"Was that really necessary?" I asked flatly.

My gaze drifted toward the koi pond, which was one fish too many.

A violet-hued koi darted beneath the rippling surface, then surged upward in a flash of light. Water exploded outward, and where the fish had landed, now a familiar man stood in a pair of iridescent swim briefs. Chase Daylan adjusted the pair of blue goggles, perching them on his forehead and slicked back his soaked violet hair.

"What a refreshing swim that was," he said cheerfully, as if he hadn't just materialized out of the pond uninvited.

I didn't even know how long he'd been pretending to be a koi fish.

"You—!" I snatched my napkin and hurled it at him.

He caught it midair, grin widening, and proceeded to dry his dripping hair with it. "If you wanted me to stop, you could've just said so earlier. I would have complied."

Tsk.

He wasn't entirely wrong.

When Sedna began answering every benign question in concerningly deep detail, it had dawned on me that he was nearby, weaving his truth-enticing spell. And when I saw him in the pond, his violet hue was a dead giveaway. I'd used Illusion Magic to issue the command for him to stop. But by then, the damage was done.

A dark memory had already come to the surface, one that I imagined Sedna would have preferred kept buried.

As if reading my thoughts, Chase spoke, tone softening. "What she experienced is not all that unusual. If anything, it's quite common among the Awakened and Aware."

I frowned. "What is?"

"Being forced to study regardless of your personal desires," Chase replied. He produced a proper bath towel from thin air and began drying himself off. "And it's understandable, really. Imagine if you knew your child would go back in time, with all their memories intact. You'd want them to be prepared, to know all the best places to invest and what pitfalls to avoid. To return in time a genius. And for that, you'd be willing to sacrifice their present for a better past... and eventual bright future."

Ah.

"Did you experience that as well?" I asked carefully.

However, Chase didn't reply. He merely smiled, and shrugged before replacing his blue goggles with a flick of his wrist for his usual pair of circular reflective shades.

Did Queen Yadana Daylan know her son was an Awakened? Did the Paragons of Rahosm Temple?

I couldn't relate.

My upbringing had been the exact opposite. For better or for worse, my family allowed me to live without any restraints or pressures. No demands to study, no looming expectations to excel. And ultimately, there had been no preparation for these loops.

Now, ironically, I was the one pushing myself to exhaustion, studying Chaos until my mind was dizzy. The future of the realm was on my shoulders. Yet that pressure was of my own making. My own choice.

I exhaled.

I felt genuinely sorry for Sedna.

Truth be told, a part of me had wanted to test her—which was why I hadn't immediately ordered Chase to end his spell once I realized what he was doing. During these loops, I had uncovered too many betrayals and my guard was up. The latest one, Remlend's, under orders from Sedna's house of all people, had left me particularly on edge.

But Sedna Ozeryn was not one of them. She was the rarest kind of person: someone who had suffered immensely and still managed to radiate grace. A true angel.

Guilt gnawed at me.

I'd peeked uninvited into one of her most painful memories.

Damn it.

I sighed, the sound carrying faintly over the rippling pond where the other real koi fish swam.

I'll make it up to her. Somehow. I'm going to have to make it up to her. Yes, I'll obtain a proper and complete cure. An end to any and all suffering.

Having decided, my gaze shifted toward Chase.

And as for him.... Sometimes I forgot just how muddled his moral compass was.

But perhaps his ability could do some good as well. Maybe I could get his assistance at helping my understand Claude Noire's thoughts better.

The thought had barely finished forming when Chase clapped his hands together, breaking the silence.

"Well then…" Chase snapped his fingers.

In an instant a long silk robe enveloped him. It was embroidered and glossy enough to pass as proper, though slightly eccentric, evening wear for a formal party, much like the one taking place in the royal palace right this very moment.

Yet instead of attending the grand celebration underway in the royal palace, he was here.

Chase walked over to the table, plucked a silver fork, and carved out a generous bite of buttercream cake straight from the serving platter.

