Hate me, Miss Witch!

Empire Capital, Inner City District, Royal Palace.

The afterglow of dusk streamed through the glass windows, casting dappled patterns of light across the grand halls and reflecting from the marble floors.

In front of a large silver mirror, Isadella gazed at her reflection.

The black and crimson military uniform, adorned with gold threads that etched the patterns of the Black Vulture, exuded an aura of authority and elegance.

Her platinum hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. Its signature silver hue was a symbol exclusive to the royalty of the Fresta Empire, a tradition dating back to ancient times.

"Your Highness, you seem to have changed a lot these past few months," Dyres commented playfully, standing behind Isadella, dressed in a courtly gown and holding an elegant ribbon.

With a flick of her nimble fingers, Dyres gathered Isadella's cascading silver hair.

As Isadella's secret subordinate, Dyres was more than familiar with her immediate superior.

However, ever since Shiayar Egutt had disappeared in the Knowledge City three months ago, Dyres had noticed significant changes in the Second Princess she served.

While her dignity and authority remained unchanged before outsiders, once they departed, she would often gaze into the distance, lost in solitary thought.

SNAP.

The ribbon secured with a crisp sound, and the waterfall of silver hair was gathered into a high ponytail, revealing Isadella's swan-like, snowy neck.

"For the imperial succession ceremony, this attire might be a tad too plain," Dyres observed, assessing the princess in the mirror.

"I recall the Royal Family employs attendants and dressmakers specializing in aristocratic etiquette."

"Given the importance of the succession ceremony, why didn't Your Highness let those professionals handle it..."

"It's not necessary."

Her cool words echoed in the empty royal hall, cutting Dyres's suggestion short.

The silver-haired princess looked at her own reflection in the mirror.

"If I allowed other men to dress me, and they touched my body in the process..."

"He wouldn't say anything, but I know he'd be somewhat displeased," she mused. "I don't want to make him unhappy."

A faint smile touched Isadella's lips.

She recalled again that moment from the corrected history: the dark-haired, dark-eyed youth bidding her farewell on the black iron throne.

Hearing Isadella's words, Dyres blinked.

She, too, remembered the Second Princess's declaration during the council meeting regarding her future husband.

"Are you referring to Student Shiayar?" Dyres inquired.

Isadella nodded frankly. "Of course."

"It can't be helped; he's just such a frighteningly possessive and greedy fellow."

"He wouldn't even allow me to develop feelings for his alternate identity, insisting on returning across a thousand years to personally tear that identity apart. And I... I'm so fond of him," she added, her voice trailing off tenderly.

Listening to the princess's utterly candid confession, a subtle light flickered in Dyres's eyes.

As the one who had connected the Second Princess and Shiayar Egutt, Dyres knew nearly everything about their interactions in this life, having even been personally involved at times.

That was precisely why the princess's current transformation surprised her.

She was not Legendary, so she naturally had no way of knowing what had secretly transpired three months ago.

But surely, it must have been a profoundly memorable past, one that transformed their relationship from merely being allies bound by mutual trust to this unwavering love.

Quickly, Dyres lowered her head, casually adjusting the insignia on Isadella's military uniform, careful not to let the emotions in her eyes be seen.

She chuckled. "Knowing how petty Student Shiayar can be, he might object not only to your interactions with other men but even to your contact with me," she teased.

The joke, meant to mask the turmoil in her eyes, had barely left her lips when she heard that calm yet authoritative voice by her ear again.

"I've considered that as well," Isadella said.

"So, after he and I marry, you can resign from your duties in the Swordbearer Organization and come with me..."

Dyres paused. "Your Highness is as imperious as ever, deciding your subordinate's entire future so casually."

"However, if not for Your Highness, I would likely have been buried in the Abyss long ago. There would be no Succubus Queen Dyres today."

She smiled faintly. "Since it is Your Highness's command, your subordinate will naturally obey. Whether as a handmaiden, or even as Student Shiayar's concubine or mistress, it matters not."

"That won't be necessary. Although I saved you once in the Abyss, you spied for me at St. Roland Academy for a long time and helped me recruit someone like Shiayar. That debt has long been repaid."

"Besides, I know he dislikes the Empire's current rigid master-servant conventions."

Isadella didn't look at Dyres as she spoke; instead, she kept her gaze on her own image in the mirror.

"The greatest difference between the Succubus Royal Family and ordinary succubi is that the latter can only grow stronger by siphoning others' Desire Power..."

"Whereas members of the Succubus Royal Family can not only infiltrate people's dreams to steal Desire Power, they can also create their own dreams and draw strength from their own emotions."

