At dusk, the annual Audience Banquet within the Temple of the Goddess of Beauty was still underway. In the main venue, the Opera Hall, the performances of song and dance continued in full flourish. Passionate dancers twirled and leapt on the stage, and all eyes in the audience were fixed upon them, mesmerized by the dazzling display. Aside from the music and the sound of footsteps, the entire hall was silent—serene and harmonious on the surface.
Yet beneath that calm, a fierce undercurrent churned. Mystical forces from multiple directions and origins were converging and overlapping, influencing the scene invisibly. Though all seemed peaceful to the eye, a heated mystical struggle was already in full swing, some of it even involving Crimson-rank power.
Within the ballroom, two powerful Consular forces from Falano’s government had locked horns. On stage, the dancer Sandrina was fiercely contesting control over the Bourbon remnants with Dorothy, aided by her own abilities and the amplifying power of the stage. Thanks to the stage’s support, Sandrina’s power over desire continued to grow. She could sense that the mysterious force opposing her was starting to waver—she was gradually gaining the upper hand. The process was slow but steady, and Sandrina could already see the moment she would fully wrest control of the Bourbons.
As the mystical struggle intensified, the Bourbon remnants’ bodies began to twitch and spasm. After a prolonged contest, Sandrina finally overwhelmed her opponent, and at the peak of the stage’s amplifying effect, she seized control. A smug smile crept across her lips.
“You couldn’t beat me in the end… Adèle’s little accomplice…”
Thinking this, Sandrina waved her hand and fully activated the killing intent buried deep within the Bourbons toward Samson. The immense bloodlust granted these mortals inhuman willpower. They broke free of the opposing control, clenching their teeth, ready to charge toward the main guest platform.
But just then, the control power that Sandrina had seemingly defeated suddenly surged back to full strength—instantly matching her current level. The charging Bourbons' bodies were suddenly immobilized, and their momentum caused them to tumble to the floor, creating chaos. Yet, as the audience remained spellbound by Sandrina’s performance, no one noticed anything was wrong.
“Impossible! Why did that power suddenly strengthen again?!”
Frowning, Sandrina could not comprehend how the force she’d overpowered had returned to match her. Could the other party have used a mystical booster or an enhancing sigil?
Though full of doubts, Sandrina reacted instantly—she tried once more to retake control. But it wasn’t easy. Her power, already amplified to the stage’s maximum, couldn’t go any higher. Winning back control under such constraints was extremely difficult.
“Damn it… if this keeps up, I’ll have to… Hm?”
Just as she was considering other options, the opposing power suddenly began to waver again, its strength fluctuating violently before slowly diminishing. Sandrina found herself once more gaining ground, regaining control of the Bourbons.
“Heh… so it was just a temporary boost after all…”
Judging the sudden surge as a fleeting stimulant effect, Sandrina canceled her alternative plans and returned to the tug-of-war, continuing to drain her unseen opponent’s will while regaining control over the Bourbons’ bodies.
As she reasserted control, she commanded the Bourbons to stand and resume their charge. But after only a few steps, the opposing power once again flared up—returning to equal strength. The Bourbons collapsed again mid-stride, convulsing and falling into disarray.
“Tch… when will this end?!”
Sandrina ground her teeth in frustration. She didn’t understand why the opposing force, which had weakened moments earlier, had suddenly flared up again. Even so, she tenaciously maintained her struggle for control. But just as she was on the verge of giving up, that same power began to weaken again. The Bourbons stood and staggered forward—only to collapse once more a few steps later as the opposing force surged again.
And so… the cycle repeated.
Sandrina and the mysterious force entered a maddening loop of contest and reversal. Each time she thought victory was in reach, it was snatched away. The constant near-success only to fail again and again drove her deeper into agitation.
This was all part of Dorothy’s plan.
Sensing that Sandrina had reached her peak and could not break her marionette control, Dorothy deliberately weakened her own force at intervals—feigning vulnerability to give Sandrina hope. Just when Sandrina succeeded in controlling the Bourbons, Dorothy would strengthen her grip again and block her. Then, before Sandrina could lose interest, she would weaken again—baiting her back into the struggle.
