The Darkness Accompanying Sin

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Act One: The Eve of the Ceremony
The carriage bearing the insignia of the dragon chrysanthemum sped towards the palace. True to its royal status, even

at such high speed, the only vibrations inside were the slight thud of the horses' hooves.
Inside the spacious carriage, the young woman leaned against the window frame, gazing out at the luxurious gaslights lining the road.
Tomorrow, the King would hold a ceremony to award Cynthia for her mission's success. What reward would Povi

receive ? A title? A fief? He had promised to have Duke Pang Jiu propose marriage after the ceremony. But given

his character, would he really wait that long? Would he kneel and propose to her in front of everyone…

?
Thinking of this, the young woman's face burned. What girl doesn't dream of love? Livia, who had always kept her heart closed,

once love ignited within her, its intensity was second to none.
She just didn't know that this would be the last time she dreamed of the future. Happiness had once been so close to her.
Composing herself, Livia saw the carriage had entered Dragonwing Castle, and the brightly lit royal palace was already visible in the distance.

Livia was used to such evening summons. Her cousin, Princess Elizabeth,

like most princesses, had a group of servants attending to her, but no friends.

Unlike Livia, she wasn't interested in the gatherings of young nobles, finding the intrigue and backstabbing unbearable. Only Livia would occasionally

spend a night at the palace, keeping the lonely princess company. Sometimes, even if Livia didn't want to come,

Princess Elizabeth would summon her herself. There's a saying, isn't there? A princess's wish is her command.
The carriage stopped at the entrance of a side hall of the palace, and Livia alighted. Although the royal family's greatest enemy,

the Cynthian faction, had been wiped out, security measures showed no sign of relaxation. Given Livia's status, she naturally didn't need

to undergo a direct search, but the rumors of her being able to ride directly into the palace were just that

—rumors .
The side hall was a suitable place. Spring was halfway over, and the nights at Dragonwing Castle were still a bit chilly. The roaring fire in

the side hall made the room warm and inviting, allowing Livia, who had come to pay her respects, to remove her outer

coat to show she was unarmed. Afterwards, Elizabeth's maid would naturally guide her to the princess's bedchamber.
However, the fireplace was burning a bit too brightly tonight. Despite removing her cloak,

Livia, wearing a high-necked long dress, quickly felt sweaty. The servant who had announced her arrival had already left, and Elizabeth's maid

would be arriving in a while.
Feeling a little parched from the fire, Livia noticed a complete

tea set from the East on the table in the side hall. The male servant standing at the table noticed her gaze and nodded knowingly: "As instructed, it's

your favorite black tea."
She took a sip; the temperature was perfect, but it was too sweet. It must have been made with

a lot of , completely masking the tea's delicate aroma. No wonder the king's body was becoming increasingly bloated, Livia thought to herself.
However, this wasn't exactly the occasion for leisurely tea tasting. Although she couldn't taste the original flavor of the tea, it

was enough to quench her thirst and soothe her throat. Thinking this, Livia drank her second cup of warm tea.
As if by prior arrangement, the door on the other side of the side hall opened at this moment, and a maid appeared in the doorway,

nodding and gesturing: "Miss Qifeng, please follow me."
In the long corridor connecting the side hall and the main palace, Livia followed behind the maid, inwardly cursing the palace's

overly sensitive security measures. Each time, she had to wait in a different side hall, and be led by a different maid, deliberately

trying to prevent outsiders from becoming familiar with the palace's layout. She wondered if even the Emperor himself

would get .
It was rather strange that this maid was so different. In the past, those who came to guide her were mostly people from Princess Elizabeth's entourage,

or at least relatively young maids. But this unfamiliar maid looked to be almost 50 years old,

and the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes were impossible to hide.
Lost in thought, Livia was led into a bedroom in the palace. Having spent many nights in

Princess quarters, she immediately recognized this as not the princess's bedroom, nor was the princess waiting here.

Candles burned brightly on the walls, and incense burned in the censer, but the room was empty. Livia had a vague feeling

that something was wrong and was about to ask the maidservant, but the maidservant had already retreated from the doorway she had come from and closed the door from the outside.
Livia hurriedly stepped forward and pushed the door hard, but it wouldn't budge. After all that effort, perhaps because of

her anxiety, her limbs felt a little weak. Just as she was about to call for help, she heard the familiar voice of the middle-aged

man , "Don't bother, they won't open the door."
Turning around, standing behind her was her uncle, the founder of the Grass Heron Dynasty, and His Majesty King Abraham I of the Kingdom of

Wilhelm .
Normally, Abraham was a notoriously hands-off king, leaving all political affairs to Grand

Dukes Grey and Vulture, rarely appearing in the royal court for state meetings. However,

he always made an appearance for important national ceremonies, such as tomorrow's awards ceremony for dismantling Cynthia's faction. Each time, his meticulously

tailored robes, perfectly applied makeup and wigs, and slightly higher heels concealed his

clumsy physique, presenting his subjects with an image of majesty and wisdom.
But this time, Abraham had shed his solemn facade. His robes hung loosely over his body,

revealing his chest hair. He wasn't wearing a wig; short, bristly gray hair stood on end, his small eyes

were bloodshot, and he grinned broadly, his face contorted with unspeakable ugliness, as if the once-respectable

saint had been possessed by Satan.
Livia's heart sank. When Livia first met Abraham upon her return to the capital, his prolonged

gaze made her very uncomfortable. Afterwards, at every outing, banquet, and ball, the king always adopted

the demeanor of a doting uncle towards his niece. Although Livia always felt that his attitude wasn't entirely innocent, aside from the endless stream

of lavish gifts, Abraham never overstepped his duty as an uncle. Her previous overnight stays at Dragonwing Castle

had also been uneventful. This led Livia to believe that Abraham was just like those other young men, only

trying to please and seduce her with gold and jewels.
But tonight, the king clearly had other plans.
Watching the king approach step by step, Livia took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm, without panic.

"No use whatsoever." The rich incense seemed to calm her down considerably.
"Uncle, let me go right now! I swear in my mother's name, I will never

tell anyone about what happened tonight," the girl pleaded. But this wasn't the white rabbit begging the gray wolf.

Although Abraham was a man, strong and robust, his body had likely been worn down by years of wine and women. Judging from his

bloated figure and clumsy movements, Livia, who had been raised as a boy by the Marquis of Qifeng, was confident she could

handle him. However, injuring the king or escalating the situation was something the girl didn't want

, given her father's awkward position. The girl glanced around, calculating how

to get past the king. The door he had just entered through seemed ajar?
"Hehehe, Livia, do you think you can escape my grasp now?"
The tired old words reminded Livia of

a play she'd seen at the Misty Hill Theater, starring Bovi, where the clown had said something similar to the heroine, only to have his teeth knocked out by Bovi's

character "Ugly Buck." If the situation weren't so tense, the girl might have burst out

laughing.
But then, as she retreated, Livia's legs gave way, seemingly tripping over

a wrinkle in the carpet, causing her to stumble. Just as she tried to regain her balance, the middle-aged man seized the opportunity to close the distance, grabbing her arms

with both hands and pulling her forcefully into his embrace.
Terrified, Livia struggled desperately, but the king's strength was unexpectedly great,

completely catching her off guard, his grip on her arms like an iron clamp.
No, it wasn't that the king was particularly strong; the girl felt her limbs weakening. This

wasn't a psychological effect of witnessing Abraham's ugly face up close, but a genuine feeling.

The strength that had once allowed her to firmly control the wild northern horse was rapidly draining away, and it seemed that even if

the king , she wouldn't be able to escape on her own.
In the struggle, Livia was pulled into the king's arms, his foul-smelling

mouth licking her head, face, and neck.
At this moment, the girl truly panicked. With her last bit of strength, Livia struggled to pull her face

away , panting, "What have you done to me?"
"Want to know? I'll tell you after a kiss," the king said with a lewd grin.
The girl fell silent, struggling with all her might—pushing, punching, kicking, twisting… but

all of this did nothing to hinder or harm the king, not even scratching his oily skin, only

draining Livia's dwindling strength.
The struggle moved from the doorway to the bed. Livia, pressed heavily beneath the obese king on the grand palace bed filled with fine down

, sank deep into it. The king pulled her arms wide, Abraham's

large mouth searching for her lips. Using the last bit of space, Livia dodged left and right, struggling to prevent the king

from succeeding.
Abraham's strength wasn't limitless. While the girl's struggle excited him, it wouldn't be fun if he exhausted his strength before

enjoying the main course.
He simply released Livia's arms, placing his left hand behind her head and his right hand

gripping her snowy neck tightly, forcing her to gasp for breath. Then, he kissed her forcefully,

ignoring the girl's pounding, scratching, and kicking of her arms and legs behind her back—it was

almost like tickling her.
His thick tongue plunged into her mouth, swirling with thick saliva.

