Early the next morning, sunlight streamed through the crystal domes of Alanticia’s inner palace.
Emilia was already awake, bustling around her room as she packed her belongings.
She was determined to return to Wahles immediately — to deliver the truth about Margaret’s identity to her parents.

“I’ll be back soon! There’s no time to waste — everyone must hear about this as soon as possible!”
Emilia’s voice was bright, filled with excitement and urgency.

Before she left, Margaret handed her a small wooden box, smiling softly.

“You go ahead, sis. This is something I made for you — don’t open it until later, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it~”
Emilia grinned, tucked the box into her coat pocket, and left with her escort.

Margaret watched her go, the gentle smile still lingering on her lips.
Then she turned to Corvin.

“Let’s go.”

The two followed a servant deeper into the palace halls.
Neither of them noticed the figure hiding behind the marble column — lips curling into a cold, silent smile.

A few hours later, in the Duchy of Wahles.

As soon as Emilia returned, she could no longer contain her curiosity.
Before even meeting her parents, she sat beneath the familiar old tree in the garden and pulled out the box from her pocket.

“Now what trick is that kid up to this time…? Still, she’s so sweet.”

Click.

The lid popped open.

Emilia tilted her head, peering inside.
There was only a small black teardrop-shaped gem, framed with dull silver.

“Hmm… jewelry? Or maybe some kind of charm?”
She lifted it up, turning it in the sunlight.

Then—
Crack.

A faint fracture spread across the gem’s surface.

Emilia froze.

“What the…? What’s happening…?”

Before she could react, a surge of cold, heavy darkness poured out of the stone — spilling like ink dissolving in water.

The air grew thick. Even the sound of wind vanished.
Emilia stumbled back, instinctively throwing the gem to the ground — but it was too late.

The dark mist erupted upward, twisting violently into a chaotic vortex of magic.
A shrill, distorted scream echoed through the garden.

Emilia’s hand gripped the hilt of her sword, her eyes locked on the swirling black mass.

“What the hell is going on…? Margaret, what did you give me…? What is this thing!?”

Within the darkness, a faint figure began to take shape — a silhouette of a woman, her long black hair flowing, her eyes glowing violet.

Before Emilia could move, the shadow lunged straight into her — merging with her body.

Her green eyes flared into a brilliant, unnatural violet.

BOOM!

The entire garden quaked.
The magical barrier surrounding the Wahles estate blazed bright gold, screaming an alarm of intrusion.

Servants rushed in, but the moment they touched the black aura encasing Emilia, they were thrown back as if struck by lightning.

Meanwhile, back in Alanticia.

Margaret jolted upright.

“Emilia…?”

She had secretly placed a protective spell on her sister before she left — a faint thread that now pulsed in distress.

Corvin, standing by the stone balcony, turned sharply.

“You can sense something’s wrong with Emilia?”

He closed his eyes, extending his hand.

“Let me check. Give me a moment.”

A vision shimmered on the surface of conjured water — a mirror of magic.
Corvin’s voice grew grim.

“Hmph… something’s been opened.
And I’d bet it’s not the gift you made.
You gave her that ornament for her sword, didn’t you? I saw you wrapping it last night.”

Margaret’s heart skipped.
Her gaze darted to the wooden box still lying on the table.

“Wait… that can’t be—
Was that box… a seal for a demon artifact?”

Her voice trembled, panic welling up in her chest.

“No… no, that’s impossible! I swear I saw myself—”

Corvin’s expression hardened, eyes sharp as steel.