Chapter 11: The Assassination of the Emperor

After being pushed away, the Emperor turned and left in feigned indignation. Hill stood frozen like a soul-less puppet until Solene gave a light wave of her hand; only then did she seem to wake and follow him out.

Abel sensed something amiss, his gaze locking onto Hill’s retreating back. He had assumed she had grown submissive after her period of confinement, but the situation now seemed far from simple. Since becoming the "fiancée," Hill had rarely initiated conversation with him; most of the time, she simply sat in silence on the swing he had once prepared for Solene, lost in thought.

Solene said softly, "Marquess Iris has invited me to her birthday banquet. I hear the petals from her rose garden can cover the ground of the entire Empire. Come with me."

"Alright," Abel responded in a low voice.

He had little overlap with Marquess Iris. Since childhood, she had been undergoing rigorous training to become the family head and rarely entered the palace; they had only met once or twice as children. Since losing her father's protection at the age of fifteen, she had shouldered the family's responsibilities and became one of the old Emperor’s most trusted subordinates.

A maid stepped gracefully into the room, holding a pale blue envelope as light as the morning mist.

"Countess, an urgent letter has arrived."

Solene took the envelope with a smile, gently pushed Abel away, and looked at him sideways. She pressed the envelope to her lips and spoke slowly: "Abel, the destiny of the Empire is about to be rewritten. The ending of

Dreamland

has been revealed—3812. Legend says that one who witnesses the sunrise for the 3812th time will receive the Goddess's favor."

Abel was confused by her words but could not look away. He stared deeply into her mysterious, captivating eyes, silently memorizing the phrase.

"Are you willing to witness this mysterious 3812th sunrise with me?" Solene’s tone was as calm as ever, as if discussing a trivial matter.

"Whether it is ten, twenty, or thirty years, I am willing to stay by your side." Abel’s gaze was sincere—not a lie, though it likely carried a hidden meaning.

Solene gave a light laugh. "How long have we even known each other? We’ve only slept together once, and yet you say such moving things. You truly have a talent for being a lover."

Solene returned to her study alone and slowly broke the seal of the letter. The handwriting was sharp and rigid, reflecting the writer's personality.

Knight Sylvia, you finally understand that we are the ones who should be working together.

The content of the letter read:

Solene, I have witnessed the transformed face of the Lowlands. Perhaps you are right—the moment for change has come. I hope you can overlook my past stubbornness.

I was not raised in the shadows of the Lowlands from birth. I studied at a commoner's school in the Upper City, where the textbooks were all written by the nobility. The education I received as a child was nothing more than an exchange of obedience for peace. Conversely, the children of the nobility learn the arts of deception and plunder from a young age.

The Crown Prince is a naive child spoiled by his mother. His father tried to save him, but he remains trapped in his mother’s lies, unable to free himself. As his swordsmanship tutor, the last thing I can do for him is hope that you will spare his life in the end.

Iris’s birthday celebration is actually a meticulously arranged magic circle, consecrated with the blood of a thousand innocent commoners. Its curse is not to be underestimated. Be extremely careful.

Solene set the letter aflame. As the fire danced, it reflected the truth of the aristocrats' cruel sacrifice. This was likely the root of Sylvia's resolute betrayal—a stubborn and headstrong woman. As the last bit of paper turned to ash and touched her fingertip, the pain shot through her heart like an electric current.

The stinging in her heart was dull and ambiguous. It felt like the gasping on a bed or the gasping of someone drowning.

On the day of the banquet, Solene took Abel’s hand as she stepped off the carriage, followed closely by the royal carriage. The banquet was decorated with striking red roses, beautiful yet carrying a hint of terror. Solene picked up a wine glass with composure. Marquess Iris had clearly lost interest in playing her role; she quietly broke a bottle under the table, activating the blood curse array.

As the blood-red roses bled continuously like severed heads, the other nobles retreated into the corners in terror. Solene smiled slightly, turning her gaze toward Sylvia, who stood beside Iris. Sylvia drew her sword without hesitation, sealing Iris's throat in a single stroke.

"Protect the Emperor! Marquess Iris intends to assassinate His Majesty!" she cried out. "Knights, hear my command! Escort all nobles away from here!"

Knights who had been lurking outside rushed in. Solene remained smiling, elegantly sipping her wine. Beside her, Abel’s eyes widened in disbelief as he watched—the most loyal knight had chosen betrayal?

The area was quickly cleared. Iris clutched her neck, staring at Sylvia in disbelief.

"Teacher..." she managed to choke out.

"You are beyond saving," Sylvia responded coldly.

The innocent girl who had once sworn to protect the weak seemed to exist only in memory; the current Iris had been utterly corrupted by the aristocracy. Iris collapsed, her final sight being Solene, half-trapped within the magic circle.

Sensing the other’s triumphant gaze, Solene slit her wrist and used her blood to draw a magic circle in the air. The two circles collided, and flames rose from beneath Solene’s feet, devouring the entire ritual space. The blood-red roses swirled in the fire until they turned to ash and scattered in the wind.

"Solene! You will die a horrible death!" Iris roared, staring fixedly at Solene until her last breath. "Ian isn't that kind of person... I love him! I wanted to protect him! What right do you have to treat him like this?! He is the Sun of the Empire, and you are nothing but low-born trash from the Lowlands! Low-born!" With that final cry of rage, her blood surged out faster.

Sylvia looked at Solene in shock. Was this the power of a Special-class mage? Red flames burned in Solene’s eyes. Abel lowered his head in thought; he knew that with Solene’s current mana reserves, no one could stand against her—she was as powerful as the Demon King in a story.