Dorothy’s goal was to stall for time—to keep Sandrina’s focus locked on their tug-of-war, continually disrupting her attempts and feeding her hope of eventual success. But in truth, all of her efforts were futile.
At first, this strategy worked perfectly. Sandrina invested all her energy into regaining control. But after several frustrating cycles, she began to realize something was wrong. No matter how close she seemed to success, her opponent’s strength always recovered just in time. Her frustration peaked—until her patience finally snapped.
“Damn it all! You can have them! Play with them yourself!”
With a furious snarl, Sandrina waved her hand and relinquished all control over the Bourbons. She shifted her focus to the rest of the guests—targeting those who held grievances against Samson. Amplifying even the smallest discontent, she inflated them into overwhelming hatred in an instant.
As a politician, Samson naturally had many enemies—not just among the Bourbon remnants. Plenty of Falano officials present also harbored resentment toward him. Originally, Sandrina planned to pin the assassination on the Bourbons—using them would be ideal. But now that they were uncontrollable, she had no choice but to use others, even if it meant dealing with messier aftermath and fabricating new links between the attackers and the Bourbons.
“As expected… that force only affected the Bourbons. It must’ve been prepared specifically for them.”
After switching targets, Sandrina noticed that the mysterious opposing force no longer reappeared. This confirmed her suspicion that the opponent had only laid preparations on the Bourbons, not the other guests.
Under Sandrina’s influence, seven or eight guests who held the deepest grudges against Samson suddenly stopped watching the dance. They turned their burning eyes toward the main platform. Rage erupted from them like flames. One by one, they grabbed whatever nearby object could serve as a weapon and charged straight for Samson.
But on their path—blocking the way to the main guest platform—stood several figures in servant attire, who had clearly been waiting there.
As the enraged guests lunged forward, the "servants" met them with fists. In just a few punches, each attacker was knocked out cold.
These were Dorothy’s corpse marionettes, stationed ahead of time to guard against precisely this kind of scenario.
“Hmph… she came quite prepared, didn’t she…”
Sensing what had happened, Sandrina stifled her growing agitation and let out a cold snort—then moved on to her next tactic.
Sandrina, mid-dance, suddenly swept her arm and took control of a guest who harbored an abnormal obsession with her. She instantly amplified a twisted desire buried deep in his heart a thousandfold, then released him to lunge at her.
“Miss Sandrina! You’re mine! Let me taste you!”
At Sandrina’s deliberate provocation, the crazed guest snatched a dinner knife and sprinted toward the stage, eyes burning with frenzied lust, seemingly ready to dismember Sandrina with his blade. Everyone in the hall witnessed this scene.
Most of the guests in the opera hall were under Sandrina’s charm. Seeing her about to be assaulted, a wave of hostility instantly rose in their hearts toward the attacker. They reflexively wanted to protect Sandrina and lash out at the guest. Sandrina seized on this collective desire the moment it surfaced—magnifying and redirecting it, shifting their aggression onto the main guest platform, toward Samson.
In an instant, nearly all the guests in the hall turned their eyes toward Samson, their gazes seething with murderous intent—including even some of Samson’s bodyguards… and even Samson himself.
“I’ve won…”
Freezing the attacker’s motion, Sandrina watched the scene with triumphant joy in her eyes. With so many under her influence, no one could stop her.
On the platform, several of Samson’s bodyguards raised their handguns and pressed them to the very head they were meant to protect. Samson himself, terror-stricken, picked up a fork and held it against his throat. With waves of killing intent locking in from all directions, his fate seemed sealed. Sandrina smiled—she had secured her victory. As long as she didn’t care how low she stooped, no one could stop her.
But just as the fatal moment arrived, a sudden shift occurred.
As everyone prepared to act on their murderous impulse, an invisible force swept across the Opera Hall, stilling every motion. Those ready to kill froze in place. The entire scene felt as though someone had hit a pause button.
“What…”
Stunned, Sandrina widened her eyes in disbelief. She could sense it clearly: her control over desire had once again met competition. Another powerful and unseen force had, in that instant, affected everyone in the hall. This mysterious power, on par with hers, immediately suppressed her control and brought everything to a halt.
“What was happening? Was Adèle’s accomplice interfering again? But hadn’t they already proven incapable of influencing anyone outside the Bourbon group? How did this happen? Where had such a powerful and widespread force come from?”
