CHAPTER 282: CHAPTER 281 - FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

The silence between them was thick enough to choke on.

Lorian Velmoria rose slightly from his bed, his tired eyes sharpening, the weariness replaced by a well-practiced softness.

"Selena... my dear daughter," he began, voice warm, almost trembling, "I... I thought you were lost to me. All these weeks—where have you been? How have you been? Are you eating well? Have you been safe?"

His tone was almost believable—too believable.

It might have fooled anyone else.

Selena stood still, letting him talk. She didn’t give him a single answer.

On the outside, she was calm. On the inside, every word scraped her nerves raw.

She tried to remember a time when his voice had carried warmth for her.

Anything—a bedtime story, a proud smile, a father’s embrace.

Nothing came. The only memories she had were filled with indifference, orders, and cold gazes.

Not once in her life had she experienced the love of a father.

Whenever she saw Argon—who made silly dad jokes, trying to ease the atmosphere, which he miraculously always succeeded in doing—she wondered if her father might also be like that on the inside.

After all, Argon was once cold.

But whenever she thought of that, she would recall the incident when she was sent to the demons’ base.

It always shattered her hopes.

So, as she saw him speaking in a worried tone, which was, without a doubt, fake, she felt her stomach churn with disgust.

Siris could see Selena’s fists clenched as she stood behind the princess, but she didn’t speak.

She knew that this was Selena’s fight, so she would let her do whatever she wanted to.

Lorian, on the other hand, went on, weaving his false concern like a tapestry of lies. "...and you must tell me if you’ve been hurt. I’ll have the healer summoned right now—"

It was then that Selena’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

"I know it was you."

Lorian blinked, his act faltering for a fraction of a second. "What—?"

"I know you poisoned me," she said, her tone level, almost casual—but her eyes were shards of ice. "I also know that it was you who sent me to the base of the demons, trying to trade me for some powers."

"Selena—! I would nev—"

"And," she spoke over him, unyielding, "I know you’re a demon worshiper."

The room went still.

Lorian’s face froze in place... for a second, he stood there, as if he couldn’t believe what she was accusing him of.

He thought that she was trying to test how he would react to those words, but as the stare-down went on, and as he saw Selena’s expression, he realized it.

She wasn’t testing him.

She was sure of it.

So, she must have some proof.

She wouldn’t have come here so confidently if she didn’t have something.

But was Lorian scared?

His frozen expression cracked.

A long, slow sigh slipped from him, the facade melting into something sharp, venomous.

"So that’s it," he murmured, voice now stripped of pretense. "That’s why you’ve been hiding all month. Trying to find a way to overthrow me."

He leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face like oil on water. "It won’t work. No one will believe you over me. Not when I’ve spent years building my image. I am the savior of this kingdom in their eyes."

His grin widened, his teeth bared. "I made you and your little friends heroes. I can turn you into villains just as easily. When I do that, there is nothing you can do to stop me."

As he finished his words, silence shrouded the room again.

That was until Selena tilted her head, as her voice came out as a whisper of mockery.

"When," she asked, "did I say I was here to overthrow you?"

He frowned.

"I’m here," she said, "to kill you."

For the second time, Lorian’s expression locked in place.

Then he laughed—a deep, rumbling laugh that rolled into madness. Purple flame erupted around him, curling along the walls, casting monstrous shadows.

His mana, which would’ve been six circle level, had now increased to eight circles.

It was clear that he had gained more power from the demons.

"You?" He spat between laughs. "You’re far too young to lay a finger on me."

Then, he glanced at Siris as if realizing something. "Is it the numbers that give you courage? Do you think that just because you have that girl with you, you will win?"

He clapped his hands once.

From the shadows beside his bed, a figure stepped forward.

It was the black-dressed man who had once faced Argon without flinching.

He was the one who was the first to jump between Argon and the king when Argon had almost raised his sword against the king.

Selena’s eyes narrowed. She remembered that presence—cold, predatory, a blade hidden in the dark—because that day, she was there.

Even Siris remembered the man.

But did they flinch?

No, they didn’t.

Because they knew that no matter how strong that man was, he was a Vaise.

Yes, he was a Vaise.

In this fight, all he could do was fight Siris. Against Selena, he couldn’t even raise his sword, as she carried the royal blood.

