Chapter 128 - - 128 - Shadows Within The Palace Walls

Chapter 128: Chapter - 128 - Shadows Within The Palace Walls

The heavy metal of the vault door ground open with a low, grinding moan that resonated through the stone corridor, spilling cool air and faint shadows into the passage outside. As soon as Lucien and Zyrelle stepped across the threshold, the flickering wall torches caught the figures of Anne and Erion waiting in the quiet corridor.

The moment Zyrelle caught sight of Anne standing there, her pulse spiked. A sudden wave of nervousness washed over her, making her freeze in her tracks. Even after everything that had transpired inside the dark chamber, the sheer presence of Anne—with her sharp eyes and quiet, terrifying authority—sent a jittery current of anxiety straight down Zyrelle’s spine.

"What are you two doing here?" Lucien asked, his tone level and unbothered as his eyes moved calmly between them.

"Well, you two didn’t come where we had to meet, so what was taking so long?" Anne asked, tilting her head slightly. A knowing, dangerous glint sparked in her eyes as she looked between Lucien and the flustered girl beside him.

"We got locked inside the vault for hours. That’s why we couldn’t get out," Lucien replied smoothly, his demeanor completely unruffled.

"Ye-yeah... that’s exactly what happened," Zyrelle echoed hastily, her voice rising a pitch too high. She tried desperately to keep her posture straight, but her restless hands gave her away.

"Yeah, I can understand. After all, these vaults are quite tricky," Anne said, letting out a soft laugh that carried a heavy layer of unspoken amusement. She didn’t press the matter immediately, but the arch of her eyebrow made it abundantly clear that she didn’t believe a word of their excuse.

Lucien didn’t dwell on the exchange. Turning his gaze toward the quiet Erion standing in the shadow of the doorframe, he issued a calm order. "Erion, go and collect the remaining coins inside the eternal void box."

"Yes, Lord Lucien," Erion replied instantly, bowing his head in deep reverence.

He moved past them into the vault to gather the remaining fortune scattered across the floor. As he knelt on the cold stone, sweeping the heavy gold pieces into the container, he did not noticed that several of the coins near the far corner were slick and damp—stained by the lingering trace of his own fiancée’s intimate submission to their lord. Yet, without a single word or hesitation, Erion meticulously wiped and collected every last one.

While Erion completed his task inside, Lucien, Anne, and Zyrelle stepped down the stone corridor to wait. The silence between them felt heavy, but Anne didn’t let it last. Closing the distance with quiet, deliberate footsteps, Anne leaned in until her lips nearly brushed against the shell of Zyrelle’s ear.

"So..." Anne whispered softly, her sweet voice laced with heavy, playful malice. "Were you able to take his weapon in completely?"

Zyrelle’s breath hitched in her throat. A violent, burning flush rushed up her neck, painting her cheeks a fiery scarlet. She stumbled back a half-step, her arms fluttering in frantic panic as her mind reeled from the sudden, shameless question.

"Ah—my lady! We... we didn’t—!" Zyrelle stammered, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "It wasn’t... we were just trapped!"

Anne let out a quiet, melodic chuckle, enjoying every second of the girl’s sheer embarrassment. She leaned in a little closer, her eyes glittering with relentless amusement. "Oh, come on now. Do you really think I can’t tell what took you two so long in the dark? You both were so deeply into each other that you completely lost track of time. Look at the way you’re standing... I can tell he took your purity, top to bottom."

Zyrelle swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She looked down at the flagstones, thoroughly exposed and helpless under Anne’s sharp gaze, before her eyes darted back up with a mixture of trembling fear and desperate confusion. "Aren’t... aren’t you angry, Lady Anne?"

"Angry?" Anne paused, her expression softening into a look of genuine, effortless indifference. She looked at Zyrelle’s flushed face and raised a hand, dismissively waving the thought away. "No, why would I be angry? You should live your life as you want. As long as you enjoyed it, that’s really all that matters."

Anne straightened up, letting out another light laugh before turning her back on the embarrassed girl. She shifted her attention to Lucien, her tone turning practical yet lingering with satisfaction. "So, what’s your plan next? We’ve completely emptied Prince Rumil’s treasure. When he finds out, he’s going to be super mad."

"Don’t worry. Now you don’t have to do anything," Lucien said, his eyes brimming with absolute control. "My next plan has already been set in motion. Now, you should just watch and enjoy it."

