"Sigh."
I let the sound escape deliberately—soft, unhurried, tinged with disappointment rather than alarm.
Velra noticed.
She always did.
"That answer," I said, still in character, "is precisely why this conversation is necessary."
Her red eyes narrowed further.
"And why is that?" she asked coldly. "Because I refuse to accept being cast aside?"
"No," I replied evenly. "Because your first instinct was not grief. Nor negotiation. But erasure."
Velra’s lips curled, exposing her fangs more clearly now.
"In my world," she said, voice low and sharp, "that is negotiation."
I leaned back against the chair, fingers interlaced, posture relaxed—an infuriating contrast to her barely restrained aggression.
"And in mine," I answered, "that is treason."
The word landed with weight.
Alice’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
Velra froze.
For just a fraction of a second, the beast slipped—and the noble resurfaced.
"Treason?" Velra repeated, incredulous. "You would brand me a traitor for protecting what is rightfully mine?"
I tilted my head, gaze cool.
"Rightfully yours?" I echoed. "You mistake proximity for ownership."
Her nails dug into her palm.
"You stood beside me," she said. "You accepted the engagement. You benefited from my bloodline, my power, my reputation."
"And I repaid that debt," I said calmly. "In full."
Her jaw tightened.
"By discarding me."
"By releasing you," I corrected. "Alive. Respected. Compensated."
I paused, then added softly—
"Unpunished."
That did it.
The air shifted.
Velra took a step forward before she caught herself, crimson mana rippling faintly along her arms.
"You speak as though mercy excuses cruelty," she hissed. "Do you have any idea what it means—for a vampire noble—to be rejected?"
I met her gaze without flinching.
"Yes," I said. "It means humiliation."
Her pupils trembled.
"And yet," I continued, voice steady, "you would respond by slaughtering an innocent woman who has no understanding of your customs, no stake in your pride, simply because she occupies a place you desire."
Silence.
Heavy. Pressing.
Then Velra laughed—a sharp, brittle sound.
"So you do admit she exists," she said. "Interesting."
I didn’t deny it.
"That changes nothing," she went on. "She is a variable. Variables are removed."
... Velra is way too much into her role.
It’s time to end this.
"Let’s end the role-play here. I’ve seen enough of Velra-level leadership."
I let the words settle before continuing.
Velra crossed her arms, one perfectly shaped brow lifting in mild irritation.
"...Is that so?" she asked coolly. "And how was it?"
I didn’t hesitate.
"To be blunt? If you acted like that in the Solhaven Empire, you’d lose your head within a week."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Velra’s eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in disbelief.
"That is an exaggeration."
"It really isn’t," I replied calmly. "You ruled like fear was a universal language. It works on demons. It does not work on humans."
Alice, standing a little to the side, folded her arms as well. She hadn’t spoken yet, but her gaze was fixed on Velra with unmistakable interest.
"Humans are absurd creatures," Velra scoffed. "They complain even when they are protected."
"And that’s exactly why you’d fail," I said flatly. "In Solhaven, perception matters as much as power. More, sometimes."
Velra frowned.
I continued, turning slightly so my words reached both of them.
"Who would openly persecute the emperor’s woman? Do that once, and public opinion turns you into a villain overnight. You wouldn’t even need an enemy—your own people would sharpen the knives for you."
Velra clicked her tongue.
"...Then simply crush those who oppose you."
Alice nodded instinctively.
"Exactly. Silence them before it spreads."
I sighed.
"What if the king himself steps forward to protect her?" I asked. "What if the emperor says, she is under my protection?"
Neither of them answered immediately.
"Duels," Alice said after a beat.
"Annihilation," Velra said at the same time.
I rubbed my temples.
"See? This is the problem. Different methods, same conclusion—maximum force, minimal thought."
Velra’s lips thinned.
"And you propose what? Smiling and apologizing while enemies circle you?"
"No," I replied. "I propose not creating enemies in the first place."
That earned me two skeptical stares.
I shrugged.
"I can already imagine how Lady Velra governed her territory."
Velra didn’t deny it.
Then Velra gave a faint, unapologetic smile.
"That is how demon domains survive."
"And that’s why I intended to teach Lady Alice," I said, exhaling slowly, "not to repeat that mistake."
Then I glanced back at Velra.
"But it seems I’ve gained another student along the way."
Velra’s expression stiffened.
"...Hmph. I have no desire to be lectured by you."
"That’s fine," I said lightly. "Education is optional. Consequences are not."
At the same time, I stepped forward, voice steady.
"In Solhaven, influence wins wars before swords are drawn. You don’t kill the noble’s mistress—you make her your ally. Or you make her irrelevant without anyone noticing."
Alice’s brow furrowed.
"...That sounds dishonest."
"It is," I said bluntly. "Politics usually is."
Velra studied me in silence now, no longer dismissive.
"And if they betray you?" she asked.
"Then," I said, meeting her gaze, "you act decisively. Quietly. Cleanly. In a way that makes everyone else think it was inevitable."
Velra clicked her tongue again, but this time there was no mockery in it.
"...Humans truly are troublesome."
"Maybe," I replied. "But they’re predictable. And predictable enemies are manageable."
I turned fully to Alice.
"So," I asked, "what did you think?"
She met my eyes and held them, her expression conflicted, as though several answers were competing in her mind.
After a long pause, she spoke carefully.
"Was there something... wrong with Lady Velra’s approach just now?"
Instead of answering, I tilted my head slightly.
"Then let me ask you the same question I asked Lady Velra. What would you do if the Crown Prince stood in your way?"
Alice’s lips parted—then closed again.
Her fingers tightened at her side.
She didn’t say it out loud.
Because she knew the answer, but saying it out loud meant admitting the flaw.
Velra’s methods were exactly as bad as expected.
So bad, in fact, that calling them merely terrible felt insufficient. She wasn’t thinking like a noble at all—she was thinking like someone completely conditioned by the logic of overwhelming power.
If I can crush it, then I should.
If I couldn’t, then I’d simply grow stronger.
’And that’s precisely what makes her perfect teaching material.’
The old saying about learning from others’ failures wasn’t exaggeration. A negative example left a deeper impression than a flawless model ever could.
"A duel with the Crown Prince," I continued calmly, "would immediately destabilize the imperial faction’s balance."
Alice’s brows knit together.
"It would reflect poorly on every family aligned with him," she murmured. "And on the imperial household as a whole."
"Exactly," I said. "You don’t just fight one man. You fight the structure standing behind him."
Alice nodded slowly.
But I wasn’t finished.
"Now," I said, lowering my voice slightly, "what about the Crown Prince’s woman?"
Alice froze.
Her eyes widened—just a fraction.
"If she were harmed, threatened, or even publicly humiliated," I continued, "who do you think the people would side with?"
Alice swallowed.
"...Her," she said quietly. "Because she would be seen as a victim."
"And the Crown Prince?" I pressed.
"He would be seen as righteous," she replied, more firmly now. "As someone defending what is his."
I smiled faintly.
"Good. Now take that one step further."
Alice’s breath hitched.
"The one who persecutes her," she said, "becomes a villain—regardless of their justification."