Her mind raced with questions—until a low rumble drew her attention. She turned toward the sound and saw the grand door connecting the Dome Hall and the Ceremonial Plaza slowly opening with a click of mechanisms. Through the widening gap, she caught a glimpse of what lay beyond.
There, under the fading twilight of dusk, a large crowd surrounded the massive Fountain of Dawn, their dazed gazes fixed ahead. Atop the fountain, amidst the brilliant display of water, a gorgeously dressed figure danced gracefully upon a continuously rising stream of water.
It was Adèle, adorned in King Charles’s ceremonial performance regalia. She danced atop the water lily stage, drawn by the water jets forming lotus petals. In the glow of twilight and amidst the sparkling spray, her every movement captured the Ceremonial Plaza’s full attention.
Even in such elaborate attire, Adèle’s dance was flawlessly fluid. Unlike Sandrina’s bold and provocative routine, hers carried no lustful hints. It was regal, elegant, and graceful—with every lift and gesture imbued with noble dignity.
Her performance was that of traditional Falano courtly dance, refined and aristocratic—an ideal match for the lavish Temple of the Goddess of Beauty, and wholly incompatible with Sandrina’s vulgarity. Upon seeing Adèle’s performance, Sandrina couldn’t help but spit her name in fury.
“Adèle… it’s you… This level of Desire Path power—you found the second stage, didn’t you? When…?”
Looking toward Adèle, now dancing atop the Fountain of Dawn, Sandrina spoke bitterly. She understood clearly: with Adèle’s own power as a Beyonder of the Desire Path, she should not have been able to contend with Sandrina and her stage amplification. This meant only one thing—Adèle had found a stage of her own.
Among the three stages left behind in the Temple of the Goddess of Beauty by King Charles, the second stage was precisely the one hidden beneath the Fountain of Dawn. When Dorothy had examined the fountains’ bizarre and varied waterworks, she wondered if one could manipulate the jets to form a seven-petal lotus. Upon further investigation, she confirmed only one fountain had the capability for such transformation—this one.
Thus, Dorothy had used her corpse marionettes to retrieve Charles’s ceremonial attire and had Adèle wear it. Then she had Adèle control the fountain’s jets to create the seven-petal lotus water formation. Once Adèle ascended the second stage and began dancing, she could harness its amplification for the Desire Path.
However, this amplification was gradual. Adèle needed to dance for a while before reaching full power. Since Sandrina had started first, she would reach her peak faster—so Dorothy had to stall Sandrina, buying time for Adèle’s growth.
Now, with Adèle’s amplification at its peak, Dorothy opened the doors of the Dome Hall, allowing Adèle to face Sandrina directly. Adèle, in turn, swiftly used her power to suppress Sandrina, bringing the opera hall back to a deadlock.
And so, along the central axis of the temple, Sandrina and Adèle now faced each other—across the grand hall—locked in a silent, competing dance. Two masters of desire squared off, their powers locked in a subtle equilibrium that plunged the entire hall into stillness.
Both dancers pushed their powers to the limit. Neither could overcome the other just yet. Sandrina’s eyes grew more venomous, and her jaw clenched. She was beginning to realize the battle was not in her favor.
But then, as her gaze passed through the open doorway toward the distant horizon, her frown vanished. A smile returned to her lips.
“Time… is almost up…”
Looking at the sun hovering near the edge of the world, Sandrina mused.
Although Adèle now wielded a stage of her own and could stand as her equal, Sandrina knew it wouldn’t matter. Time was on her side.
*Adèle… did you really think that finding the second stage would let you challenge me? Heh… maybe on any other day that would’ve worked—but not today. Today is the Audience Banquet. Today is different.
“Soon, you’ll understand why today is called the Audience Banquet! You may wear Charles’s costume and dance upon the second stage—but the true King of Ceremonial Attire has always performed on the first stage! The first stage is unmatched, irreplaceable, the most exalted!”
Still dancing, Sandrina thought proudly to herself. She knew just how many secrets the first stage contained.
As long as she stood upon it, she would remain undefeated in the Temple of the Goddess of Beauty—whether facing direct attack or challenges of desire. She still had one final trump card.