Chapter 19 — Laughter Beneath the Lanterns, Shadows Behind the Door.
Evening settled over the First Princess’s villa like a gentle curtain, and beneath it, the celebration bloomed in full. Laughter rose and fell in waves. Music drifted through open halls, carried by the soft night breeze. Servants moved between guests with trays of food and drink, while lanterns swayed lightly overhead, their warm glow turning the marble paths and garden stones into something almost dreamlike.
“Ray…” Sylvaris leaned closer, cheeks faintly flushed, cup lifted lazily in her hand. “You’ve mastered the three forms already. So tell me—have you finally become strong like me?”
Rynvaris let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Ah… I’m only a Level Two Miki user. Don’t joke around like that, sis.”
“I am not joking!” Sylvaris protested at once. She straightened, pride shining through the haze of celebration. “When I was your age, I had only mastered two forms.” She took a bold sip from her cup. “Two. Not three.”
“Your Highness,” Head Maid Layra stepped in quickly, worry etched across her face, “you really should stop drinking.”
“Layra,” Rynvaris said gently, raising her cup just enough to tease, “it’s a small victory. Winning against my little sister isn’t exactly a grand conquest.” Her smile softened. “But this moment—this joy—it won’t come again in the same way. So… you can drink too.”
Layra stiffened. “Your Highness, I—”
“Just a little,” Rynvaris added, already taking a sip.
“Your Highness Rynvaris,” Layra sighed, clearly losing the battle, “at least stop drinking that fruit juice. It still has wine mixed into it.”
Rynvaris hummed, then lifted her cup higher and spoke in a light, almost singing tone,
“We don’t drink every day—
la la—only when we win ?
So why hush the tune, why still the cheer,
when the wine yet hums,
when the cup still rings?” ????
Sylvaris burst into laughter. “No… no, this—this isn’t matching the song at all,” she said between breaths.
“Who cares,” Rynvaris replied, waving her hand. “Just drink.”
Nearby, a few servants tried—and failed—to hide their smiles. Layra herself finally let out a quiet laugh, covering her mouth.
“Layra…” Sylvaris squinted at her. “Why are you laughing? She just sang the great song.”
“That is exactly why, Your Highness,” Layra said, smiling despite herself.
The music swelled again. Cups clinked. Laughter echoed through the villa’s halls as the night deepened, wrapping the celebration in warmth and careless joy.
For now, they were simply enjoying themselves.
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But inside the Twelfth Princess’s chamber, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Curtains were drawn tight, sealing the room away from the laughter echoing through the villa. The air smelled sharply of medicine and burnt mana. Pale light from a hovering sigil washed over the bed where Arwyn lay, her breathing shallow, skin still marked with faint traces of Miki backlash.
The royal physician stood beside her, murmuring a low incantation. Blue-white threads of magic flowed from his palms, sinking into Arwyn’s body as he carefully guided the healing process. A bowl of dark liquid rested nearby—bitter medicine, still steaming.
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Arwyn clenched her fingers against the sheets.
“Brother…” her voice trembled, thin and edged with frustration. “I never thought she would still have Miki left. That moment—just before the end—I felt it.” Her teeth ground together. “That’s why I lost.”
Draven stood near the window, arms folded, his expression carved from ice. He did not look at her at first.
“Forget the loss,” he said calmly, though something sharp hid beneath the words. “What matters is that she survived.”
He finally turned, eyes dark, calculating.
“I had prepared something to completely finish her,” he continued. “A clean end. No witnesses. No questions.” His jaw tightened. “But it seems I underestimated how fast she is growing.”
Arwyn’s hand trembled. “Brother… how?” Her voice cracked, anger bleeding through the weakness. “How did she become so strong in just a few days? She was never supposed to—”
Thud… thud…
The sound cut her off.
Knock, knock.
The physician stiffened. Before either sibling could speak—
Click… creaaak…
The door opened.
A woman in a black cloak slipped inside, her steps soundless. The hood obscured her face, shadow swallowing her features. The physician immediately lowered his head.
“I will take my leave, Your Highness,” he said quietly, gathering his tools. He did not look at the newcomer as he exited, closing the door behind him with care.
Silence settled.
“Your Highness,” the woman in black spoke at last, her voice calm, measured. “I may have an answer to your question. Though I cannot claim certainty.”
Arwyn’s eyes narrowed. “Speak.”
The woman inclined her head. “I saw Maid Layra enter the forest behind the Queen’s villa. The path she took leads only one place.” A pause. “I believe Rynvaris entered the Tabu of the First King.”
For a heartbeat, the room was still.
Then Draven’s composure shattered.
“…Damn that half-blood,” he snarled, the words sharp with undisguised hatred. His fist struck the wall, the sound echoing dully. “So she dared to step into that place.”
Arwyn’s breathing quickened. “The Tabu…” Her lips curled. “So that’s it. That explains her growth in such a short time.”
Draven straightened slowly, anger settling into something colder, more dangerous. “Yes,” he said, voice low. “That cursed ground bends time, strength, fate itself. If she survived it…” A thin smile twisted his mouth. “Then she truly is becoming a problem.”
“If that’s true,” Arwyn said, forcing herself upright despite the pain, “then we need to know how many days she was there. Even a single extra—”
“No,” Draven interrupted. His tone was sharp, final. He turned to face her fully, eyes burning. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Arwyn froze.
“Tomorrow morning,” Draven continued softly, almost pleasantly, “she will either die… or be sent away to die.”
The woman in black lowered her head once more, silent.
Arwyn stared at her brother—then laughed, weak at first, then sharper.
“Hahaha…”
Draven joined her, his laughter colder, empty of joy.
“Hahaha…”
The sound filled the chamber, cruel and bitter, echoing against the stone walls as the night outside remained unaware.
Far away, laughter of a different kind still rang through the First Princess’s villa.