"Fortunately, your timely action interrupted the magic circle's influence. If I had been completely immobilized, I might have actually lost my life," Solene said with a smile, her tone mocking.

Sylvia turned toward Abel, a look of vigilance crossing her face.

"Don't worry, it does no harm for him to know. I am glad to work with you, Knight Commander." Solene smiled and raised her hand. Sylvia did not choose to shake it; instead, she bowed slightly and left the scene trembling. She had personally killed her own student.

Solene and Abel sat side-by-side in the returning carriage. She looked at his bewildered expression and gave a light laugh.

"Abel."

She pressed a knee against his leg, grabbed his hair to tilt his head up, and kissed him. The aftertaste of the wine was like a flame burning between their lips. Solene panted, her voice slightly dazed: "Your Highness the Crown Prince..."

At those words, Abel’s gaze instantly focused, locking onto Solene’s misty eyes.

"Abel, I am a low-born person from the Lowlands. What are you?" With that, Solene bit his neck gently.

"I am also a low-born person from the Lowlands," Abel responded, while hugging her tightly. He was meant to kill her. Hate and love were so intertwined he could not distinguish them. His mother didn't love him, his father didn't love him—he accepted all of that. But why did even you, Solene, not love me?

As silent tears slid onto her shoulder, Abel leaned into her embrace. Solene released her bite and pulled him into her arms instead, gently stroking his hair with a deep and complex gaze.

Solene held his neck gently, and their bodies remained intertwined in a lingering embrace all night. Glass after glass of red wine was poured until the bottles were empty, leaving only the marks they had left on each other.

The piercing noon sunlight cut through the curtains, illuminating their figures as they slept in each other's arms. Solene’s hair was wrapped around Abel’s neck. A tender entanglement.

Solene opened her eyes slightly, turned over lazily, and pressed her forehead against Abel’s neck. They hadn't fallen into a deep sleep until dawn, spending the entire morning in dreamland. A moment later, Solene slowly raised her head. In truth, both had been awake for a while, but they shared a tacit silence, simply huddling together.

"Get up and eat," Solene said, her voice carrying a trace of exhaustion; she had no strength left.

Abel opened his eyes and gently unwound her hair from his neck, carefully smoothing her golden tresses. Last night, he had inadvertently seen a map of the dungeon on the desk; he had to take action today. If discovered, he would have no choice but to teleport away.

Solene was well aware of his every move; she had intentionally let him see that map.

Abel, let me see what you’re capable of.

"I have some business to handle in the study tonight. You go play in the manor by yourself." She kissed the corner of his mouth and got up to leave.

Abel lowered his head, clenching his fists. The mages under the old Duke had all been captured by her, including those who had protected him since he was a child. He had to rescue them. Abel wrote a note and hid it carefully in his sleeve. If he failed this time, it would mean a total break; there would be no peace between them until death.

At dusk, Solene stood by the window, staring at the gloomy sky, sighing to herself: "It seems the heavens don't want to help you, Ian. It’s going to rain." Rain would affect the stability of magic circles, causing them to shift.

Solene held a candlestick, walking step by step toward a seemingly ordinary wooden door. With a piercing creak, the door slowly opened, startling the figures inside who scrambled to hide behind barrels. Empty wine bottles were stacked around, revealing the destitute mages. The man in the lead sat slumped on the ground, his chin covered in stubble, his hair a mess. The majesty of the former Tower Master was gone.

"Well? Have you been hungry enough to eat your companions?" Solene spoke, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. Beside them, skeletal remains were covered in bite marks.

"Low-born Lowland trash!" the man spat, his teeth bared. With his beard and disheveled hair, he looked nothing like his formerly noble self.

A helpless smile touched Solene’s lips. "Can you find a fresh word? I’m tired of hearing that one."

"You will die by the Holy Sword! You will face judgment and execution!" a young mage screamed, his voice full of endless rage and desperation.

Solene gripped the iron bars of the cage, her gaze sharp. "The Gods don't care about your lives. And the common people you used as experimental subjects? They will never let you go. They will return from hell to drag you into the abyss with them."

The young mage choked, and the atmosphere froze instantly. Solene shrugged and laughed. "I figured as much. You like hearing those things."

"Those commoners were volunteers!" another young mage rasped, nearly roaring. "They needed money, and we gave it to them! What right do you have to judge us!"

Solene tapped the iron bars, her eyes full of disdain. "Oh? Volunteers? Did they have a choice? They would have starved to death otherwise! Did you really think no one knew about all this?"

The former Tower Master remained silent. The air felt solidified. Solene smiled slightly and looked to the side. "The one coming to rescue you actually has some skill, being able to crack my magic circle." As she finished speaking, magic surged. With a single strike, the wooden barrels shattered. Abel’s figure vanished, leaving only torn pieces of paper on the floor.

A bolt of lightning cut through the dark night, followed by a torrential downpour. Solene bent down to pick up the fragments, wrapping them carefully in her handkerchief before walking to the front of the cage. She stood on her tiptoes and tapped the ground lightly. The magic circle activated, light radiating everywhere. The trapped mages' lives slowly drained away, and she, having activated the array, absorbed that power.

After the dust settled, Solene opened her umbrella and slowly walked away. The faint candlelight in her hand was swallowed by the wind and rain, eventually returning to darkness.

The fragments of paper in her hand were pieced together, and on them were written several large words: "I will definitely kill you with my own hands."