How soft her lips were, how fragrant they were. Abraham was captivated by her breaths.
Her first kiss was taken.
It was a long, intoxicating kiss. The king lifted his head, and a silvery chain of saliva was

pulled from her lips by his tongue, breaking off and landing at the corner of her mouth.
Gags and choking caused the girl to cough violently, losing consciousness.
"It's time," Abraham murmured. He used both hands forcefully. "Rip!" Livia's

long dress was torn open from her chest. As the tearing sound continued, her undergarments were ripped open in the same way.
The girl, regaining some of her senses, looked down and saw that her

snow-white skin, from her neck down to below her navel, was completely exposed. Two tattered pieces of her clothing barely draped over her nipples

, offering only a small portion of coverage. As she raised her head and moved

her upper body , even this meager covering slowly slipped away.
The girl cried out and tried to gather her clothes, but the king casually brushed her hands aside, pulling the barely

held-over well, leaving her upper body completely naked. Abraham grabbed

Livia's skirt below her navel and pulled hard again. The skirt was torn and ripped, revealing her kicking legs and a patch of

dark pubic hair.
Abraham's hands climbed onto the girl's breasts, kneading them wantonly. Livia was

completely powerless to resist.
"Didn't you want to know what I did to you?" the king whispered in the girl's ear. "Don't worry,

it's not tobacco powder. Women who have been abused like that are no different from filthy bitches. I don't want you to become like that."
"Manchophy and geranium, this secret formula is only known in the palace." The king kissed the girl

's earlobe, straightened up and continued, not caring whether Livia was listening or not. "Geranium in tea does

n't have any special effects, but with manchophy from incense... it's a medicine with effects comparable to red hibiscus

. Those apothecaries spent countless gold coins and tortured countless hysterical

prisoners to concoct this formula. Josie, who serves tea in the hall, can tell you how many cups it will take to make you

obey with just one glance."
As he spoke, the king casually picked up a glass of red wine from the bedside table, poured it on the girl's chest,

and then licking wildly. He licked from the girl's chest and breasts all the way to her small navel, and then

moved towards the dark forest below. Whether it was the stimulation of the alcohol or the result of being licked by the king,

her nipples were engorged and erect, completely unlike their usual appearance. Not only her nipples, but her entire breasts had also grown considerably,

as if some inexplicable fire was burning within them.
Taking advantage of the moment when the king's head was buried between his legs, the girl, suppressing her nausea and restlessness, struggled to back away,

trying to sit up with her hands on her hips.
But the king wouldn't let Livia escape so easily. He lunged forward, placing his hands on the girl's shoulders,

and pinning the half-sitting Livia down again.
Throughout this struggle, apart from coughing, panting, and occasionally letting out a whimper or groan, Livia

remained silent.
Having subdued the girl once more, Abraham reached one hand into her hidden paradise, exploring the crevice,

occasionally teasing the hidden clitoris.
The forced intrusion of the foreign object caused the girl immense pain, not only from the rough fingers assaulting her narrow, delicate space

, but also from the restlessness it brought and the implications behind it—Livia had nowhere to retreat; her chastity, preserved for over twenty

years was about to be lost.
Although she was well past the age of being called a girl, even with her Platonic

relationship , Livia's body remained pure, untouched by the baptism of lust. This unfamiliar restlessness made

the girl extremely uncomfortable.
Because of this, even the king, a seasoned lover, after much effort, could only manage to slightly moisten her

delicate area.
He couldn't care less; the obese king felt his genitals swelling unbearably. Although

the sight of the white fluid flowing from the girl's lips, cheeks, and chest was undeniably lewd and alluring, for

a virgin's first time, it was best mixed with the blood that proved her purity, if his intelligence was correct

.
His ugly, grotesque weapon, veins bulging, dripping with the turbid fluid, swaggered before the girl.

Livia could only lean her head back, trying to avoid it.
The final moment had arrived. The king spread Livia's legs into an obtuse-angled M-shape, pressed his weapon against

her clitoris, and slowly pushed forward.
Understanding her impending fate, Livia stopped her futile struggles. Her eyes were fixed

on the ugly, fleshy rod, watching the hard, hot weapon tear open the tight crevice of her lower body, forcibly

squeezing into her cavity.
The girl felt the weapon stop before the precious membrane. Before she could react,

the king suddenly thrust forward with force, piercing through the proof of her virginity in one go.
Blood flowed out.
The girl, who had been pale and composed, who had been exhausted and limp on the bed, suddenly sat up like a spring doll

after this heavy blow, like a fish whose scales had been ripped off.

Her mouth opened in horror, as if to scream, but after a long while, she let out a suppressed moan like a dying animal. Then, as if her bones had been removed,

she collapsed backward. Her long, black hair spread out on the headboard like blooming lilies. Her breasts

trembled with the constant spasms of her body. The silver bracelet on her right wrist even emitted a strange melody.
Feeling incredibly comfortable being enveloped and squeezed by the girl's tight passage, the king, though wanting to continue thrusting wildly

, was no longer the impetuous youth he once was. He slowly withdrew, casually picking up a

piece of white silk torn from Livia's dress and lightly wiping it between the girl's legs. The girl convulsed more

violently .
Sure enough, the marks on the silk confirmed Abraham's long-held suspicions and intelligence. "
I prayed for the most beautiful flower in the capital, regardless of whether it had been touched by rain and dew, but unexpectedly, the Supreme Being

bestowed upon me the angel of virginity," the king thought blasphemously.
The girl's blood, her helpless convulsions, her supple body—all of this aroused the king's

bestial nature. He took up his spear and charged in, no longer needing any careful savoring, no longer needing any deliberate teasing,

no longer caring whether the girl could withstand it; he only wanted to vent his desires, to rampage recklessly.
Upon entering that fiery passage, the girl's flesh immediately squeezed and enveloped it tightly, attempting to

push out, but instead giving the perpetrator unparalleled pleasure.
"So tight, Livia," the king panted as he thrust.
The night was still young, the room filled with the king's panting, the sounds of flesh colliding and rubbing, and the girl's suppressed

moans .
Pain, excruciating pain, a pain that ran through her body, almost splitting her in two, roused the girl from her initial stupor

. Her tear-blurred eyes slowly cleared, and the first thing she saw was

the ugly, twisted face of the fat man working so hard on her body. Then, she noticed for the first time that

a large glass mirror was embedded in the ceiling of the palace bed canopy.
Looking at her reflection, for a moment, the girl even had the illusion that the mirror was the real

world, that her soul had detached from her body, wandering in the air, looking down upon her true form.
In the mirror, her black hair was disheveled, a few strands covering her face, bitten between her lips, occasionally fluttering with her suppressed moans

and gasps. Her arms were spread wide in a cross shape, stretching limply to her sides. A pillow was haphazardly placed behind her, making her snow-capped peaks

appear even more prominent and erect. The king's hands were vigorously kneading her breasts. The obese man's lower body was

tightly , panting as he thrust into her. Her legs convulsively wrapped

around the obese man's waist, moving back and forth with his movements. Was this what
the dead swan she had seen with Bovi at Lake Coril

looked like when it was killed by the fox? Broken wings, stained feathers, its neck bitten open, blood gushing out,

torn, ravaged, its crushed bones and muscles swallowed along with it.
The escapist reverie did not continue; the violated girl had no right to escape. Honest sensations surged through her chest and

lower body , impacting her, washing over her, pulling at her viscera, clamoring to tear her apart and

burn her to ashes.
Abraham had finally reached his climax; the swelling in his lower body had reached its limit, and the tingling sensation in his back was

unbearable . He suddenly increased the frequency and force of his thrusts, his hands no longer leisurely playing with the girl's breasts,

but instead forcefully pulling her upper body into his embrace, minimizing the distance between them. The girl's arms

trembled weakly behind his back.
The king breathed heavily in Livia's ear, gritting his teeth, "From now on, you will forever bear

my mark within you."
With a roar, Abraham delivered a final, powerful blow, forcefully driving his weapon deep into Livia's

body .
Livia felt a powerful surge of heat erupt from the weapon, piercing through her and burning

her. As Abraham trembled, a second and third surge followed.
The gradual warming sensation throughout her body exploded instantly, engulfing

every inch of her flesh, inside and out, tossing her to unprecedented heights before plunging her into deep darkness.
Before sinking into the boundless darkness, the girl seemed to hear the king's hoarse voice say, "Such flesh,

if its first harvest were left to any of the Pontiff's sons, it would be a waste..."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Transition: Commendation
People often say that nightmares end in the morning. But if this morning is only the beginning of another, even greater nightmare,

then should one still wake up?
The next day, the commendation ceremony was held as scheduled.
Livia and Princess Elizabeth sat behind the King and Queen. She sat quietly with her head bowed. Bovi, sitting at

the far end of the red carpet, could not see her expression.
Even sitting behind the king, she could almost feel Abraham's lewd gaze.
Last night, the king hadn't been satisfied with just that one outburst. The girl's memory was fragmented between unconsciousness and convulsions