Far across the grand palace grounds, Aelene stood inside the bustling healing sanctuary, tending to injured guards and sickly cultivators alongside Besriel and a few other realm masters. The air was thick with the scent of crushed medicinal herbs, bitter salves, and soothing incense. Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors swung open, and Aelvera strode into the central hall, her sweeping cloak rustling against the stone floor.

Aelene paused, setting down a linen bandage. "Aelvera, it’s been a while. Did you find anything about the man-eater?" she asked, her voice carrying an anxious, tender concern.

"It seems like he is not in the healing sanctuary anymore," Aelvera answered tightly, her brows drawn in frustration.

Aelene wiped a faint smear of ointment from her fingers, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What? I thought you were entirely sure that the man-eater was hiding somewhere inside the sanctuary, and that it was a human who was killing the other realm masters."

"We were," Aelvera admitted grimly, shaking her head. "But now we have new information, and perhaps he is operating in a completely different area now. We apologize for whatever trouble and distress was caused because of us, but given the circumstances, we had to suspect everyone."

"No problem, we understand," Aelene replied with a gentle sigh of relief. She let out a small breath she seemed to have been holding. "So the healing sanctuary is safe now, I’m assuming? Finally, I can leave. I’ve been stuck inside here for so many days."

Aelvera quickly briefed her on the updated security measures across the estate before turning and taking her leave, leaving Aelene alone amidst the quiet hum of the ward.

Aelene watched her go, her mind immediately shifting toward the evening ahead. She was planning to meet Prince Rumil tonight. It had been far too long since they had sat down for a peaceful dinner together, and Lucien had specifically instructed her that she ought to go and keep the prince company.

However, before meeting Rumil, there was another person she needed to see first: Prince Andrin.

For the past few days, Andrin had been giving her the cold shoulder, barely speaking to her and actively ignoring her presence whenever she walked by. His distance had stemmed from the shock of catching her secretly performing oral favors on Lucien’s massive weapon—though in his ignorance, Andrin does not know who the man was.

Yet over the last two days, his attitude had shifted again, and he had started talking to her once more. When Aelvera had first announced that a man-eater might be lurking among the healers, Prince Rumil had flown into a panic, issuing strict commands that no one was allowed to leave the sanctuary until the killer was found. Aelene could easily have bypassed those orders—she was Prince Rumil’s fiancée, after all—but she had deliberately insisted on staying behind to care for her patients during the lockdown. Rumil had been furious at her stubbornness, viewing it as a lack of devotion to him. But because she remained trapped inside the sanctuary, Prince Andrin had no choice but to interact with her again, unable to leave the perimeter himself.

In the beginning, Andrin had been tortured by profound horror and self-loathing. Waking up from blackouts to find innocent people slaughtered around him had disgusted him to his very core. He had believed he was a monster losing control of his own hands, unaware of the reality—that he hadn’t killed those early victims at all. It had been Anne and Norrik executing people in secret, framing Andrin under Lucien’s precise orders to break his mind.

But the dark, parasitic seed that Lucien had planted deep within Andrin’s soul had done its work with terrifying efficiency. Bit by bit, the parasite rewrote his thoughts, twisting his guilt into something dark, violent, and intoxicating. When he began practicing demonic cultivation to master the strange power growing inside him, the shift became absolute.

The first time he truly killed a person with his own hands and drank their boiling blood, the rush of demonic energy surging through his meridian lines had brought him an ecstasy unlike anything he had ever felt. His cultivation skyrocketed in a single night. The sickening guilt vanished, replaced by an insatiable addiction. The blood, the terror in his victims’ eyes, the feeling of absolute dominance—it was a high he could no longer live without. He didn’t want to fix himself anymore. He wanted more blood.

Aelene walked down the narrow residential hall, stopped outside Andrin’s room, and knocked softly on the wood. A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door opened.

"Prince Andrin, it seems like Prince Rumil’s suspicion regarding the healing sanctuary has finally passed. You can go outside once again," Aelene said smoothly, her eyes brimming with gentle warmth. She played her part flawlessly, completely aware of Lucien’s master scheme while keeping Andrin entirely in the dark.

Andrin forced a polite, grateful smile onto his face, though behind his eyes lay a cold, lifeless void. "Thank you, Aelene, for so many things. Someday... I will properly thank you."

