Eva lasted exactly one full day before insulting Underworld nobility.

Honestly, considering the circumstances, she felt that was fairly respectable.

The problem began at dinner.

Or, more specifically, with the deeply unsettling realization that the palace servants treated meals the same way priests treated funerals.

Silently.

Nervously.

And with the constant possibility of death hanging in the air.

Eva sat alone at the far end of an absurdly long black dining table while servants moved around her like frightened ghosts. No one met her eyes. No one spoke above a whisper. Even placing silverware onto plates seemed to require immense emotional preparation.

It was exhausting to watch.

She had attempted conversation twice already.

The first servant nearly dropped dead from panic.

The second physically fled the room.

At this point, Eva was beginning to suspect the palace staff genuinely believed Acheron might materialize from shadows and kill them for excessive social interaction.

Which, annoyingly, no longer sounded impossible.

A silver goblet appeared beside her plate.

Eva looked up automatically.

The servant immediately flinched backward.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Eva muttered. “I’m not going to bite you.”

The poor woman looked unconvinced.

Before Eva could try again, the massive doors at the far end of the hall opened with a low grinding sound.

The entire room froze.

Every servant immediately lowered their heads.

Eva did not need to turn around to know who had entered.

The temperature dropped too quickly.

Acheron walked into the hall without looking at anyone.

Black coat.

Silver shadows.

Controlled violence wrapped in expensive tailoring.

At this point, Eva was fairly certain the man generated intimidation naturally the way storms generated lightning.

He moved toward the center of the table slowly while servants scrambled to retreat from his path.

Not one of them looked him in the eye.

Not one.

Eva watched the entire thing carefully.

Interesting.

No wonder everyone in this palace behaved like traumatized church mice.

Acheron finally sat across from her.

The hall remained silent.

Painfully silent.

Eva glanced between him and the untouched plates arranged across the table.

“…Do people normally survive dinner here?”

His silver eyes lifted toward her.

“Occasionally.”

“That was not comforting.”

One servant quietly poured dark wine into Acheron’s glass.

The servant’s hands shook so badly that several drops spilled across the tablecloth.

The entire room stopped breathing.

Eva saw it immediately.

The servant saw it too.

The poor man went pale enough to rival ghosts.

“My Lord—”

Acheron did not even look at him.

“Leave.”

Relief flooded the servant’s face so intensely it bordered on spiritual.

He vanished immediately.

Eva stared after him.

Then slowly looked back at Acheron.

“You know they’re terrified of you.”

“I am aware.”

“You say that like it’s normal.”

“It is.”

Eva frowned.

No irritation. No pride. No cruelty.

Just fact.

That bothered her more than arrogance would have.

The servants began bringing food carefully toward the table.

At least, Eva assumed it was food.

Several dishes appeared to contain things with too many legs.

One plate was actively smoking.

Another seemed faintly alive.

Eva eyed the nearest bowl suspiciously.

“…If this starts screaming when I touch it, I’m leaving.”

Acheron ignored her entirely and lifted a wine glass toward his lips.

The shadows near the ceiling shifted slightly as he moved.

Eva narrowed her eyes.

“You know, most people at least attempt conversation during meals.”

“You are speaking enough for both of us.”

“That feels unnecessarily judgmental.”

One corner of his mouth moved faintly.

Tiny.

Almost invisible.

But there.

Eva noticed immediately.

Interesting.

The Lord of Death almost had a sense of humor.

Disturbing information.

Before she could investigate further, the doors opened again.

This time, the servants reacted differently.

Not fear.

Tension.

Sharp and immediate.

Three figures entered the hall dressed entirely in black ceremonial robes marked with silver symbols. Unlike the servants, none of them lowered their heads fully before Acheron.

Arrogant, then.

Good to know.

The man at the center was tall, severe-looking, and painfully elegant in the way wealthy nobles often were. Silver rings covered nearly every finger. His pale hair had been pulled neatly behind his head, though the expression on his face suggested he had never enjoyed anything in his entire existence.

His eyes settled immediately on Eva.

And stayed there.

Ah.

Wonderful.

Judgment.

Eva had encountered that expression many times before.

Usually from priests.

Or rich people.

Or rich priests.

The nobleman stopped beside the table and bowed stiffly toward Acheron.

“My Lord.”

Acheron did not rise.

“Lord Vael.”

The man’s gaze shifted back toward Eva.

Disgust flickered openly across his face.

Well.

That was rude.

“So the rumors are true,” Vael said softly. “You brought a mortal into the palace.”

Eva leaned back slightly in her chair.

“Oh, good. We’ve reached the insulting stage quickly.”

Vael ignored her completely.

Also rude.

“The court is unsettled,” he continued toward Acheron. “The veil fracture has already spread through the lower sanctums.”

“I am handling it.”

“With respect, my Lord, the creature should never have crossed the Gate alive.”

Creature.

Eva’s patience thinned immediately.

Acheron’s expression remained unreadable.

“She survives by contract.”

“Then perhaps the contract was a mistake.”

Silence settled heavily across the hall.

The servants nearby looked seconds away from emotional collapse.

Eva slowly set down her fork.

“You know,” she said conversationally, “I can actually hear you.”

Vael finally looked directly at her.

Cold gray eyes.

The sort of eyes people developed after centuries of believing themselves superior.

“You should feel honored,” he said calmly. “Very few mortals survive long enough to offend this kingdom.”

Eva smiled thinly.

“Very few kingdoms survive long after underestimating mortal women.”

One of the servants quietly dropped a spoon somewhere behind them.

Vael’s expression darkened.

“Sharp teeth for prey.”

Eva tilted her head.

“And fragile pride for someone calling himself a predator.”

The room went utterly still.

Even the shadows near the ceiling stopped moving.

Vael stepped toward her slowly.

Dangerously.

Silver magic curled around his fingers.

“Oh,” Eva said flatly. “There it is. I was wondering when the dramatic threatening would begin.”

“Do you understand where you are?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“You stand inside the realm of death.”

Eva leaned forward slightly.

“And yet somehow you still sound like every arrogant man I’ve met aboveground.”

The noble behind Vael choked violently trying not to laugh.

Acheron’s wine glass cracked in his hand.

Every person in the room froze instantly.

Silence crashed through the hall.

Dark shadows spread slowly across the table beneath Acheron’s fingers.

His silver eyes lifted toward Vael.

And for the first time since entering the room, genuine danger entered the air.

Not loud danger.

Not explosive anger.

Worse.

Controlled.

Deadly.

“Enough,” Acheron said quietly.

Vael stiffened immediately.

The silver magic around his hands vanished.

Eva noticed something interesting then.

Lord Vael feared Acheron.

Not politically.

Instinctively.

Like prey recognizing something higher on the food chain.

Acheron’s gaze shifted slowly toward Eva next.

And somehow that felt even more dangerous.

“You enjoy provoking things capable of killing you.”

Eva crossed her arms.

“In my defense, they usually start it.”

“The Underworld is not your mortal village.”

“No,” she agreed softly. “In my village, people at least pretend to have manners.”

A dangerous silence followed.

Then, unexpectedly—

A low sound escaped from one of the nobles behind Vael.

A laugh.

Very brief.

Very accidental.

The poor man looked horrified immediately afterward.

Acheron slowly turned his head toward him.

The noble went pale.

Eva braced herself for catastrophe.

Instead, something stranger happened.

Acheron looked away first.

As though suppressing something.

The shadows near his chair twitched violently.

And beneath the silence of the hall—

Eva heard it again.

One heavy heartbeat.