; she only remembered waking up several times and falling back into darkness, letting him do as he pleased.
The foul odor emanating from her entire body, even her lips and mouth, proved that the king had lingered in more than just that one paradise.
Before dawn, the girl was awakened. The stern, middle-aged maid directed seven or eight younger maids to

move to a secluded room, where they skillfully washed and massaged her body, rinsed her mouth, and applied medicine.
Water washed away the stains and blood; ointment soothed the physical pain; face powder masked the king's

scent; fine pearl powder concealed the kiss marks and fingerprints on her face and neck; a magnificent long dress covered the bruises and swellings on her limbs

and body .
Everything could be concealed, but nothing could truly be restored to its original state.
(Everything could be covered/unseen, but nothing could be recovered

/undone.)
Livia allowed them to do as they pleased, remaining silent and motionless, like a corpse about to be laid to rest. The middle-

aged maid spoke to the young woman, but she didn't react.
Only when the maid casually commented on the silver bracelet on the young woman's wrist, noting its peculiar design but poor

workmanship , did the young woman show a slight response.
Before leaving the small house, Livia was asked when her last period was, but she didn't react,

perhaps because she hadn't had time to. She was then impatiently forced to drink a cup of herbal tea.
Then she was taken to Elizabeth's bedchamber to have breakfast with the princess. This trip to the palace did indeed allow her to meet

the princess. The naive Elizabeth was overjoyed to see her companion, unaware of any ulterior motives.
Livia had almost no appetite and spoke even less. The princess assumed the young woman was preoccupied with

the awards . Even the princess, deep within the palace walls, had already learned from her conversations with her companions that her cousin

was intimately entangled with the young talent of the Pang family. She also knew that today's awards ceremony was of great importance to that young man.
In the princess's eyes, Livia's unease seemed perfectly natural, completely oblivious to

the upheaval .
Before the stage, the king's attendants were reciting their opening remarks. The girl wasn't listening. In

some corner of her heart, a small voice cried out: something from last night, of great importance, must be

remembered .
The girl instinctively wanted to refuse, numbly unwilling to think, yet reason and intuition were equally certain that, for

some reason, she must remember immediately, because it was related to Bovi, related to today's awards ceremony.
What was it? The gaslight? The warm tea? The middle-aged maid? The incense? The king's ugly face, ugly…
no, not something concretely seen. The girl's once bright and sharp mind was now

working . Beneath the thick fog, something was anxiously surfacing.
Who had she overheard saying something?
"As ordered, it's your favorite black tea." — The waiter, Josie, with a fawning smile.
"Miss Qifeng, please come with me." — The middle-aged maid, her face stern.
"Want to know? A kiss and I'll tell you." — The king, with a lecherous grin.
"From now on, you will forever bear my mark within you." — The king, panting.
"Such flesh, if its first harvest were left to any of the Pangjiu family's boys, it would be a waste

..." — Boundless darkness.
"Any of the Pangjiu family's boys!" Something within the girl shattered, and the thick fog in her heart

was dispelled.
A conspiracy! The girl keenly sensed the scent of a conspiracy. The king wouldn't say something so contrary to common sense without reason.

There must be some conspiracy here. Was it aimed at her? Was it aimed at Bovi?
The girl almost stood up, desperately calling out the young man's name. Just then, the speaker's

impassioned speech reached its climax: "...In this struggle between good and evil, he has made a great contribution.

And many of us do not know his name. Coincidentally, this young man has a surname to be proud of. Like father,

like son, he is none other than William Powell, the long-lost son of Duke Greta Emerald!"
The waiter's high-pitched voice pierced the sky, applause thundered, solemn cannon salutes sounded, the hero ascended the stage, and the crowd cheered!

However, the hero who stepped onto the stage was not Powell, but William, the son of Lady Lerella, who had been missing for four years. William, who had drawn countless sketches of her

years ago , walked onto

the stage with a smile and an undisguised burning gaze.
Vision blurred, applause, cheers... all were no longer felt. The girl struggled to her feet, wanting to catch a glimpse of Bovi

in the distance . However, the standing clapping, cheering, and applauding of the noblemen and ladies blocked her

view, obscuring the figure of the young man at the end of the table…
She didn't attend the banquet following the award ceremony; her impatient father dragged her straight home, and she didn't even get to

say a word to Bovi. Of course, she was unaware of the ensuing uproar.
Even if she were there, what difference would it make? Perhaps, if many things were to happen again, things would be different, but we

can't be sure.
Some things cannot be hidden from a meticulous father. Although it was common for the young lady to stay overnight in the palace,

her expression and behavior this morning aroused suspicion in Marquis Ignaz. The Marquis

was , and knowing the relationship between Livia and Bovey, he certainly understood what it meant.
Faced with the Marquis's persistent questioning, the young lady kept her lips tightly closed and remained silent.
That evening, Countess Estelle, who came to visit, brought

news that the Pang brothers would duel in three days. Disappointed at not being able to satisfy her curiosity, the Countess left. Faced with the Marquis's weary questioning, the young lady

only said one sentence, "No, I don't want to see Bovey again, I don't want any more contact."
However, what was bound to happen would happen. The afternoon before the duel, Bovey's voice

rang out outside the iron gate of the Evening Glory Pavilion. The sensitive and persistent young man would not be dismissed by a simple excuse.
"Please tell Miss Livia that I won't bother her. This may be the last time Bovi Love Song sees her."
"What do you want to say?" A cold female voice came from behind the iron bars. The waiter tactfully left. Livia's

expression , revealing neither joy nor anger. The two stared at each other again through the door, just like their encounter on the terrace four years ago.
It all seemed like dialogue from a third-rate script: Bovi pleading desperately, Livia as cold as ice. Even the girl

herself found it strange how those heartless and vicious words had flowed so smoothly from her lips.

The feeling of detachment returned.
However, separated by the door, Bovi couldn't see the fingernails deeply piercing her palm.
Finally, Livia left, leaving Bovi standing alone before the door.
It was still the manor, still the lush green grass; still the door, separated by iron bars; still the same person, still as elegant

as ever, only—her heart was no longer there.
At dawn, on the grass beside the suburban path leading from Du Ruo Manor to Xi Yan Pavilion, Bovi, who hadn't slept all night, stood

alone with her sword, waiting for everything to come to an end.
As the sun rose, several carriages slowly approached, and William Pangjiu, Countess Estelle,

Marquis Qifeng, Nabai, Miss Gray-Blue, and others alighted. Bovi breathed a sigh of relief upon not seeing Livia.
Bovi, who had only traveled to and from this place for a few months, could hardly compare to Livia, who had lived here for years

. Not long after the carriages carrying Countess Estelle and Marquis Qifeng left Xiyan Pavilion, the young woman had

already quietly made her way nearby via a side path. She knew an excellent spot, overlooking the clear grass but

undetected by the crowd around the dueling arena.
The duel began, and neither exchanged many words. Bovi's relentless, death-defying determination did not bring him victory.

After an initial stalemate, the difference in their fighting skills quickly became apparent. Watching William knock

the sword out of Bovi's hand and then slash and punch the wounded youth struggling to his feet, the young woman

's vision blurred.
The conversation with Bove about the dead swan, held a few weeks ago on the shores of Lake Coril, echoed in her mind once more.
"If I were that murdered swan, in my final moments, I would do everything in my power to sink into the water.

