Chapter 8: Aphrodisiac Breakup

Within the resplendent palace, every corner was adorned with brilliant roses.

Solene wore a restrictive mermaid-cut gown, her head draped in a veil as light as mist, looking as though she were participating in a dreamlike wedding rehearsal.

Standing before Ian, she exuded a sense of sacredness, the aura of one meticulously cherished.

The Empress and Emperor sat side-by-side—a rare sight—yet they remained silent, as if an invisible wall blocked all soul communication between them.

Below the dais, the two old Dukes sat with furrowed brows, consumed by anxiety; every mage dispatched to assassinate Solene had vanished without a trace.

Even more unexpected was the Church's public praise of Solene’s kindness, declaring her recognized by the Goddess and naming her the Proxy of the Saintess, hailed as the "Most Noble One."

Solene thought of the pink-haired, timid Saintess. They had shared afternoon tea once; the image of the girl trembling so violently she could barely hold her teacup was still vivid in her mind.

Hill sat silently in the audience, her gaze vacant, while the members of the Bruce and Heather families watched Solene with smiles. These two families had now become the closest allies of the Dagon family.

Thanks to Solene’s intervention, their strength had surged, and they had achieved great success in the arts, with exhibitions appearing throughout the Empire.

Simultaneously, cultural activities like music, dance, and jewelry design were becoming increasingly popular under Solene’s influence.

In return, a promising young mage from the Bruce family had been presented to Solene as a gift, serving as her exclusive personal mage.

He was granted access to the magic stone resources under the Crown Prince’s industries, receiving a regular monthly supply. However, these precious resources ultimately fell into Solene’s hands alone; the so-called "exclusive mage" was nothing more than a puppet.

At this moment, Solene immersed herself in the beautiful music. She held all the initiative; by comparison, the Empress and Emperor, still trapped in their game of mutual antagonism, appeared utterly ridiculous.

In fact, due to the severe measures Solene had enacted against the Emperor’s faction, half of them faced bankruptcy.

Consequently, the Empress had even hosted a grand banquet to invite Solene to dance, signaling her extreme favor and recognition to all.

Although the Empress offered the title of Duchess as a reward, it was not what Solene desired.

As night fell to the strains of melodious music, Solene placed her hand in Ian’s palm and donned the pink engagement ring symbolizing eternal love.

The ceremony, hailed as the most romantic of the century, finally drew to a close.

Yet, behind this joyous atmosphere lay a dark secret—tonight, many were destined to lose their lives.

The Empress raised her glass with elegance, the Emperor followed, and the crowd did the same. Different people, different wines. The loyal Andre had prepared everything.

Ian led Solene by the hand along the palace paths, the two of them discussing the details of their future wedding. The winter wind swept away the last trace of the Aslan royal family's luck.

Suddenly, Solene climbed onto Ian’s shoulders and kissed his lips deeply. As the drug took effect, Ian’s face flushed, his eyes growing hazy as he gazed at her.

Amidst the laughter and the feast of fine wine and delicacies, the lovers quietly slipped away from the bustling crowd and sought their private space—inside Ian’s palace.

While the guests continued to enjoy the revelry, they lay upon a soft, comfortable bed. At the same time, Hill left the party in a state of near-stupor.

Her lusterless eyes seemed drained of life; as the first target of Solene’s black magic control, the ruby necklace around her neck had never been removed—and never could be.

Hill walked slowly toward the Crown Prince’s bedchamber and stopped before the closed doors...

"Solene, I’m sorry." Hearing Ian’s apology, Solene stiffened slightly. The stinging pain in her body turned to numbness, and a tear fell upon her neck. Her slender waist was gripped by his large palms; Solene panted, tilting her head back to accept his kiss.

After the kiss, she closed her eyes, suppressing a scream in her throat, and whispered, "Why are you saying sorry?"

"We haven't had the wedding yet." Ian’s golden hair fell forward as he leaned down to kiss her collarbone. Solene stared with loathing at those blue eyes, grabbing his shoulders and digging her nails deep into his flesh. The pain beneath her forced a soft moan from her lips. Seeing Ian’s half-lidded, glazed eyes, she bit into his neck, leaving a series of varying marks.

It lasted until late at night when Ian fell into a deep sleep while holding her. Solene opened her eyes—the golden irises glowing—and with a wave of her hand, the marks on her body vanished. But this was only superficial. Enduring her exhaustion, she dressed and walked out.

Hill watched her with a numb expression. Solene waved a hand before her, and the girl began to undress and crawl under the covers, attempting to embrace the sleeping Ian. He pushed her away, his brow furrowing at the unfamiliar scent. The tedious preparations for the engagement had left him exhausted. He turned over, wrapping himself tightly in the soft blankets, and dreamed of his childhood. Back then, no matter how hard he tried to please the Emperor and Empress, it was futile. That feeling of loneliness resurfaced now. Then, at a chance banquet, he had seen someone like himself—Solene.

She surely understands me.

Solene stepped back into the banquet with a smile, only to find the scene in total chaos. Half the guests were collapsed on the floor, blood gushing from their mouths. The Empress’s brow was knitted in confusion:

Why were her own people spitting blood? We agreed it would only be the Emperor’s supporters.

Suddenly, a metallic sweetness surged in her throat, and the Empress involuntarily spat out black blood. The Emperor’s eyes widened in shock.

At that moment, Solene rushed to the Empress with a face full of concern, shouting with tears in her eyes: "Quick! Get a doctor! The Empress has been poisoned!" The Empress gripped Solene’s collar, staring at her with utter disbelief, while the Emperor stood up, his eyes trembling.