However, both Selena and Siris knew that the man who now stood silently before Siris was never summoned to fight Selena.

He was here to keep Siris in check.

Selena, on the other hand, was someone the king wanted to take care of.

"Come, let me show you why you should never underestimate others or overestimate yourself."

..............................

Meanwhile—The Royal Prince’s Room.

Velric Velmoria bolted upright in bed.

His heart thumped against his ribs, each beat louder than the silence pressing in from all sides. He didn’t know why—only that something felt... wrong.

Like the air was heavier. Watching him.

He sat there for a moment, eyes still adjusting to the dark room.

The velvet curtains swayed faintly in the moonlight. The grand desk near the window looked almost skeletal, its carved legs twisted into grotesque shapes in the shadows.

His mouth was dry. Too dry.

"...Water," he muttered, patting the nightstand beside his bed. His hand found nothing. "Where’s the damn glass?"

A voice, smooth and unhurried, answered from the darkness.

"Here."

A hand—pale in the moonlight—extended a glass of water to him from the left side of the bed.

Without thinking, Velric took it.

"Thanks," he muttered, sipping the cool liquid, feeling it soothe his throat. "Needed that."

He drank halfway before his mind finally caught up to the situation.

Wait.

He lived alone in this room, and he slept alone every night. He had even told the maids and butlers not to enter until he called for them.

’So... who?’

Slowly, he turned his head toward where the hand had come from.

Two silhouettes stood beside his bed. Silent. Unmoving.

Velric’s eyes widened.

"N-Nope. Nope nope nope—" He leapt out of bed, tangled briefly in the bedsheets, then scrambled to the far corner of the room, pressing his back against the wall.

"Stay back! I—I know exorcism!" He yelled, frantically making random signs with his hands. "Begone, foul spirits of... of... uh—THE SEVENTH LAMP!"

The shadows didn’t stop approaching. They moved without sound, their heads tilting at unnatural angles, closer... closer...

Velric whimpered, dropping into a crouch. "Ancient spirits, banish thys—whatever—you get the point!"

The figures kept coming until the cold of their presence seemed to seep into his bones.

His breath hitched. His legs shook.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his voice breaking.

"GO AWAY!" He yelled.

Then—

Silence.

Slowly—painfully—he opened his eyes. To his relief, the room was empty.

The moonlight fell across polished stone and rumpled sheets.

He sagged in relief, shoulders loosening. "...Just my imagination."

A tap came on his shoulder.

"Are they gone?" A voice whispered, right behind his ear.

Velric swallowed hard. "Y-Yeah... seems like—"

He froze.

His head turned inch by inch, muscles locking.

"Boo."

Velric couldn’t even scream as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Raven stood over him, unbothered, while Clara smirked beside him.

"You didn’t have to scare him so much," Raven muttered, watching the prince’s limp form. "You could’ve done it without all that if you were going to knock him out with sound magic anyway."

Clara shrugged, arms folding. "That’s his punishment for interrupting my kissing session."

Raven gave her a look. "...Wasn’t it our fault for doing it in his room in the first place?"

"One doesn’t see where they are when they want romance," she replied without shame. "We were having a moment—that was until Mr. Royal Light Sleeper had to ruin the mood."

Raven sighed, glancing at Velric on the floor. "I guess we completed our objective then."

"Yep," Clara said, already tugging Raven toward the balcony. "Even if he’s when he wakes up, he’ll think it was a nightmare. We won’t be suspected."

"Pretty realistic nightmare," Raven muttered, stepping into the shadows with her.

He once again glanced at Velric, wondering if this was how pathetic he would’ve looked before he was cursed by the gods in his past life.

Soon, however, he shook his head. ’Nah. No way. I must’ve looked somewhat heroic. After all, I wasn’t scared of humans but a divine artifact. That’s an accomplishment.’

It was then that the tattoo on his arm pulsed, and Omni’s voice echoed in his head.

"Man, you sure you not taking doses of copium?" The sword asked before adding, "You looked worse than this shit there. At least he tried to exorcise. You couldn’t even do that."

Raven ignored the sword, still believing that he was better than Velric.

Behind them, the prince groaned faintly in his sleep, mumbling about haunted castles and the "curse of the seventh lamp."