That way , my mate wouldn't starve or be killed while guarding my body," Bove said earnestly.
"And if you were the surviving mate?"
"Then I would still sink into the water, together with my beloved."
Bove longed for a swift end, and Livia awaited that moment as well.
If the sword pierced Bove's heart, then her own chest would become its final

sheath. Let their blood mingle, pure or impure, inseparable...
However, reality wasn't so cruel, or rather, reality was far crueler.
As a cold glint approached Bove's chest, who was nearing unconsciousness, the still agile

Marquis timely stopped William's final killing blow, declaring the duel over. Miss Gray-Blue rushed

to protect the defeated one without hesitation. The Marquis then turned his head, looked at the distant dense forest, sighed deeply, and remained silent for a long time.
--------------------------------------------------------------------- Act
Two: The Night Before the Great Case
Despite the slight changes in appearance, the games and gatherings among the young talents of Bowan continued.
Since the duel, Miss Qifeng had remained secluded, supposedly ill. Ivan Pangjiu, of course,

had disappeared from these gatherings. William Pangjiu, an old acquaintance who hadn't appeared in a long time, filled the loser's

spot.
The way people looked at him was somewhat different than before. However, the always self-assured William Pangjiu

either didn't notice, or thought it was just jealousy.
"One Pangjiu goes, another Pangjiu comes; another Pangjiu comes, another Pangjiu goes. But each one is worse than the last,

" Warren Gray said dismissively at the end of one gathering. William had already left, and Warren

seemed drunk, so no one took it seriously. However, the equally spirited Prince was

amused and laughed heartily.
Tonight's banquet at the Du Ruo Mansion can be described as a grand gathering of young people.

Grand Duke went to Weinan, supposedly to catch up and have a drink with his old brother Alexander Greyblue, whom he hadn't seen for many years. Little Pangjiu

hosted a banquet at his manor, inviting only young nobles of similar age. Livia, who hadn't been seen for a while,

appeared in the lounge. William was by her side, looking radiant.
Another familiar face was also there, Miss Greyblue. However, Na Bai's behavior today seemed a bit excessive.

Not only was she late, but she was also wearing a dress that was clearly torn, and she looked smug, as if this

was the same dress worth two hundred thousand gold lumas. As soon as she entered the lounge, she looked around looking for someone.
Warren frowned and quickly went to greet her.
But it was too late. Miss Grey-Blue had already found the person she was looking for, and she shrieked at her brother who was trying to

drag her away , "Let me go! I only have one sentence to say to Livia, and then I'll leave on my own."
Noticing everyone's gaze on them, an embarrassed Warren had no choice but to let go.
Nabe, strutting around like a victorious kitten, walked triumphantly to the girl sitting

with .
"You know what? Ivan and I got intimate today. He pinned me down on the bed. Look, he ripped this dress.

He's really strong. Do you want to know what else we did in bed afterwards?"
"Enough, Nabey!" Warren scolded, rushing over.
"I'm sorry, William, I apologize for my sister's rudeness. Actually, I've been wanting to tell

you all evening that Povi said goodbye to me at noon and left Bowan by carriage overnight. Apparently, he's going to Windblown Flower City."

Warren sincerely expressed his apology to Little Eagle, but glanced at Livia out of the corner of his eye.
Throughout, the girl remained calm, maintaining an elegant smile as she watched the Grey-Blue siblings' performance.
"It's nothing. It's been years since I've seen Nabey. She's still as innocent and lovely as ever." William, in a good mood, didn't

seem to care at all. Although somewhat dramatic, the Grey-Blue family had delivered some wonderful news. As for

the noise, William considered it nothing more than the distant barking of defeated dogs.
This little scene did not dampen everyone's spirits; the night was still long.
Perhaps because she hadn't attended such a late-night gathering in a long time, or perhaps because she was still recovering from an illness and lacked energy,

Miss Qifeng excused herself and left early, refusing her master's kind offer to personally escort her to Xiyan Pavilion.
Stepping outside the mansion, the cool outdoor air dispelled the stuffiness and noise of the banquet, invigorating her.

Donning her cloak, Livia prepared to take a carriage back to Xiyan Pavilion.
"Miss Qifeng." A middle-aged woman's voice came from the shadows.
The girl froze, as if struck by lightning.
This voice brought back memories of that night for Livia, the side hall with its roaring fire, the

winding corridor, the door that had never been opened again…
A tall, thin figure slowly emerged from the shadows and stood before the girl, lifting her hood to reveal the

now-faded face of a palace maid. Several other dark figures surrounded them, encircling Livia and the old servant.

The tense old Locke, his right hand clenched tightly inside his black servant's robe, kept glancing at the brightly lit

Du Ruo .
“Seeing Miss Qifeng at the gathering, she must be much better now. Otherwise, we might have to

pay her a visit to Xiyan Pavilion; some people are getting impatient.” The middle-aged maid stepped forward, seemingly

oblivious to the tense atmosphere.
Livia nodded slowly and instructed the old servant behind her to drive the empty carriage back first.
The loyal, taciturn old man grew anxious: “Master instructed…”
“Don’t worry, Princess Elizabeth has come to fetch me to the palace. Please tell my father I’m staying at

Dragonwing Chrysanthemum Castle tonight and won’t be returning.”
“But…” The old servant wasn’t convinced; his long experience told him it wasn’t as simple as the young lady

made it be.
“No buts. Do as I say.” Miss Qifeng, usually so gentle,

was not .
The carriage, bearing the Dragonwing Chrysanthemum emblem, sped towards the palace. As expected of a royal carriage, even

at such high speed, the interior only vibrated slightly with the sound of hooves.

The luxurious gaslights lining the most dazzling Angel's Ring Street in the capital were already lit.
Everything seemed so familiar. Inside the spacious carriage, the young woman and the palace maid sat facing each other.
"Last time... I left in such a hurry that I didn't even get to ask your name."
"Miledi. Lily. I've always dealt with girls from commoner families. As a noble lady,

you're the first one I've encountered, so it's not surprising you don't recognize me." The middle-aged woman's voice was flat, her eyes

scanning as if appraising a valuable vase in the palace.
After a moment of silence, the palace maid's voice rang out again.
"Noble lady, let me give you some advice. Don't be stubborn. As for what's about to happen, try to please him

as much as possible . That way, he'll tire of you sooner and move on to the next target."
The middle-aged woman's words were shocking, showing no respect for the king. But coming from Miledi's mouth,

they sounded perfectly natural, as if it were the truth of the matter.
"Is this for my sake or for his?" The girl's sweet voice was filled with an unusual sarcasm.
"Some morally reprehensible choices may actually be better for everyone in the end. Don't try to

fight ; it will only arouse his desire, causing him to pour more time, attention, and...torture into you. When

you finally lose your attraction to him, it's just like throwing away an old garment, while you'll find that

you've lost entire beautiful youth."
"Will it work?" The girl asked after a moment of silence, the sarcasm still strong.
"There was once a girl...I've forgotten her name, but of course, this is better for both of us..."

The middle-aged woman's voice lowered, but then became sharp and high-pitched: "Don't expect to assassinate him in bed;

you might as well hope he 'goes on a stroke' on your belly. Let me tell you honestly, even without drinking Josie's

herbal tea, you wouldn't have escaped that night!"
It was still that side hall, still the male servant Josie, but the deceptive smile was gone, replaced by a restrained

and moderate respect. Yes, the pretense was no longer needed.
Besides the tea set, there were many more bottles and jars on the table.
“Miss, would you like a cup of the same tea as last time?” Josie asked
. “No, thank you.” The girl’s voice was devoid of any emotion.
“We have some other medicines here that you might consider. They can help ease your mental burdens,

moral constraints, and the ropes binding your conscience. They’ll make you feel much better and allow you to get into the swing of things more quickly. This is

for your own good; frankly, you don’t have much experience with this kind of thing yet,” Milady interjected.
“We don’t want you to hurt him because of your nervousness,” Milady added.
The girl remained silent, but her attitude was crystal clear.
“Then at least drink this herbal tea. Surely you don’t want to bear the king’s new

heir as an unmarried girl?” the middle-aged woman finally conceded.
“Josie, do you know anything about herbs?” After drinking the bitter herbal tea and handing the cup back to Josie, who was standing by, the girl

asked.
"Herbal medicine is a profound subject, madam. It may not be as mysterious as alchemy, but its practical value

is far greater." Although Josie was not a formally trained pharmacist, years of immersion in the field had

given a sense of professional pride, which made him more talkative.
Leading the girl through the corridor, Milady said without turning her head, "You are brave, very brave,

as brave as her, but I wonder if you are as clever. I'm warning you one last time, don't think about anything inexplicable

."
As she spoke, they arrived at the bedroom door. Milady pushed open the door.
Inside, candles were still brightly lit, and incense filled the air.
The king was already sitting on the palace bed, waiting. Abraham, seated, appeared even more bloated, his protruding

belly bulging like a giant frog.
Behind him, the door closed again. The king impatiently approached, reaching out to tear at

the girl 's clothes.
The girl turned aside, "I'll do it myself."
The king assumed this was the result of the girl drinking some kind of drug. Of course, it was also possible that

the girl, having tasted the sweetness, had already succumbed to his virility.
Her clothes were removed piece by piece, neatly draped on the chair beside the bed. Her slender fingers trembled slightly as she unbuttoned the first

button , but quickly regained their composure. As more and more of the girl's skin was exposed,