"Mmh. Divine," he said through a mouthful. "The desserts in Adovoria's palace are incredible as they are, but after a bit of exercise?" He waved his fork in a lazy flourish. "Transcendent."

"I suppose what's done is done," I muttered the same resigned phrase I'd used the last time he'd pulled a stunt like this with Grandov. Or rather, with the Player inhabiting Grandov's body.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I exhaled, shaking my head.

Forget it. There's no use arguing with a mad warlock.

Instead, I changed the subject. "What brought you here? I heard you were looking for me some time back."

From what I gather, he'd gone around to every individual that had any conceivable relationship with me and inquired about my whereabouts.

"Ah—yes, that." He waved his fork dismissively, carving another line through the buttercream. "All resolved now. I'd come across something I wanted you to translate, but it no longer matters. My sister's having the time of her life deciphering it, and I wouldn't dare rob her of the joy of a good puzzle."

I raised a brow. Chase said a lot, and yet his words held little meaning for me.

"As for why I'm here now…" Chase grinned, fork poised over the cake again, his appetite suddenly reminding me of Leona. "Why, to see you, of course—and for the cake."

He took another forkful into his mouth. "I'm a little hurt, you know. You didn't even tell me you were in town. If I hadn't followed Sedna out of sheer curiosity, I might've missed you entirely."

So that's when he jumped into the pond.

But how did Julius miss seeing him? Or is that how powerful warlocks are?

I blinked.

Then again, Julius was a powerful mage, but he was also as sharp as a marble.

Or... he correctly perceived that Chase was of no danger to me.

"Apophis, did you catch him slip into the pond?" I inquired using Illusionary Whisper.

~Of course. What do you take me for, Master?

I frowned.

Whether the snake was bluffing to cover for his own lapse or had seen Chase but chosen not to alert me, I wasn't sure which was more concerning.

I sighed quietly and reached for the teapot, pouring what little remained into my cup.

"Have you been well?" I asked finally, deciding to let the rest of the thoughts settle, for now at least.

"Never better!" Chase replied cheerfully. "I've been spreading the good word of my temple. My goal is to expand across all eleven nations—two million followers by the year's end."

Ah yes. The Paragons of Rahosm. His so-called temple. A cult obsessed with divine finance and prosperity through donation tiers.

One could call it a scam, except Chase seemed intent on providing the cult's followers with actual revelations that they could utilize for profit.

"You really have no interest in the throne?" I inquired. "You mentioned once that you've ruled before."

The Daylan Dynasty sat between the Adovorian Kingdom and the Kobar Empire. It was a buffer, a shield against their expected onslaught. Having a friend on that throne, even one as unpredictable and insane as Chase, was preferable to a stranger.

He shook his head, licking a smear of frosting from his thumb. "It's precisely because I've ruled before that I don't wish to do it again. Being king is tedious, Luca. Endless meetings, endless groveling. Paperwork. I much prefer being worshiped for a handful of lucrative prophecies a year. It's vastly easier and more entertaining."

I sighed.

I suppose a warlock cult leader with international reach and an army of fanatics was, admittedly, useful in his own way.

"It would've been nice to have a friend ruling those lands," I explained, putting it out in the open, in case our friendship was enough to sway him.

"Oh, don't be so glum," Chase replied, entirely unmoved. "My dear sister Deanna will sit on the throne soon enough. And she'll make a far better ruler than I ever could."

I frowned. "Isn't she the second or third youngest Daylan royal?"

Given that a dozen siblings stood ahead of her—older, more connected, more established—her odds of taking the crown were slim. On her own, that is.

"The second youngest," Chase corrected. "Her twin brother was born first. But that's of no concern. I'm having the red carpet to the throne rolled out for her as we speak."

He plucked one of the raspberries from the top of the cake and plopped it in his mouth.

"A red—?" I began, and then realization struck.

Ah.

