Chapter 299: Cunning criminal

"You know," Seraphina murmured, her head tilting slightly as a wry, knowing smile touched her lips, "if the Rujgard actually operated on merit, they would have crowned you their sole lord on the spot. For what you did there, you were arguably the most magnificent criminal their realm has seen."

"I assume that’s high-society slang for ’you’re a terrifying menace to public order’?"

"It is a fact," she replied softly. "Fabricating a play out of thin air... planting a single bomb, having Saintess trigger it from miles away at the precise second you pressed an empty trigger in front of three thousand lawless warlords. You convinced an entire territory that they were standing on a field of bombs. You made monsters surrender to a bluff."

"You’re hyping me up entirely too much," Eren laughed, casually reaching across the table to snag a warm butter pastry. "You’re making it sound like I’m a cold, calculating mastermind."

"What am I saying is that you’re too cunning for your own good," she replied, crossing her hands over her chest.

He took a bite of the pastry, then locked his blue eyes on hers with a warmth that made her pulse skip a beat.

"If being a cunning criminal keeps the blades away from you and the girls... I’ll happily play the worst devil this world has ever seen. Every single day of my life."

Seraphina froze.

The calm, collected mask of the imperial heir cracked right down the center. A brilliant, undeniable blush blossomed across the bridge of her nose. She hastily looked down into her teacup, trying to disguise the soft, fluttering stammer of her breath.

She got defeated again. No matter how calculated and cold she was, the moment he looked at her with that sincerity, her heart threw up the white flag without firing a single shot.

"You really are... the most intolerable man," Seraphina whispered into her tea, the fond, helpless smile breaking through her defenses anyway.

The double doors of the dining room creaked open.

Seraphina paused mid-sip, lowering her cup to witness the grand entrance of the Reedings estate’s elite delegation. Or, more accurately, the slow-motion arrival of three walking, breathing casualties of total war.

Aria dragged herself into the hall first, looking like a disgraced queen attending her own public trial. The haughty villainess pulled out the chair directly beside Eren, collapsed into it with a delicate groan, and immediately planted both elbows on the polished wood, burying her pounding temples into her hands.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Aria mumbled, her voice hollow and shivering with misery.

A second later, Norelia shuffled in. The petite professor pulled her chair out, sat down, and without a single word of greeting, simply let her upper body collapse straight forward. Her forehead met the table with a dull, hollow thunk, and she stayed there like a deflated pancake, refusing to rejoin the mortal plane.

Finally came the angel of death. Emma marched to the table with rigid, mechanical precision, looking straight ahead as if facing an imperial knight squad. When a maid cautiously offered her a cup of black coffee, she took it, not daring to tilt her head up. Her tanned cheeks were glowing red.

Eren leaned back in his chair, beaming with the bright, radiant energy of a golden retriever that had just inherited a meat locker.

"Good morning ladies!" Eren chimed cheerfully, taking a leisurely sip of his tea. "Have you all slept well?"

Emma’s jaw clamped shut so tight a vein bulged on her neck. She glared into her saucer, completely refusing to make eye contact with the man who had turned her into a puddle of undignified whimpers hours prior.

From the tabletop, Norelia let out a muffled, murderous groan. "Eren Volsver, I swear on my name... shut your mouth right now before I figure out a spell to vaporize my own existence."

Seraphina slowly raised a brow, her red eyes shifting between the three utterly decimated women with dry bewilderment.

"What in the heck happened to the three of you?" Seraphina asked, setting her teacup down with a light clatter. "You look as though you engaged a battalion of void-beasts in hand-to-hand combat."

"I hate myself," Aria whispered, her voice a tragic, melodramatic rasp from behind her trembling hands. "I am utterly, thoroughly unfit to inherit the ducal seat of Reedings. I am a disgrace to high society. I am formally petitioning to ban all alcohol from the Regular Empire."

Eren chuckled, reaching over with effortless, devastating tenderness. His fingers gently brushed her blue hair back, tucking a loose silk strand behind her ear.

"Nonsense, my sweet fiancée," Eren whispered, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth. "You make a magnificent Duchess. And personally? I think drunk Aria is a treasure. We should have alcohol for you every single night."

Aria snapped her head up, a brilliant crimson exploding across her cheeks. With zero genuine force, her fist came down in a weak, pathetic thud against his muscular chest.

"Shut up, you absolute idiot," she hissed under her breath, her golden eyes burning with mortified fury. "Shut your mouth."

"So ungrateful," Eren sighed playfully, leaning in until his breath touched her burning cheek. "Did you at least appreciate those portraits?"

Aria’s golden eyes narrowed into slits as she leaned close, whispering through gritted teeth so the servants wouldn’t hear, "I burned every single one of them, darling. Reduced to ash in the hearth. The record has been erased."

"Ouch," Eren winced, pressing a hand over his heart in mock grief. "Brutal. Truly heartless."

Then, his lips curved into that unhinged grin.

"Which is precisely why," Eren added, slipping two fingers into the pocket of his shirt, "I made sure to smuggle the single most breathtaking masterpiece out before the purge."

He pulled out a picture and held it up by the edge.

All three women froze.

The air vanished from the room. Norelia’s head snapped off the table like a startled gopher, her red eyes widening in absolute horror. Emma’s coffee cup rattled violently against its saucer. Aria’s jaw dropped in sheer, unadulterated shock.

"Wait—what is that?!" Emma gasped, lunging across the corner of the table with a warrior’s quick reflexes, her hand darting out to snatch the glossy card from his grip. "Give that here, Eren!"

"Ah-ah, Captain! No looting at the breakfast table," Eren laughed brightly, tossing his arm straight up into the air.

With his height and long reach, he easily kept the card high above the table, well out of reach. Aria scrambled onto her knees on her chair, swatting desperately at his wrist with flushed cheeks and wild hair.

"Eren, you shameless bastard, hand it over!" Aria pleaded, completely abandoning all noble composure as she stretched on tiptoe, practically climbing into his lap to reach his hand. "Burn it! Burn it right now or I swear I’ll lock you in the dungeon!"

"Hey, respect high art!" Eren chuckled, effortlessly leaning his torso back and tilting his wrist just out of her desperate, manicured reach.

Across the table, Seraphina watched the unfolding chaos with a deadpan, deeply exhausted expression.

"I am going to perish from pure second-hand embarrassment."