Abraham 's breathing grew heavier.
The girl was now completely naked. The brightness and temperature in the room seemed to rise considerably. Perhaps instinctively,

Livia clasped her hands together, using her arms to cover her chest.
The king, like a dog in heat, could no longer sit still. He approached, panting,

circling the naked girl, admiring her gleaming white body and her intoxicating curves.
After a long period of recuperation, the marks the king had left on Livia that wild night

had vanished without a trace.
Time seemed to heal all wounds, it seemed so.
Time also changed some things; the girl's shoulder-length hair had grown longer, reaching below her breasts

; her already full breasts seemed to have grown even larger since that night.
The king, annoyed that her crossed arms obscured the boundless view of her snow-capped peaks, reached out to pull them apart. He

could . The king looked at the girl in surprise. Livia's shoulders trembled slightly, her arms spreading apart and hanging

at her sides.
The girl's stiff posture and muscles betrayed her inner tension, but also caused

her breasts . Those two hemispherical breasts, topped with two bright red nipples,

gradually hardened under the air.
The king embraced the girl, burying his head in her full breasts, lingering and sucking them. He carried her a few steps to

the bedside and laid Livia down.
The girl remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the large glass mirror above her head, watching the obese man

ravage her body, watching her legs being forcefully spread apart.
Abraham's thick tongue slowly moved downwards, continuing

the expedition to that mysterious source that he had failed to complete last time. His fingers parted the black forest, revealing the rose-colored slit. The long, tightly closed entrance to the paradise

was slightly widened, and his tongue, sticky with saliva, probed inside, exploring its depths.
The girl instinctively tried to squeeze her legs together, but they were firmly

held down by the king's arms, elbows, and shoulders. Only the muscles at the base of her thighs twitched helplessly, her breasts heaved violently, and her hands gripped

the sheets spasmodically.
The king leisurely licked the crevice until he felt that it was wet with more than just his

saliva. Then he focused his efforts on attacking the hidden clitoris. His serpentine tongue stimulated

the clitoris until it became engorged and hard, rising from the skin. Then he gently bit it with his teeth.
The girl let out a small, animalistic moan. A surge of heat shot out, overflowing her paradise. Even

the dark forest was adorned with glistening droplets.
The king stood up, looking with satisfaction at the panting Livia on the bed. The girl's eyes could no longer

focus , and her hands weakly loosened their grip on the sheets. A blush of sensual excitement

rose on her breasts and cheeks.
“Ready, Livia!” The king lifted one of the girl’s legs and hoisted it onto his body.

The girl ’s legs were spread apart at an obtuse angle by this position. His throbbing, painful weapon, with a “plop,” plunged into

her warm passage.
Entering Livia’s body again after so long, enjoying the instinctive sucking and squeezing of her secret place, the king

couldn’t control himself. Like when he was 14 and first pounced on the little maid beside him, he thrust with extreme speed and

force , as if trying to pierce through her flower.
The girl’s soul seemed to have left her body, floating in the air, looking down at herself on the bed, at

the king on top of her. The intense movements, the sinful intercourse, the tightly joined lower bodies, the lewd posture, the rapid breathing,

the gleaming skin, the erect, crimson nipples, the flying sweat.
She was being washed and refined by lust and sensuality. Was this the fallen form of the capital’s flower?
Even so, Abraham still felt unsatisfied; he took a step back and withdrew his weapon. The girl, suddenly feeling empty in her lower body

, had no time to react before being flipped into a kneeling position on the palace bed, and then the king piled on top of her.
Her vision snapped away from the mirror, her soul abruptly pulled back into her body. The girl, in this humiliating position, clenched her teeth,

enduring the impact from behind. Her breasts were wantonly fondled by rough, large hands that reached out from behind, and her slender neck was

licked by a thick tongue. Her body seemed to have adapted; the all-encompassing intrusion of the foreign object was transformed into a burning flame,

raging and roaring through every vein in her body. Pleasure accumulated, approaching the dangerous

cusp with each quickening of the pace.
With a low growl from the king behind her, the girl, unable to maintain even her last shred

of mournful cry, her body, stretched to its limit, collapsed onto the bed.
Slowly regaining her senses, Livia found herself, unknowingly, turned back into a supine position.

The king lay half-reclined beside her, inhaling the fragrance of her body from her hairline. The king's hand unconsciously toyed with

his left breast, kneading and pressing the nipple.
Feeling the nipple harden in his hand, and the girl's breathing quicken again, the king realized

she had regained consciousness. He guided Livia's delicate hand to his now-erect member, letting

her feel its heat and ferocity.
Seeing the girl's eyes widen suddenly as she looked at him, the king smiled maliciously, "Livia, night..."

"It's still a long way to go."
Early in the morning, after alighting from her carriage outside the Xiyan Pavilion, Livia, exhausted, was about to go upstairs to her room

when she heard her father's hoarse voice from a corner of the hall. "You still know how to come back." 　　Marquis Qifeng had clearly not slept all night; a violin he had made years ago was half-disassembled and placed aside . His snow-white temples seemed to have grown longer, his usually neat hair was no longer so tidy, and stubble had sprouted on his face. 　　The Marquis stared at his daughter with bloodshot eyes and a gloomy expression. 　　"I'm back, Father," his daughter said softly. 　　The Marquis slowly stood up, walked to his daughter, raised his trembling right hand high, and then slapped her , leaving a bright red finger mark on Livia's delicate, fair face. 　　The Marquis, who had never laid a hand on his obedient daughter before, erupted. 　　"What are you doing? Why are you humiliating yourself like this? If you want Povi, go find him! Do you think you're worthy of him in your current state?!" 　　The girl lowered her head, her long hair flowing down, obscuring her burning face, her eyes, and the crimson stain on her lips . " I'm sorry, Father, this was all my choice." 　　No longer looking at her father's twitching face, the girl quietly turned and left. Before going upstairs, Livia stopped turned back. "You're right, I'm not worthy." --------------------------------------------------------------------- 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Transition: The Great Case 　　Naturally, this small incident at the Evening Glory Pavilion went unnoticed by the outside world, and no one 's life changed because of it. The storm that would truly change everyone's lives was still far beyond the horizon, unknown to anyone. 　　For Livia, life seemed to have returned to normal. She spent her days practicing the piano in the music room or riding , and her evenings whiling away at banquets. 　　Slightly different from before, the girl often left early, taking the royal carriage to Dragonwing Castle to talk with Princess Elizabeth. Only each time she returned the next morning… Kelly always had to prepare a bathtub and hot water, and after a long bath, Livia would lie in bed until the afternoon or even dusk. 　　The Marquis of Qifeng, however, no longer inquired about his daughter's whereabouts, spending more time traveling. His companions were no longer his daughter; sometimes it was the enthusiastic Countess Estelle, sometimes simply his worn-out violin. 　　As for Bovy, he seemed to have been tacitly forgotten by everyone. 　　An experienced old fisherman would tell you that there are always signs before a storm. A woodcutter in the mountains would often point you to the first red leaf of August. 　　Just like the banquet five years ago at the Duro Manor where Ivan Pompeii made his debut. It was still at the Duro Manor, only this time the uninvited guest was not (also...) It couldn't be) the gloomy Leo. Night Bat, but rather a hurried official from the Public Security Bureau. 　　After the host of the banquet, Little Pangjiu, was called away, he never returned. Not long after, the heads also left with their families, departing without saying goodbye, completely disregarding whether this was in accordance with etiquette. The banquet, with both hosts and guests absent, ended hastily. 　　Stepping out of Du Ruo Manor, without seeing the carriage with the dragon chrysanthemum pattern, Livia, alone, felt a sense of relief, but a sense of bewilderment welled up inside her. What had happened? 　　The next day, Marquis Qifeng, who had returned from his travels ahead of schedule, brought the girl shocking news. 　　The blood-stained "Executioner of the Capital," the greatest contributor to Abraham's ascension to the throne, the shield and dagger of the Grass Heron Dynasty, one of the two most trusted ministers of the king, who survived 34 assassination attempts in his life... The legendary figure who died, Randolph Pompeii, finally failed to write his 35th chapter in the legend. 　　Unlike Povy's death, the capital city of Beauwan, and indeed the entire city of Willit, was truly in chaos this time. 　　The king's fury set the rusty, long-dormant machinery of violence in motion, unleashing an efficiency never before . 　　The day after news of the duke's death arrived, a list of suspects was swiftly produced. 　　Two weeks later, almost all of the hundreds of suspects were arrested. 　　Almost all of them—except for Ivan Pompeii, the former adopted son of the grand duke, who was prominently listed at the top of the list. 　　This young man, who had severed ties with the Pompeii family and changed his name to Povy Love Song, single- handedly , even injuring one of them. Povy, who successfully resisted arrest, vanished into the vast sea of people. 　　The tragic death of his enemy of over 20 years brought Marquis Qifeng no joy; he had more pressing concerns. Inside the Xiyan Pavilion, Marquis Qifeng and his daughter engaged in a deep conversation they hadn't had in days. 　　"Warren and William have both come to see me. Now, it's truly impossible for you and Bove to have anything going on . What are your plans for the future?" 　　"I intend to accept William's offer." The girl spoke calmly, as if she weren't discussing her life's most important matter. 　　"What!" What surprised the Marquis even more than her attitude was her choice. "Why William? What are you thinking?" 　　"Sometimes, morally reprehensible choices may ultimately be best for everyone. For me now , William is the most ideal partner." 　　"Warren may be too clever, but it's clear to everyone that without Randolph, Pang Jiu will soon be finished." 　　"Yes, Pang Jiu will soon be finished, if only William remains." The girl 　　's answer sent a chill down the Marquis's spine. He finally saw the results of his years of meticulous upbringing , but this was not the form of expression he desired. 　　The King wanted to retrieve his gold, and William wanted to capture his enemy; both men, without prior agreement, temporarily shifted their attention away from Livia . The engaged girl, ironically, enjoyed a rare freedom she hadn't had in over a year. 　　Thus, people saw Livia appearing every evening at the noble gatherings in Beau Bay, always leaving alone afterward, never accepting invitations from friends to ride home together, and even reluctant to join them . 　　Although she attended every gathering, the girl spent most of her time gazing from the terrace, preferably from the third floor.

