A Certain Multiverse's Holy Right

Princess Alice Louise of Navarre, the daughter of the House of Gordon, better known as Alice the White Princess, was deeply regretting her actions.

As Roy had pointed out, she had been testing the new King by using her housekeeper as a probe. She thought she had hidden her actions well, observing from the sidelines in her ethereal form to get a firsthand understanding of the King's personality and methods beyond the cold, impersonal intelligence reports.

However, to her dismay, Roy had seen through her ploy at a glance. Worse yet, he turned the tables on her, putting her in a situation she could no longer control.

Perhaps I've been influenced by years of dealing with Alexander and have forgotten what true Devil Kings are like, Alice thought with a wry smile.

Her familiarity with Alexander Gascoigne, the Black Prince, had dulled her instincts. While she had met other Campione, in fact she had met all of them. But she had met them only once, and hence it was Alexander's personality she had grown accustomed to—calm, calculative, and restrained. It had made her forget that Campione were, at their core, merciless beings who operated on their own unpredictable whims.

Now, all Alice could think about was how to save her devoted housekeeper, who had become a casualty of her misstep.

But before she could lower her pride and plead, Roy's Eyes of Sodom locked onto her.

"Your Majesty?!"

Even Erica and Liliana exclaimed in shock. Neither had expected Roy to turn his power on Alice. Wasn't her cooperation integral to his plans? Could her earlier actions have enraged him to the point of no return?

A flood of divine power emanated from Roy's eyes, targeting Alice's form. But to Erica and Liliana's surprise, she did not turn to salt. Instead, her figure dissipated like smoke, vanishing without a trace.

"It's an astral projection!" Liliana gasped, recognizing the technique immediately.

As a descendant of witches, she knew this art well. For witches, the highest level of witchcraft was the Art of Crossing Netherworld, the ability to traverse the spiritual plane known as the Netherworld. This realm served as the source of their clairvoyance and granted witches immense power.

Alice's astral projection was an even more advanced application of this art. Her mastery allowed her to seamlessly move between the material world and the Netherworld without expending much magic power.

"To use an astral projection to meet His Majesty... how utterly disrespectful!"

Erica's tone was sharp, and for once, her outrage seemed genuine. For Alice to send a mere projection to greet the King was a blatant insult. It trampled on Roy's dignity and authority, and in Erica's eyes, it reflected poorly on all of them as his retainers.

Liliana, too, felt a spark of indignation. She and Erica had pledged themselves as knights to their King. For Alice to treat their sovereign so casually was an affront not just to Roy, but to the honor of the Copper Black-Cross and Bronze Black-Cross alike.

"Let's go," Roy commanded, stepping over the salt-statue form of Alice's housekeeper. "Our princess is waiting for us on the fourth floor."

The housekeeper wasn't dead, but unless Roy chose to lift his curse or the salt statue shattered (in which case she would just die), her fate was sealed.

The grand residence exuded luxury. Located in Hampstead, one of London's most exclusive districts, it was surrounded by meticulously maintained gardens. Owning such a property was a privilege reserved for the aristocracy, and the Gordon family's centuries-old ties to the Crown were evident in the residence's opulence.

Though the house was teeming with maids and staff, all of them were ordinary humans. Seeing their employer's body mysteriously petrified into salt had reduced them to trembling bystanders. No one dared to stop Roy, Erica, or Liliana as they ascended the grand staircase leading to Alice's quarters.

On the fourth floor, behind a large wooden door, lay Alice's private sanctuary—a space off-limits to all but her most trusted attendants. But now, it was being forcibly breached by one man and two girls with him.

The solid oak door creaked open under Erica and Liliana's hands.

Inside was a room befitting a princess, decorated in a style both classic and elegant. Most striking of all was the four-poster bed, draped in translucent curtains. Behind the veil lay a faint silhouette, like that of a slumbering beauty waiting for her prince's kiss.

"King Roy, I must apologize for not greeting you in person," came Alice's voice from within the curtains. Though her tone was light and melodic, there was a subtle undercurrent of anger. "It is not out of disrespect, but my condition prevents me from receiving guests as I should. However, to bring such cruelty to a lady's abode is most ungentlemanly."

Her words were laced with reproach, though her weakened voice compared to before diminished the sting.

Her tone was elegant, but within that elegance there was a hint of anger, anger towards Roy the uninvited guest.

Roy remained silent, gesturing for Erica and Liliana to act. Erica stepped forward and pulled back the bed curtains, while Liliana fetched a chair for Roy to sit by the bedside.

The princess lay reclined on the bed, as delicate as porcelain. Her physical form was a shadow of her astral projection. Though her face retained its ethereal beauty, her body appeared frail, and her complexion was ghostly pale just like a patient after a surgery.

"Do you see now, King Roy?" Alice said with an elegant yet labored breath. "My condition is as you witness. I can barely leave this bed. Even simple movements exhaust me. I rely on constant care just to sustain my body's fragile health."

With visible effort, she adjusted herself to sit upright, clutching her blanket for support. While doing it she breathed heavily, as if even such a simple movement was very difficult for her.

Ever the knight, Erica stepped forward to assist her, arranging pillows behind Alice's back to help her sit more comfortably.

"Thank you," Alice murmured, offering a small, gracious smile. Her refined demeanor, even in her weakened state, carried an allure that seemed almost otherworldly.

Her platinum blonde hair, which had shimmered with life in her astral form, now appeared dull and lifeless. The brilliance of her aura was dampened by the shadow of mortality.

Roy studied her carefully. "You won't live long, Alice," he stated matter-of-factly, his tone devoid of malice but cutting nonetheless.

Her delicate hands, gripping the blanket, trembled slightly at his blunt words.

"Your body's functions are deteriorating. You may manage to cling to life for another decade at most. But by then, your body will wither completely, and you will perish at the peak of your youth."

He paused, his words hanging in the air like an inescapable truth.

"This is the fate of a beautiful flower—its bloom so vibrant yet so brief."