Yeah, someday I’ll thank you by ripping your throat out and drinking every last drop of your blood, you fucking whore, Andrin thought savagely behind his calm smile. He remembered seeing her on her knees in the dark, serving another man like a mindless pet, and the sheer hypocrisy of her gentle act filled him with disgust.

"And tonight, you will have to be here alone," Aelene added, lowering her head slightly with a touch of practiced, embarrassed charm. "Prince Rumil is angry with me, and I want to go to him, apologize, and have dinner with him so his mood can improve. After all... he is my fiancé."

"Don’t worry, you can leave everything to me," Andrin replied smoothly, his tone light and cooperative. "I’ll just stay here and cultivate. I won’t step outside unless it’s strictly necessary."

I’ve been playing dead and lying low in this pathetic room for far too long, Andrin’s mind roared with dark excitement the moment her back turned. I can’t wait for the sun to drop. The very first blood I drink tonight will be that bitch Aelvera’s. She’s been hunting me down like an animal for days... let’s see how she bleeds when I tear her apart.

"Also, Prince Andrin," Aelene paused at the threshold, turning back with a look of deep, sisterly concern. "If you ever want to share anything with me, I will gladly listen. If anything is bothering you, please tell me. And... did you ever get your memories back?"

"Of course I’ll tell you if I ever run into trouble," Andrin lied, his expression remaining completely placid. "And no, I haven’t gotten my memories back yet."

In truth, he no longer gave a damn about his past or his lost memories. The parasite nestled within his sea of consciousness had utterly warped his mind, devouring his sanity until nothing remained except a burning desire for slaughter. He didn’t even remember who Lucien was anymore, nor did he care about politics, titles, or royal bloodlines. His mind was a ruined wasteland driven by a single, demonic instinct: to burn, butcher, and feed on every living soul that crossed his path. He had lost his mind completely.

Deep inside the western wing of the grand palace, Prince Rumil sat alone in the suffocating darkness of his private chambers. The curtains were drawn tight against the evening light, leaving only the dim, flickering amber glow of a dying hearth to illuminate the room. A crystal goblet filled with dark, bitter wine was clutched tightly in his hand.

He was drowning in a sea of tension, paranoia, and creeping despair, utterly paralyzed by his own helplessness.

Just hours ago, his royal father had summoned him to the high court—not to offer counsel, but to deliver a crushing blow. The Emperor had looked down at him with cold, unyielding disgust, declaring openly that he was deeply disappointed in Rumil’s spineless leadership. Even worse, whispers had already spread through the palace corridors that the Emperor was seriously considering abandoning Rumil altogether, turning his gaze toward Princess Lysandra as the true heir to the Azurefall throne.

Rumil’s reputation had become a pathetic joke. Once hailed as the golden prince of the empire, he could no longer enforce his own authority. The court nobles, who used to bow until their foreheads touched the floor, now looked at him with subtle pity and hidden contempt. The moment the court realized the Emperor was withdrawing his favor and leaning toward Lysandra, the shift in power had been instantaneous.

When Rumil had flown into a panic over the man-eater and ordered the guard to execute every single human in the healing sanctuary just to be safe, no one had obeyed him. Not a single commander had raised a blade. They had simply stalled, ignored his frantic commands, and waited for the Emperor’s council to step in. The realization that his word meant nothing anymore was driving him insane.

He stared blankly into his wine, his breathing ragged. He couldn’t comprehend how his life had fallen apart so quickly. He had been trying so hard lately. After meeting Lucien—whom he still foolishly revered as his greatest idol and truest friend, Axel—Rumil had thrown himself into intense cultivation, trying desperately to grow stronger, wiser, and more ruthless. But instead of succeeding, his mind was completely overwhelmed by chaos.

When he needed emotional support the most, his own fiancée, Aelene, had abandoned him. When he asked her to stand by his side, she had stubbornly chosen to stay in the healing sanctuary to look after common, nameless patients instead of comforting her prince. And Axel—the only man whose strength Rumil truly respected—was nowhere to be found, completely consumed with hunting down the elusive man-eater. Rumil felt utterly isolated, abandoned by his court, his father, his fiancée, and his best friend.

Suddenly, a hesitant knock echoed against the heavy double doors of his chamber, breaking the heavy silence.

"Prince Rumil..." a timid servant called out from the hallway, seeking permission to enter. "Lady Aelene is here to meet you."

Sitting in the shadows, Prince Rumil’s despairing expression instantly shifted.