Chapter 6: The First Mission of the Contract

It wasn't my voice. That cold, arrogant voice, steeped in centuries of resentment, had definitely echoed from my vocal cords, but I was merely a spectator trapped inside my own body.

"The child who inherited the traitor’s blood."

I felt like I was suffocating on the killing intent of the words I had just spoken.

Rixian de Valois's icy expression had shattered in shock for only an instant. The next moment, all emotion vanished from his face, replaced by a jet-black rage—no, by a killing intent even deeper and colder than that.

He was the sole survivor of the Valois family, which had fallen to treason. The phrase ‘traitor’s blood’ had just struck his deepest wound, the one line that should never be crossed.

"Just now…"

His voice was a low rumble, like roiling lava.

"What did you say?"

He moved. In one step, just a single step, the distance between us vanished. His pathological aversion to contact, his mysophobia, was powerless against his murderous rage.

His white-gloved hand shot out, as if to grab me by the throat—no, it was grabbing me. He gripped my slender neck roughly, and my breath caught with a strangled "Kkgh!" "You... You dare..." His blue eyes blazed. He looked ready to snap my neck right then and there. I was too terrified to even scream. The 'Empress' inside me sneered at him, but my body was already trembling from lack of oxygen.

It was at that exact moment.

KWAAAA—!

The 'First Empress’s Mirror,' which had been watching our standoff, erupted in a violent blue light, as if in anger. The restored surface of the mirror rippled like a wave, unleashing a pure magic that pushed back all the shadows in the room.

"Kkeugh…!" The light wasn't pushing Rixian away. It was aimed only at me, at the foreign entity inside me. Like a spirit touched by holy water, the 'Empress' inside me shrieked in agony.

'This… this mirror…! How dare it…!'

As the price for having expelled all its tragic memories, the mirror was refusing to be bound by the past resentment any longer. The blue light was forcibly dragging the specter inside me, trying to seal it back within the glass.

"No! No…!" I screamed in my own voice, writhing on the floor. My head felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles all over again. And from the backlash, my consciousness, like a candle in a raging storm... went out.

***

When I opened my eyes, the first thing that hit me was the unfamiliar scent of antiseptic and the clean smell of dry linen. My entire body felt heavy, as if it were waterlogged cotton.

I slowly blinked, scanning my surroundings. This wasn't the prison-like appraisal chamber of obsidian. It was a neat, white room, filled with warm sunlight. The palace infirmary, it seemed.

I reflexively touched my neck. Thankfully, the pain from Rixian's grip was gone, but the chilling sensation was still vivid.

"..." Just then, I sensed someone. Sitting in a chair in the corner of the room was him. Rixian de Valois.

He sat with his legs crossed, dressed in his immaculate uniform, as if the earlier chaos had never happened. He saw that I was awake but said nothing. He just stared at me with his usual cold face, his emotionless blue eyes.

It was as if the murderous man who had choked me last night was a different person. No, he had simply reverted to the form of a predator, coldly observing its cornered prey before deciding its next move.

"...You've been asleep for half a day."

He spoke first. His voice was devoid of any emotion.

I forced my dry lips to move. "...Your Grace." "Your memory." He cut me off. "How much of it do you have?"

He was asking about the moment I was possessed by the 'Empress.' Deep in his eyes, an unextinguished ember still glowed beneath the ice. He had not forgotten those insulting words: 'traitor's blood.'

I could neither lie nor tell the truth here.

"...So many memories flooded in at once… Most of it is..." I clutched my head, pretending to be confused and in pain.

Thankfully, he didn't press further. Instead, he rose from his chair and approached my bedside. His shadow fell over me completely.

"While you were unconscious, I had that mirror investigated again."

I tensed at his words.

"I have no interest in the Empress's memories. But those craftsmen who tried to restore it…" His eyes narrowed. "Their memories turned out to be quite interesting. I discovered that the last one to go mad made contact with someone from the 'Sforza Merchant Guild' right before he died."

Sforza! I stopped breathing. Valerius Sforza. The mastermind who had orchestrated my ruin in my past life, the one who had manipulated Cassian and Seraphina. To hear that name from Rixian's lips...

"He started seeing hallucinations right after testing a 'mysterious pigment' from the guild. Hallucinations of the Empress."

Rixian's eyes flashed with killing intent. He was burning with anger, not at the insult of 'traitor's blood,' but at the greater enemy, 'Sforza,' who was maneuvering in the empire's shadows. He was looking at something else entirely.

Finally, he turned his gaze back to me. This was an extension of his test. "Did your eyes... also see a 'merchant'?"

My heart began to pound. This was an opportunity. Rixian de Valois didn't want the Empress's memories from me; he wanted clues about Sforza.

I frantically rewound my memory. When the mirror's memories had overwhelmed me, in that chaos… a faint vision. The Empress's despair, the craftsmen's terror, and somewhere in the background of it all… the silhouette of a man, standing in the darkness, smiling in satisfaction. Yes, he was definitely there.

I couldn't miss this chance. This was my only chance to elevate myself from his tool to an equal party in a transaction.

I put on my best performance of weakness and spoke in a strained, hoarse voice. "...I saw him." Rixian's eyebrow twitched minutely. "In the Empress's memories… faintly. When all the tragedies began… there was a man smiling by her side…"

I pushed myself up in the bed and looked him straight in his blue eyes. "Let's make a deal, Your Grace."

A flicker of interest crossed Rixian's eyes.

"Help me with my revenge first." I glanced down at my bandaged wrist—the wound Cassian had left. "If you help me destroy what I want with my own hands… I will tell you everything I saw about that 'merchant'."

Silence fell. He stared at me, as if to see right through me, weighing the value of my offer and the size of my audacity. Would he really care about my petty revenge?

A thin, icy smile formed on his lips. It wasn't a human smile. It was the smile of a predator that had just found much larger, more dangerous prey.

"Fine." He agreed, far too easily.

"I'm already aware that your targets are the second son of Marquis Argen and the daughter of Baron Lafont."

He really had investigated everything about me. Rixian reached into the inner pocket of his black uniform without hesitation and pulled out an invitation. He tossed it onto my bed.

It was a lavish invitation with gold embossing. [The Imperial Palace Spring Blossom Festival Banquet]. The date was three days from now.

When I looked at him in confusion, he gave a cruel smile and said, "A fitting stage has just been set."

He tapped the invitation on the bed with a gloved finger.

"At that banquet, your 'friend,' Seraphina de Lafont, is scheduled to present a portrait she painted to His Majesty the Emperor."

Seraphina. My heart froze solid. In my past life, she had used that very portrait to win the Emperor's favor and rise to the pinnacle of imperial society. It was the first piece of the honor that had been stolen from me.

Rixian leaned down over my bed. His cold breath was so close I could almost feel it on my cheek.

"Go as my partner, Eliana Bester." His blue eyes captured my lime-green ones. "At your enemy's most brilliant moment, in front of all the empire's nobles and His Majesty the Emperor."

He held my gaze, his low voice like cracking ice as he gave the order. "With that 'Eye of Truth' of yours, you will prove that her painting is nothing but a disgusting forgery."

He wasn't handing me a sword for my revenge. He was ordering me to become the sword and pierce my enemy's heart myself.

He straightened up and added one last thing. "This is the first mission of our contract."

I stared down at the lavish invitation on my bed. My fingertips were trembling. Not from fear. But from a terrible, thrilling joy, and an ice-cold thirst for revenge.

Seraphina de Lafont. Your most brilliant stage is about to become your guillotine.