As if everything had been pre-ordained, the news arrived the following morning: The Empress had passed away. All evidence pointed to the Emperor as the mastermind. The Church condemned him for his cruelty, announcing that because the Goddess had shed tears of blood, a severe punishment would be enacted. Simultaneously, the Crown Prince was "caught in the act" in bed; Solene broke off the engagement and announced a high-profile breakup.

Facing the royal family’s desperate situation, Solene chose to "forgive" the Crown Prince and gave him her full support to ascend the throne. Before the masses, she bravely defended him and pleaded for mercy.

This act won widespread acclaim, and some even called for her to become the Empress. However, Solene accepted no titles, proposing instead that the rewards be given to the common people.

She also suggested allowing commoners to study magic, moves that gained her a massive following of supporters and believers.

Subsequently, under her prompting, Ian drafted an edict abolishing the status of the two Dukes and stripping them of their military and economic power.

The Marquises were also deprived of most of their privileges; the aristocratic class began to lose its influence.

She stood among the ranks of the Earls, her gaze piercing through the crowd to watch Hill, whom she controlled. Hill clung tightly to Ian’s arm as they walked side-by-side at the front of the procession.

Ian’s figure was thinner than before. From his initial shock and disbelief to the moment he sought an explanation from Solene—only to be forced to sign the edicts under her magical restraint—he had no choice but to accept reality, choosing to endure and wait for a chance to turn the tide.

He personally sent his own father to the guillotine. The old Emperor looked up at his son; Ian’s face beneath the crown was a mask of bewilderment.

The Emperor cried out: "In the Magic Tower, there is a portrait of the one I love. I hope you will honor our past bond and let it be buried with me." With that, his gaze fell finally on Solene’s face. Her expression was cold, the corners of her mouth curving slightly upward.

At the command, the blade fell, and the Empire ushered in a new era. Ian’s resentful gaze shot toward Solene like a spear.

She looked up in response, a triumphant smirk on her lips.

Those blue eyes look much better now.

The dust settled, and a new world arrived for the Lowlands. Solene initiated the Lowland Reconstruction Project, encouraging residents to develop farmland and establish wineries. She walked into the palace carrying a bottle of newly brewed red wine.

The wedding of Hill and Ian was set for early spring, three months away. The old winter had passed, and the Lowlands welcomed their own spring.

By contrast, the palace seemed perpetually shrouded in the lingering chill of winter. Servants worked diligently to clear the remaining snow; no one dared stop Solene as she strode into this silent place.

Ian’s temperament had changed quietly. The gentle, jade-like warmth of the past had been replaced by a faint coldness.

His high-and-mighty posture made him appear increasingly similar to the late Empress—his mother. Although his face resembled his father, the silhouette of his character was tracing the shadow of his mother.

"Greetings to the Sun of the Empire, His Majesty the Emperor. Please forgive my sudden arrival; this red wine was so delicious that I rushed here to share it with you. Miss Hill seems to like it as well."

Hill stepped out from Solene’s shadow, her eyes hollow and numb. Solene gently stroked the girl’s hair before turning her gaze to Ian.

The air was thick with complex emotions—loathing, coldness, and pain intertwined.

Ian stopped his pen, and his magic stone lost its luster. He lowered his head, a surge of power moving through his fingertips: this was the last trump card his father had left him.

Solene pulled Hill to sit on a nearby sofa, which was piled high with documents—most of which Solene had already read and annotated. Ian took a seat opposite her. In just two short months, the innocence he once possessed had vanished without a trace.

"Do you intend to imprison me?" Solene asked, tilting her head. She laughed and tossed the reports onto the table, offering a friendly reminder: "I have people in the Magic Tower. This magic circle is indeed impressive, but as for who it will actually trap... that remains to be seen." After speaking, her lips curved up as she downed a glass of red wine in one gulp.

With the release of powerful magic, her eyes began to glow. Facing this, Ian clenched his fists; he could not let himself be bound here. A flash of determination crossed his blue eyes, followed by a complex magic circle unfolding beneath his feet. In a flash of light, Ian vanished from the spot.

Solene calmly poured a second glass and finished it. She rang the bell on the table, and a maid appeared instantly, her body trembling. In the maid’s eyes, Solene was dressed simply in a white shirt and wide-legged trousers, yet the gemstones on her cuffs and her powerful aura made her appear exceptionally noble.

"The Emperor has disappeared. What do you think we should do?" Solene flicked a finger, and the doors slammed shut.

The maid collapsed to her knees, terrified: "I know nothing! I know nothing!"

"Be quiet," Solene said with a frown. She walked to the maid, knelt down, and lifted her face with an index finger. "In that case, you shall be the Emperor."

The maid looked at her in confusion, her body shaking uncontrollably. Solene smiled slightly: "Open your mouth." The maid obeyed. Solene bit her own finger, let the blood drip into the maid’s mouth, and pressed down firmly on the top of her head.

With a low scream, the maid’s body underwent a startling transformation—bones grew wildly, the voice became deep and powerful, until she had turned completely into Ian’s likeness.

"Now you can only follow my orders," Solene said, standing up. "I have placed a restriction on you. Any information I do not wish you to reveal, you will be unable to speak or write, even in death."

Having finished, Solene turned to leave. Hill stepped forward to help "Ian" up.

Left on the table was the unfinished wine. A cold sneer touched Solene’s lips: To think that those who once served the Emperor and Empress had now unified to stand by the Crown Prince. How farcical.