"And if I'm not mistaken, you've just broken through to 6-Ring, haven't you?"

Dyres paused for a moment, then instinctively nodded.

"A pure white unicorn only forms a pact with a maiden of pure heart... If you were truly like your kin in the Abyss, growing stronger by indiscriminately siphoning Desire Power from others, your pact with the pure white unicorn would have shattered by now."

"But I know your 1st Soul Pact remains intact."

"In other words, for you to advance from 3-Ring to 6-Ring in just over half a year—"

"The only explanation is that during this time, you've constantly been using someone as the subject to weave your own dreams."

"And these are daydreams brimming with desire."

A faint smile touched Isadella's lips.

"So— Dyres, do you really intend to refuse?"

As she spoke, the magnificent hall fell into a brief silence.

"Your Highness is truly perceptive," Dyres finally said with a wry smile after a long pause.

"Those schemers have been speculating that Your Highness only possesses the power of a Throne contender due to the Sacred Sword's protection..."

"But now, it seems they are in for a rude awakening."

Their brief conversation ended, and Dyres and Isadella lapsed into silence once more.

Silence returned to the hall, broken only by the soft rustle of Isadella adjusting her attire.

A long while later, the solemn, ancient tolling of bells from a distant church finally broke the silence.

The silver-haired princess stepped away from the full-length mirror. A flicker of nostalgia crossed her eyes as she accepted the pitch-black coat Dyres handed her.

Then, donning it, she turned and exited the room.

"What of the heretical cult from the Lost Realm? What is the status of their members who have secretly infiltrated the Empire's borders?"

Dyres followed a step behind and replied softly, "Those heretics who infiltrated from abroad have been under constant surveillance by the Military Department and the Jurisdiction Bureau."

"Some are connected to the oath-sworn families and entered through channels controlled by those nobles, but they are also under our control."

"However, they mostly linger in the outer district of the Empire Capital and have not attempted to enter the Inner City District where the Royal Palace is located."

Ever since Shiayar Egutt went missing, the Swordbearer Organization within the Empire Capital has been overseen by her.

That was why Dyres also had a meticulous understanding of the recent activities of the various evil cults.

"I suspect... they have other arrangements within the Inner City District, perhaps even inside the Royal Palace itself."

"However, their communication methods seem to exceed the Empire's current technological capabilities. We've been unable to definitively locate their contacts within the Inner City District."

"It seems not everyone within the Royal Family is of one mind."

Isadella's remark was soft, almost a murmur to herself.

Yet, to Dyres, walking a step behind, the chilling killing intent in that murmur sent a shiver down the Succubus Queen's spine.

But then, she saw all traces of killing intent and coldness vanish from the eyes of the Second Princess before her.

Isadella gazed at a crystal hairpin in her hand.

A rare flicker of hesitation appeared in those crimson eyes.

After much deliberation, she finally inserted it into her hair.

Dyres's eyes widened in surprise.

"Your Highness..."

Knowing the princess, Isadella was typically one to avoid makeup and adornment.

Her usual attire was either dictated by courtly etiquette or chosen because the accessories themselves were marvels of magic and alchemy, possessing practical functions; she never wore purely ornamental, frivolous items.

If that were not the case, she wouldn't have worn the Black Vulture military uniform day in and day out for years.

This crystal hairpin, however, was unrelated to ritual items or alchemical technology; it was purely decorative.

This was the first time Dyres had seen the Princess before her display such a girlish fondness for beauty.

This Isadella didn't seem like a princess on the verge of ascending the Empire's throne. Rather, she resembled a young woman smitten with love, anxiously fussing over accessories at her dressing table, her thoughts on her beloved.

"It's a long-awaited reunion with him. I want to show him my most perfect self."

"This information came from Miss Silvia, and I think he might prefer this type of hair ornament."

Isadella spoke coolly, as if she had seen through Dyres's thoughts.

Dyres was momentarily stunned but quickly recovered.

She exclaimed in pleasant surprise, "Student Shiayar has contacted Your Highness?"

Since Her Royal Highness had already pointed out her little secret, Dyres dropped the pretense, unconcealed joy in her voice.

"No."

"However," Isadella continued, "since he fancies himself 'the hero who will definitely save you if you cry out for help'..."

The two walked through the silent palace corridors, heading towards the Throne Room.

"...then on an occasion like today, he surely will not be absent."

Her conviction seemed to lack any basis, yet Isadella believed it unconditionally.

Just as he had appeared before her like a gust of wind a thousand years ago.