Chase's smile widened, and I felt a shiver run through my body. "I've already removed two obstacles. Only nine remain. And I imagine dear Desmond will be courteous enough to step aside for his twin sister."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"How are we pacing?" Evelyn inquired.

She had stepped away from the banquet tables to accept a glass of water and reorient with Duncan about the evening's schedule. While the banquet was a celebratory occasion, its usefulness depended on the connections and conversations that developed through it.

"We're right on schedule," Duncan replied, unfolding a small diagram. "I've arranged the remainder of your table rounds in order of priority, starting with the ministers in Nales most inclined to sway the vote regarding trade restrictions. Here are their names, portraits, and notable topics to cover."

Evelyn glanced at him over the rim of her glass, amused by his seriousness.

For a man once cast into exile and living as a vagabond, Duncan Genuiver possessed an unnervingly sharp instinct for politics. His knack for reading people—and, somewhat disturbingly, for sensing the blood on their hands—had proven invaluable for identifying assassins in the palace and weeding out unworthy criminals from her employment and connections.

She was about to comment on the schedule when a cool, confident voice interrupted.

"Princess Evelyn, I hear congratulations are in order."

Evelyn turned, her attention pulled from Duncan's careful diagrams to the newcomer standing a few steps away.

Princess Deanna Daylan, the youngest daughter of the late Queen Yadana Daylan, regarded her with a smile. Though she had lived fewer years, her reputation—and the list of her accomplishments—towered over most of her elder siblings.

Deanna was striking with a unique form of beauty. Her skin was ghost-pale, her hair black as oil and sleek as glass, falling like a long curtain down her back and past her chest. These features were only further enhanced by the deep crimson of her painted lips and the matching gown, a sheen of dark silk that shimmered with every movement like wine being poured.

With Queen Yadana dead and buried, the criteria and guard rails on the rules of succession had flown out the window. What mattered most now was who had the strongest backers and alliances. According to Micah's latest report, provided just before the banquet's start, two of the Daylan royals had already been quietly eliminated, though the news had yet to reach the public.

Princess Deanna's red lips curved. "When is the wedding day?"

"Mid-spring of the coming year," Evelyn replied with a polite smile. "You are, of course, invited."

Whether Deanna would live to attend was another question entirely, given the blood bath the Daylan royals were swimming in. However, Evelyn maintained her smile, hiding the morbid thought behind a graceful tilt of her head.

"I'll be certain to attend," Deanna said. "Though from what I've heard from a few of the old farts—" her voice lowered with amused disdain, "this is a love match, isn't it? Rather than one of political convenience?"

Evelyn blinked, caught momentarily off guard by the other princess's bluntness. Then again, Daylan royals were famous for their lack of filter. Queen Yadana's children were as sharp-tongued as they were ambitious, having rarely faced the consequences of their words or actions.

"Indeed," Evelyn said after a moment, her composure restored. "It is a love marriage."

Deanna's crimson lips curved. "How rare and how romantic. It's like something out of a Jill Coiles novel."

The remark drew an unguarded smile from Evelyn. She was equally familiar with that author herself.

Evelyn chuckled softly, lowering her voice. "Our story isn't quite as scandalous as one of Coiles' plots. Micah and I were good friends long before anything romantic began. It happened naturally."

"No grand romantic gestures then?" Deanna pressed, arching a black brow. "There must have been one. I'd argue that romantic feelings blossoming between good friends is far more dangerous. When love grows out of friendship, someone always has to leap first… and risk losing both."

Evelyn's gaze drifted across the room, finding Micah through the crowd. He stood beside a table of individuals hailing from Lellei Kingdom, laughing lightly mid-conversation.

No doubt in regards to new weapons that would help tilt the scales of power in the soon-to-be revolution.

"I suppose," she murmured, smiling faintly, "there was such a leap. A grand gesture."

Not that she could ever tell the tale. Especially not to a Daylan royal, if she wished to avoid a political disaster and possibly an all-out war.

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