The terrace—probably where the view was more expansive. However,

it wasn't surprising that Livia had never been interested in the clinking of glasses and gambling.
It was another night like this, and the girl stood on the third-floor balcony, gazing into the distance, silent for a long time. A conversation suddenly drifted from the second-floor terrace

, breaking Livia's reverie.
"Do you think that Ivan kid is already in exile overseas, or committed suicide out of guilt? So

much time has passed, and there's not a sound."
"If you ask me, he'll... uh, you think he... uh, committed suicide out of guilt... uh, flee

overseas ."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you think? Uh, the Pang family's biggest hobby... uh, is playing dead. Their biological son William is

like that , uh, their godson Ivan is like that too. Maybe our old Randolph... uh, right now in

the cellar of the Duro estate, amidst piles of gold... uh, embracing the naked Lady Lerella..."
"You're always so vulgar when you're drunk, don't scare my sister. Here's what we'll do:

after my sister marries you, you're not allowed to drink, all your wine is mine."
"Yes, Your Highness. But at least leave me a bottle a day, uh, a grace period."
"Speaking of the cellar. Heh heh, you wouldn't be eyeing those wines in this cellar, would you...

?"
The voices of the two drunken men faded into the distance.
Livia, who remained silent, was left lost in thought on the third floor. Warren was always hinting at something, testing

something; even when drunk, no one could be sure his outspokenness wasn't a facade.
A leisurely life can never last. That day, William Pangjiu and the head of the Imperial Capital's Security Bureau,

unusually visited the Marquis of Qifeng and his daughter. After the servants were dismissed, the four of them

talked for the entire afternoon in the flower hall of the Xiyan Pavilion. William seemed satisfied when he left.
After seeing William and his party off, the Marquis and his daughter remained silent. Finally, the Marquis broke the ice, trying to make conversation.
"Don't you think? William's proposed plan requires a level of understanding of human nature that seems beyond his

capabilities ."
"Perhaps it was a suggestion from one of his subordinates, which he then presented as a prize. This isn't the first time,"

the girl replied dismissively, her mind seemingly elsewhere.
Another long silence followed, and Livia seemed to have finally made up her mind, or perhaps she had figured something out.
“Father, I have a favor to ask of you. I would like to borrow Locke for a while.”
Eighteen months into Ivan Pangjiu’s escape, a rumor began to circulate—that

Livia San Qifeng

, the woman hailed as the most beautiful in Wilwright, the king’s niece, the daughter of the Marquis of Qifeng, whose dress was worth two hundred thousand gold lumas, was gravely ill and nearing death… There were even

absurd rumors that Livia wanted to see her old lover one last time before she died …
Since the rumors began to spread, Livia had never appeared in public again. She could only

peek out from the thick curtains of the Xiyan Pavilion each day, often for an entire day.
The day 557 days after Greta Feiyu’s death

should . Bovi’s arrival changed everything. He had almost succeeded, disguised as

a delivery coachman, but had actually been loitering around the Xiyan Pavilion for several days. The reconnaissance and counter-reconnaissance techniques he learned at the Intelligence Bureau and practiced diligently over

the past five years rendered

the capital's police, who had spent years idly dealing with petty thugs, completely blind.
If the real coachman hadn't arrived early due to an emergency, Bovi might have actually entered

the Evening Glory Pavilion.
Before the ambushing police could react, the exposed young man charged

towards the manor's entrance like an enraged lion.
Old Locke intercepted him, the sound of hurried footsteps rapidly approaching from behind. The young man let out a desperate

roar and lunged at the old man. Surprisingly, Old Locke didn't use his usual musket, but fought him bare-handed

. The two were evenly matched, locked in a fierce struggle.
The old man seized an opening, whispering something in the young man's ear during close combat. The young man

's movements slowed down. It seemed he could win without bloodshed?
Just then, a sudden change occurred. A deafening gunshot rang out, and Bovi fell. Old Locke stood

up roared disappointedly at the police officers who were eager to claim credit.
Perhaps it was because he himself had just been in close proximity to the gunfire and faced death. He wasn't one of those

noble lords and ladies with winged surnames; he was just a dog kept by the nobility

. They were all the same, and the police from the Sheriff's Office couldn't be bothered with him. They swarmed forward and pinned the blood-stained fugitive to the ground.
After the gunshot, the owner of the Evening Glory Pavilion rushed out into the hall; her beauty momentarily stunned the police.

The young man, struggling on the ground in pain, felt a sense of relief upon seeing the girl, whose beauty remained unchanged.
The girl knelt beside the young man and whispered something to him.
The young man's reply baffled the police officers present: "I know, it's just to give myself an excuse to see

you..."
The girl said something else, her long hair obscuring her expression. The young man struggled even more fiercely

, probably trying to look up and peek. The police, seizing the opportunity to perform, pressed his head firmly into the mud beneath

the grass
The girl, remembering something, shouted to old Locke, "Quick, Locke, go inform Father

!"
Hearing this, the young man suddenly stopped struggling, only convulsing with pain.
Ivan Pangjiu was captured.
In court, the young man only sought death. Even without the servant of the Evening Glory Pavilion testifying about

Bovi's self-disclosure of his evil plan before the duel nearly two years prior, all the evidence, including

the attack plan found in his residence, firmly pointed to him.
Strangely, not long after the trial ended, the servant who testified packed up and left the Evening Glory Pavilion.

