaving only what had always been waiting beneath?
"I need you to speak plainly," the Queen said, and heard the slight crack in her own voice. "In a way I can understand."
G6's smile returned. That terrible, knowing thing.
"You were smart enough to try tricking me after seeing what I'm capable of, Your Majesty." She leaned back, crossing her arms again. "Do I really have to spoon-feed you what I mean?"
Silence.
The Queen said nothing.
G6 sighed—the sound of someone explaining mathematics to a child who refused to grasp it. She lifted her tea one last time, sipped, and set it down with finality.
Then she looked at the Queen.
Straight on. Unblinking. Eyes that had seen too much to ever look away from anything again.
"What I'm trying to say," she said, each word deliberate, "is that there is no authentic peace."
The garden outside continued its serene existence. Flowers swayed. Birds sang. None of it touched the room.
"The world may seem peaceful in the morning you wake up." G6's voice dropped, became almost gentle—which made it worse. "That's only because someone enforced it in the night."
She held the Queen's gaze.
"There is only peace because someone else had to abandon the normalcy of humanity. So that people who don't have the guts to do so can live in their ignorant peace."
The words hung in the air between them.
And somewhere deep in Queen Euphelia's chest, something cold and patient waited. Listening. Knowing what she was only beginning to understand.
She had wanted a shadow to govern the darkness.
She had not understood that shadows don't govern.
They consume.
"So, Your Majesty." G6 settled back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other with casual arrogance. "Ask away. I'll give you a free pass—whatever you ask, I'll answer truthfully. No flattery, no hidden meanings. So make sure to ask every question you have, because this is the first and last time I'll offer this."
Queen Euphelia set down her teacup with deliberate slowness. She clasped her hands and rested them on her lap, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable.
"Very well." A pause. "Does Cryomancy truly require you to kill in order to advance?"
"You doubt the book you gave me?"
"Theories should be proven."
"It's proven. But it doesn't allow me to kill innocent people." G6's eyes flickered with something—amusement, maybe, or confusion at her own words. "I don't know what the so-called divine beings consider 'innocent,' but that's the restriction."
"What would happen if you killed an innocent person?"
G6's head tilted. "Do you think I'm the type of person to kill someone innocent, Your Majesty?"
"From your own words, you seem to lack a proper foundation for determining what 'innocent' means."
"I don't come after random people. I have standards."
"You speak as if you've been doing this your entire life." The Queen's voice softened, just slightly. "Did House Worthon make you this way?"
"House Worthon made me to be the wife of your dearest son." G6's tone was flat, matter-of-fact. "As for what made me this way..." She paused, something ancient flickering behind her grey eyes. "If you're looking for someone to blame, blame the world itself."
The Queen frowned. She knew House Worthon—knew they would never ruin their child like this. They treasured Reise.
So if not her family... the world?
"Then..." The Queen looked down at her lap, something she rarely did, something that felt almost like hiding. "Are you doing all of this—all this sin against the Gods—for your Cryomancy?"
Against the Gods? G6 almost laughed. If this woman knew what the so-called Gods did a thousand years ago, she'd question her entire belief system.
'That is why you must not,' Daunt's voice whispered. 'Not that you could, anyway.'
G6 remained silent.
How could she explain that it wasn't just for Cryomancy? That it was more complex than the Queen could possibly understand?
"No." The word came out quieter than she intended. "I'll be doing this until the day I die."
The Queen's eyes lifted. "You're going to be Grand Duchess. The wife of my son. You'll have a family of your own, Reise."
G6's expression shifted—something dark passing through those grey depths.
"Your Majesty."
The Queen flinched. G6 looked... disturbed.
"I've only survived this long because my nature acts on its own, even when I momentarily drift from it." The words came slowly, like pulling teeth. "I tried to find a reason for what happened to the old Reise. To the old me. I made myself believe I could enjoy this... abnormality that became my reality."
The Queen's confusion must have shown on her face.
"But the moment I stepped outside the gilded cage of noble life..." G6 looked away, toward something distant, something no one else could see. "I understand now."
Silence stretched between them.
"I can never walk away from what I was made to be. I only know one thing: if you took it away from me, I'd rather slit my throat than live like what you call 'normal people' do."
The Queen's clasped hands tightened until her knuckles went white.
"Do you wish to annul the engagement?"
I lived a different lives in my past, G6 thought. Being a wife, having a 'family'—that's just camouflage for people like me. A way to hide the real me.
So...
"Why would I? I spent ten years being the perfect fiancée to your son."
And in that moment, the Queen understood.
She interpreted the story in her own way, through her own lens—but she understood.
Maybe Reise's obsession with Prince Dio all these years wasn't because she simply liked him.
He was a cover. A perfect disguise for her terrifying nature.
More terrifying than the screaming, tantrum-throwing girl she used to be.
Am I a bad mother for not thinking twice about giving my son to this kind of woman?
"Besides," G6 added, a ghost of something almost like humor in her voice, "no one would question two powerful figures meeting frequently if they're mother and daughter-in-law."
Maybe I'm the crazy one, the Queen thought. For being relieved that this monster—who threatened my life with heavy murderous intent—will be my daughter-in-law.
"Is that all your questions?" G6 asked.
"There are more. Honestly, you said many things that feel... strange. As if you speak like a different person." The Queen paused. "But I trust you, Reise. I cannot say you are not dangerous. But at least I can say you intend to keep your words."
She stood. Walked around the table. Sat beside G6.
And took her hands.
"Forgive me for trying to trick you," the Queen said quietly. "You saved us from Marquess Vinesthorne's scheme, and I repaid you with such disrespect."
G6 looked at their joined hands. "I praise your guts. Trying to trick someone who grounds a criminal to paste right in front of you."
The Queen smiled—awkward, resigned, but genuine.
Then the air around them changed.
Bubbles of water, luminous as captured moonlight, began to drift through the room like a school of glowing fish. They swirled around the two women, gentle and warm, carrying the scent of ocean spray and deep tides.
'Oh my... a blessing from the Guardian of the Sea,' Daunt murmured in G6's mind.
The Queen's eyes glowed faintly blue. When she spoke, her voice carried an undertone of ancient power—not hers alone, but something flowing through her.
"I, the eighth Guardian of the Sea, bless thee. Whatever danger may befall you, the spirit of water wherever thou may be will always protect you. I swear this upon the crest of De Lune, bearer of Water Affinity, ruler of water spirits."
The luminous bubbles converged above G6. For a single breath, they hung there like a constellation of liquid stars.
Then they exploded—not violently, but in a cascade of tiny, dandelion-like droplets that rained down upon G6, sinking into her skin, her hair, her clothes, leaving no trace but a faint, lingering warmth.
G6 looked down at herself, then up at the Queen.
"What a fancy reconciliation gift." A smirk tugged at her lips. Not cold. Not mocking. Almost... human.
The Queen smiled back.
And for just that moment—just one fragile, improbable moment—the monster and the monarch sat together like two women who might, possibly, learn to understand each other.
It wasn't normal.
But by G6's standards?
Close enough.
—To Be Continued…—