The next day arrived like a blade sliding from its sheath.
Ash had Thalion settle the twins in temporary palace quarters, nothing permanent yet; he had greater plans for them. Now he sat alone in the vast throne room of Velora, true appearance unveiled.
Black-white hair fell in messy strands to his neck, sharp, sculpted features catching the light that spilled through high arched windows, golden-pink eyes glowing faintly in the half-shadow.
King Alaric was dead.
From this day forward, the mask would stay buried with the rest of the corpses....
He flicked through lesser stele reports he had ignored for weeks, lazy swipes of one finger pulling glowing panes of light into the air. One name stopped him cold.
’So, he hit A rank already?’
A rare frown creased Ash’s face. According to the novel, Kale should still be scraping the peak of B-rank, nowhere near forming his Soul Brand for another fifty Chapters. Yet here it was, weeks early, before he had even stepped foot in Solace.
A Change.
Ash hated a change he couldn’t understand. He had avoided the protagonist precisely because he knew any little thing could alter the original timeline.
Now Ash wasn’t dense at all. He knew novel tropes; someone was always helping the protagonist.... It was rare to find a protagonist truly claw for everything all while rising fast.
And Kale
He was rising too fast.
Someone or.... something, was accelerating the Kale’s path, and the original story had never named nor teased the puppet master.
’I need to know what or who....’
His thoughts shattered as Thalion entered and bowed.
"Your Majesty, Queen Sonna has arrived."
Ash leaned back, one brow raised. "Tell her I’m waiting."
Thalion hesitated. "Shouldn’t you receive her at the gates, Your Majesty?"
Ash almost laughed. "She’s visiting my kingdom. I don’t move for guests."
Thalion bowed again and vanished to deliver the message.
Outside, the royal carriage rolled to a stop beneath floating lanterns. Inside, Queen Sonna smoothed invisible wrinkles from her gown, painted the perfect smile across exhausted features, and stepped into the light as though she hadn’t sold another piece of her soul the night before.
Yonna watched from the opposite seat, arms crossed, jaw tight. She had watched this performance for months, watched the sister she once idolized hollow herself out one king at a time. Their masks were different, but they wore them all the same: Sonna’s painted porcelain, Yonna’s forged steel.
Three years younger, Yonna had once trailed after Sonna like a shadow, wide-eyed and adoring.
In the old Voss Kingdom, bloodline rank decided everything. Sonna awakened a B-rank bloodline, something seen as blasphemy to their clan and was cast out like refuse. Yonna, gifted an S-rank bloodline and a handful of rare talents, was groomed as the family’s future.
Sonna became a maid in some forgotten corner of Elaris.
Yonna became the Voss Kingdom’s weapon.
Then the war came. Not a wager, not a duel but a real war. Cities burned. Armies clashed until the rivers ran red. When the smoke cleared, Yonna and a handful of survivors were all that remained of the once-proud Voss lineage.
They rebuilt from ashes over decades, scraping together a new kingdom with broken swords and borrowed names.
When the sisters reunited at last, they were two scarred women holding pieces of shattered pasts.
But the Sonna who returned was already changing. She seduced guards for practice, teased nobles for secrets, and when Kale came of age, took her own son to bed without a flicker of shame.
By Elaris’s loose standards it was barely scandalous, yet to Yonna it was the day the sister she worshipped died for good.
After that.... came kingdom after kingdom, crown after crown, each one bought with Sonna’s body and justified with the same hollow words: "For my son."
Yonna still loved her...
.... Yet, she still hated what she had become.
However, she still followed, because blood was the one chain neither of them had ever managed to break.
----
"Tsk. Are you sure this King Alaric is even worth the effort?" Yonna muttered, voice laced with worry disguised as mockery. "He’s married, you know."
"Queen Sara hasn’t been seen in weeks," Sonna answered lightly, already stepping down from the carriage. "You should know a widow’s throne is still a throne."
Yonna’s fist clenched until knuckles went white.
"It won’t take long," Sonna added, softer now. "A few hours."
The painted smile held until her back was turned. The moment her feet touched Velora marble, the mask cracked and fell away, leaving only a flat, dead-eyed stare fixed on the palace doors ahead.
She walked alone toward the man waiting inside, the Black Lotus already beginning to bloom beneath her skin.