Perhaps these noble gentlemen and ladies didn't want their private affairs to be casually publicized by their servants.
Perhaps this really worked; afterwards, no further

gossip . Although Miss Gray Blue left with tears in her eyes, Miss Qi Feng changed into an extra

outfit and did not appear at the Bowan party that evening.
No one knew that after Miss Gray-Blue rushed out of the Evening Glory Pavilion, Livia

stared blankly at the "Queen's Chronicle" in her hands for a long time. When she looked up again, she found that her father, Marquis Qifeng, had been standing quietly at the study door

for a long time, looking at his daughter's face with pain.
Two nights later, the Marquis returned looking exhausted, his shoulders slumped.
"He escaped?" The girl, who had been waiting for so long, asked in a trembling voice, filled with hope and fear, awaiting her

fate .
The Marquis shook his head.
"Then he's dead." The girl's voice lowered.
The Marquis shook his head again.
"Who exactly is he..."
"I went too late. He was too weak; he couldn't have fooled the King or William."
"I understand, Father." The girl's gaze froze.
The Marquis stared intently at Livia, recognizing something, his voice filled with an unprecedented panic.
“I recognize your expression, this is… her expression. Listen to me, there’s always a chance! Believe

me, as long as you’re alive, there’s hope!” The Marquis was shaking the girl’s shoulders violently as

he shouted.
The girl forced a smile. “Yes, Father, as long as you’re alive, there’s hope.”
The prison cart slowly drove out of Bowan City; the road to Zedrick Mountain was long. The girl, her face veiled in black, watched the departing

cart and murmured to herself, “So I will eventually sink into the water alone, destined to live a life without companions.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Act Three: The Night Before the Journey
Perhaps it was fate that Bove was only a passerby in Bowan. Since being brought back to the capital by Randolph six years ago,

his stay in Bowan had never exceeded three months. And this time, it was only a short week. Once out of

sight, he was slowly forgotten.
Except for a few people.
The King wanted his gold back, constantly thinking about it, but deep down he feared

what he didn’t want to hear.
William wanted to slit his own throat; the hatred for his father was irreconcilable. Yet, deep down, he wasn't sure

how Livia would react.
Livia, perhaps, had already forgotten Bovi. The girl now resembled the kingdom's most diligent official, reporting punctually to Duke Pang's mansion

every day , spending busy days with William, burying herself in the ever-mountainous

piles of documents.
Of course, the busyness of the day never interfered with Livia's nightly conversations at Dragonwing Castle. When the king learned of the girl

's new job at the Duke's mansion, his face darkened. From then on, Livia rode in the royal

carriage much more frequently at night.
Conversely, the frequent nightly conversations at Dragonwing Castle never affected the girl's work at the Duke's mansion during the day.

The girl returned early in the morning, no longer catching up on sleep, but after a quick grooming, she set off again.
Even so, Livia became even more radiant and graceful.
Mortal life can be very fulfilling, and fulfilling time always passes quickly, making one easily mistake

such days for lasting forever. Meanwhile, the idle and bored gods, with their mischievous whims, would

manipulate the spinning top of fate, altering its direction and trajectory.
The urgent sound of horses' hooves echoed once more along the post road, just as it had two years prior with the news of Grand Duke Greta Jade's death. This time,

the message carried the same message from
Ivan the Griffin. In his sixth month of imprisonment, Ivan the Griffin, single-handedly and despite his chronic illness, killed guards, seized

control of the prison, and launched a massive prison riot—the most unseen in a century—resulting in the deaths of three hundred guards and prisoners

overnight . The mastermind himself, however, succumbed to drug withdrawal and collapsed like a dead dog

on the south tower of the prison. He neither escaped in the chaos nor perished in the hail of arrows like the other prisoners. After the riot

, he was returned to the dungeon.
The undercurrents beneath the calm surface began to stir once more.
On the third day after news of the hysteriac riot reached the capital, Livia, as usual,

returned early in the morning from Dragonwing Castle, exhausted from a sleepless night. Kelly took her mistress's coat and, along with a hot towel,

presented her with a letter.
"Kelly, where did this letter come from?" The maid, who was about to prepare the bathtub, was called back by

her mistress .
"A lady brought it this morning. She showed me her credentials, but refused to come in and wait."
"Hmm, have Locke prepare the horse; I'm going out in a bit."
"Is it to the Duke's mansion? I'll go get Locke the carriage right away."
"No, I want to go outside and clear my head. It's been a long time since I rode a horse."
Lake Collier in southern Bowan is one of the eight scenic spots near the capital. However, now is hardly

the best time for sightseeing. The autumn leaves on the mountains have all fallen, leaving only bare, unsightly branches, and it's too early to see snow.
A slender figure sat by the lake, her face veiled in the hood of her cloak, casually

tossing , even though the pairs of swans had long since flown south.
In the distance, a magnificent horse approached rapidly, the rider crouching low. In an instant, the horse reached

the lake, let out a long neigh, raised its hooves high, then brought them to a sudden stop. The rider calmed his horse, removed his

hood, and loosened his tightly bound black hair.
The tourists by the lake had already risen to greet him, their hoods pulled back to reveal a handsome face.
The rider dismounted. "Miss Greta Jade, a pleasure to meet you. I am Leviathan. Qifeng."
The prison bombing incident had once again left the abducted king brooding at his desk.
Was Ivan Pangjiu a messenger from hell, or a harbinger of disaster? Since he appeared in the world's

sights six years ago, countless people in Wilwright have died tragically or met untimely ends because of him. Whether it was

the Cynthia faction plotting to assassinate the king, or the loyal Grand Duke Pang Jiu, now Hysteria Prison is nearly empty. It seems that

wherever he goes, he always carries with him a storm of bloodshed.
Should they keep him alive until who knows when he'll reveal the gold's whereabouts, or kill him to nip

this source of trouble in the bud? Six months in Hysteria without a confession, and three hundred lives lost—

what kind of disaster will this character bring in the future?
He wondered how Livia had tamed that dangerous leopard.
Thinking of Livia, the King's gaze fell on another report on his desk, detailing a minor incident at the Evening Glory Pavilion

a few days —how Lady Pompompurin had

shoved the drunken young duke from his bed.
William's petition, vehemently demanding the execution of the ringleaders of the hysterical riot, seemed likely related to this

.
Each time he read this secret report about the Evening Glory Pavilion, the King couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pleasure.
Out of jealousy, the King had ordered his men to closely monitor any intimate actions William might take towards Livia.
Although Livia's first night, the second night, and many nights afterward belonged to him,

the thought that her alluring body, which had once belonged only to him, would soon be writhing under another man's body

was extremely unsettling.
The human heart is never satisfied. More than two years ago, on that night, Abraham had told himself that he only

needed the memory of that one night, regardless of whether the most beautiful flower in the capital had already been visited by rain and dew.

After , Abraham considered stopping there. However, the towering peaks, the slender waist, the tight pressure,

the melodious moans, the face alternating between pain and excitement, paleness and flush—all these drove the king to the brink of madness,

his desire burning ever brighter. Thus came the second night, and countless more beautiful nights to come.

Now, every appearance of William reminded Abraham that he simply could not bear

the reality that the beautiful phoenix would soon sing for another.
In truth, after these years together, Abraham had discovered that William was indeed incapable of great responsibility, far inferior to

his father . The work that the new Grand Duke of Pontius Pius should have shouldered was now largely being

carried out by Livia. The turmoil and rumors of four years ago seemed to have some basis.
And Livia, in turn, seemed to relish the work that was traditionally a man's domain. So, it turned out that what the girl was interested in

wasn't jewels and fine clothes, but power?
What was that old saying again? Power is the best aphrodisiac. However, while others desire

the benefits and enjoyment that power brings, young Livia desires power itself.
Actually, it's quite easy. A strange thought surfaced in the King's mind.
The Pontius Pierre family now only has William as a man; even the branches are extinct. If William

dies without leaving an heir, Livia can still retain the title of Duchess of Pontius Pierre and inherit a large fortune, just like the Marquis of

Qifeng 's girlfriend—what was her name again, Countess Estelle? But the Pontius Pierre family's authority would have to be returned

to the royal family, and he would have to worry about filling the power vacuum in the Pontius Pierre family and checking the dominance of the Grey-Blue family.
But what if William left behind a child? Then Livia could continue to wield the power of the Pontius Pierre

family . After all, the girl has been doing a very good job, while William is merely

a puppet stamping documents and reciting lines in front of others. Such a generous gift would not only get rid of this troublesome

obstacle but would also surely be enough to please the girl.
Besides, the child doesn't necessarily have to be Pang Jiu's. If the king says so, who dares to say otherwise!

As long as the wedding date and Livia's menstrual cycle are known in advance, the dates are calculated, Josie can

replace the original contraceptive potion with a herbal tea to promote uterine contractions, and with a little more effort, the girl can become pregnant early. On their wedding night, the horned

man will have no purpose, and it's best if he doesn't even let Livia touch his little hand.
Old friend, at least your name can live on. The guilt towards his deceased old friend was only

a fleeting thought in the king's heart. Abraham's conscience was always easily appeased; otherwise,

it would probably .
A monarch doesn't need to worry about every little detail; he only needs to manage his people. As the sages once said, warriors subdue enemies with

swords , generals conquer the world with soldiers, and kings rule the world with their claws and teeth. Didn't he himself

easily gain the world by using Alexander and Randolph? The king, long since too lazy to think, was smugly pleased with himself for

coming up with such a brilliant idea, grinning and nodding to himself.
The night was still young, and the gathering of the nobles of Bowan had not yet reached its climax. The Dragon Wing

Chrysanthemum Royal Hall, which should have been empty and dark by this time, was still brightly lit.
His Majesty the King had summoned William Pangjiu there to discuss the final punishment for the mastermind behind the prison bombing incident, and

for some reason, the prospective Mrs. Pangjiu was the third person in the room.
Autumn had arrived, but the summer heat lingered. Livia wore a sleeveless, low-cut evening gown, exuding breathtaking

beauty; the deep cleavage between her ample breasts was endlessly alluring. The king, whose spirits had been rising lately, seemed to be

brewing some joyous occasion, and looked considerably younger.
"So, it's settled then? Livia-san, I'll have to trouble you to make the trip yourself this time," the king said with a sigh of

relief
Livia, please reconsider; after all, it's too dangerous," William earnestly pleaded.
“Don’t worry, it’s my duty to share the king’s burdens. Besides, Bill, didn’t you want me to prove it to

you?” The girl smiled radiantly, filling the room with light.
The speechless William was at a loss for words. Listening to the intimate terms of address and sharing of secrets between the betrothed, a shadow crossed the king’s

eyes .
With official business settled, William and Livia prepared to leave.
“Wait, Livia-san. Since you’re leaving soon, stay and keep

Elizabeth company ; she’s been clamoring to see you every day.”
As she spoke, the middle-aged maid Milady appeared at another doorway. The girl trembled slightly, curtsied

, and left with Milady. Turning away, the girl clearly saw the king’s

face contorted with rage and hatred as he watched William’s departing figure.
Entering the long corridor between the royal hall and the bedchamber, out of the king's sight, Milady, walking ahead

, whispered, "Be careful, girl. I can tell you're playing with fire. I truly underestimated you; I never imagined you had

such a bold heart."
The girl remained silent, as if the maid had said nothing. Milady also fell silent, leading the

way . The two, each lost in their own thoughts, walked through the opulent splendor.
When the king deliberately took a different route to the bedchamber, Livia had already removed all her clothes...

She lay on her back on the palace bed, naked, her face expressionless. The king, his breathing quickening, stepped forward and forcefully

grabbed one of her breasts.
Since the second night, the king had rarely removed her clothes himself. If Livia didn't

do it, Abraham would often impatiently tear at them after only a few garments, snapping buttons flying off.
This expression on her face was exactly what the king could never get enough of. Her
icy demeanor and expression always ignited his desire, driving him to tear

this flower of the capital apart with the urge to forcefully squeeze, knead, ravage, trample, and thrust. He felt that

dazzlingly white, sculpted body slowly blush and become fiery under his manipulation. He watched her

once expressionless face transform into clenched teeth, labored breathing, and then into a radiant spring,

her brows , tears of excitement streaming down her cheeks.
This was truly the ultimate pleasure.
When the girl was awake in bed, she never disobeyed the king's orders, even allowing him

to spray his semen onto her face and chest at close range, without resistance. Strangely, she never actively

sought pleasure. When aroused by his ministrations, tears would stream down her face, and she would weakly pound his chest. Only

when she was lost in ecstasy at orgasm would she cling tightly to the king, letting her unrestrained moans and cries release all

her pent-up desire. Every position here offered Abraham a different allure and stimulation, captivating him

without ever growing weary.
Night had fallen. The couple in the palace had begun their second round of passion.
This time, the king lay supine on the palace bed, and Livia straddled him, tears streaming down her face, panting,

rising and falling with force.
Burning with passion, her body swayed back and forth as she rose and fell, her hands seemingly unsure of where to find

support . Sometimes she would bury her face in her hair, forcefully pulling her tangled strands back, sometimes

she would lean back against the man's legs, seeking a foothold.
Her waist-length hair obscured her face, swaying with the rise and fall of her body. Beads of sweat seeped out,

slowly trickling down her skin before being flung away by the violent movements.
The girl's breasts were controlled by the man's large hands beneath her, their up-and-down movement and back-and-forth swaying rhythm entirely

controlled by these hands. With each arch of her back and forth, the man beneath her enjoyed the unparalleled sensation,

no matter how many times he played with them, those full breasts showed no sign of sagging, remaining so plump and full, never tiring.
Controlled, her body controlled, her mind seemed to be controlled as well. Those shapely legs,

honed , were used by Livia to provide the motivation for her humiliation. Her pubic hair, carefully trimmed into small

tufts, merely provided visual stimulation for her benefactor, completely exposing the rose-colored petals. The purplish-red,

ferocious penis stood erect, thrusting in and out of the flower's core. No, in fact, it was that alluring, man-eating flower actively

swallowing and spitting out the penis.
"I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm about to die," Livia thought groggily.
Her body seemed to have formed a memory of the man beneath her. It was becoming easier and easier to arouse her.

Her movements and coordination with the obese, bloated body beneath her were becoming better and better. The moment of losing her reason was drawing ever

closer.
As if knowing that the girl was now delirious with lust, his hands left Livia's breasts and placed

on her full buttocks, squeezing and kneading them forcefully, responding to her rhythm, adding a bit of force with each downward thrust

, making her sink even deeper. And the unconscious Livia, without realizing it, placed her hands on her empty

breasts , kneading and playing with them on her own.
Stimulated by this bizarre sight, the king felt his veins throbbing violently in his temples, about to explode.
"No matter what, you are mine, no one can take you away, what Ivan, what William, all of you can die!"

Abraham roared uncontrollably, expressing the darkest desire in his heart.
"I...I...I am..." The girl's voice, distorted, instinctively tried to answer, but her damaged

nerves were incapable of forming meaningful words. The rapidly accelerating pace pushed her to the brink of explosion.
A thunderous roar of excitement resounded simultaneously in Livia and Abraham's brains. The penis

ejaculated a thick, hot, white fluid into the flower chamber hidden deep within the flower's core, so much so that

white foam overflowed from between the tightly joined petals and the shaft.
White saliva also spilled from the corners of the girl's mouth. Her reclining body tensed into an arch, her breasts, swollen to their limit

, hardened completely with the slight tremor of her body, turning into two small red buds that became hard

pebbles .
Then, Livia, devoid of strength and consciousness, collapsed, lying prone on the king's chest, letting

the man embrace and caress her. Their lower bodies remained tightly joined...
Early the next morning, upon returning from Dragonwing Castle, Livia once again broke her usual routine, neither going to the Duke's mansion nor

staying in bed to rest. In the kitchen of Xiyan Pavilion, the servants had all been dismissed, leaving only Miss Qifeng

busy at work.
Her waist-length black hair was styled into a bun at the back of her head, and her sleeves, rolled up high, revealed her fair arms . A silver

bracelet jingled on her right wrist.
Flour, eggs, cream, sugar, and various other ingredients, both familiar and unfamiliar, needed to be thoroughly

mixed and kneaded before being poured into molds and baked.
As she busied herself, the girl, for some reason, recalled a scene she had witnessed as a child playing in the northern countryside.

The village witches, while brewing herbs, would vigorously stir the liquid in a large pot, singing folk

songs in varying pitches.
Thinking of this, the girl softly hummed a song from her memory: "
We cook, we cook, four parts longing, three parts youth, two parts love, one part innocence,

brewing into the honey of happiness, brewing into the wine of regret.
My love, it's all in your heart."
We boil, we boil, the tears of the white swan, the tender buds of the red reed, the blood of the unicorn,

the molted scales of the mermaid, boil them into a deadly poison, boil them into a sleeping pill.
My love, it all depends on your single thought.
...
The song gradually faded, finally ceasing. Crystalline droplets fell to the ground, splashing up

tiny ripples. Was it sweat? Was it tears? The same bitter taste made it impossible to tell.
Epilogue One: The Curtain Falls
Ten days later, the girl and the king's envoy brought back news from the hysteria prison on Mount Zedric

: Ivan Pompeii, the adopted son of the former Grand Duke Greta Jade, the burial master of the Cynthia faction, the most outstanding sentinel of the past twenty years, and also

the most cunning and comical criminal, the former lover of the most beautiful woman in the capital,

the prisoner who took three hundred lives in one night at the hysteria prison, the man who called himself Povi Love Song, had committed suicide in prison out of fear of punishment.
Epilogue Two: New Overture
A cold wind blew, winter had arrived. On the summit of Mount Coril, a young man with a scarred face and beard.

The mountain wind occasionally fluttered the hem of his coat, a middle-aged woman supporting him from behind. Another gust of wind blew by, and

the man coughed violently, only after a while straightening up and spitting out a mouthful of bloody phlegm. His eyes were fixed

on the gradually lighting up of Bowan City and Dragonwing Castle below the mountain, his hoarse voice overflowing with a beastly fervor.
"Alright, let's have a showdown then! Leviathan, since you're going to save this country for them,

then I'll smash Willright to pieces right in front of you

.
"

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