CHAPTER 53: AT DAWN

Although I ended up here because vice presidents were required to attend, this kind of thing was usually only for class presidents.

Which meant, after today, Elena would be sitting here alone while I enjoyed my peaceful afternoons elsewhere.

"The meeting will begin in five minutes!"

A loud voice echoed through the hall. The noise and chatter that had filled the room moments earlier faded away as everyone started to take their seats.

I glanced around. The atmosphere was heavier than I expected—more formal, more polished.

Soon after, a group of students entered through the large doors at the front. Their movements were smooth, confident—like people used to being in the spotlight.

Jewels glimmered on their uniforms, the light from chandeliers catching on their badges, brooches, and enchanted accessories. They looked like they’d stepped straight out of a portrait meant to show off the empire’s elite.

And among them—one person stood out above all the rest.

A girl with long, flowing purple hair that seemed to shimmer under the light. She walked with quiet confidence, her every step commanding attention without even trying.

Anna Blackwood.

The First Imperial Princess of the Empire.

And one of the main heroines of the manga.

Even though I knew who she was, seeing her in person was different. She wasn’t just beautiful—there was something sharp and magnetic about her presence, the kind of aura that made you sit up straighter without realizing it.

She took her seat at the front, crossing her legs with practiced grace. The room fell completely silent.

Then, with a calm and dignified tone, she said,

"Well then... shall we begin the meeting?"

And just like that, the student council meeting officially began.

----

The room was practically pitch black—only the faint smudge of a single covered lantern somewhere in the corner betrayed that there was light at all. Voices moved in hushed waves, a dozen people clustered around a long table, their faces half-hidden by shadows. Every sound felt too loud: the rustle of cloth, the creak of a chair, the soft click of boxed lids being opened.

A woman in an Academy uniform leaned forward, her voice low and sharp. "So how exactly are we planning to kidnap the princess?"

A few heads nodded. Anxiety and impatience hummed through the group. "The Academy’s security is far stronger than we expected," someone muttered. "We had to dodge patrols just to get in tonight."

"Guards change hourly," another added. "And there are knights posted near the eastern gate now. How are we supposed to break through that?"

All eyes turned toward a single figure at the far end of the table. He wore a neat suit and a fedora pulled low; the brim threw his face into shadow. He didn’t bother answering their questions right away. Instead he inclined his head, as if acknowledging every worry without needing to speak.

He pointed to a young boy standing beside him. "You called for me," the man said.

The boy—Frun—moved with puppeted calm. He slipped small square boxes from a satchel and passed them around. The packaging was plain, nothing writ on the lids, but each hand that took one did so with a weight that went far beyond cardboard.

"What is this?" a voice asked, brittle with curiosity.

"Open it and see," the suited man said.

Boxes cracked open almost in unison. The little flaps ripped and went aside; whatever lay inside made the room go quiet in a way that wasn’t about surprise—it was concern.

The woman in the Academy uniform stared, her breath hitching. "This isn’t... you can’t be serious."

Another member swallowed audibly. "If that’s what I think it is—"

"Then you’re right," the suited man said flatly. "It’s exactly that."

A tremor of disbelief swept the circle. "Have you finally lost your mind?" someone snapped. "This isn’t a weapon to be used casually—this is terrorism. If we’re not careful, the Empire will trace this back to us."

"I know what it is," the woman said, voice steadying as she tried to measure the consequences. She lifted her eyes and looked at the man. "And you’re... sure this is Him’s plan?"

The fedoraed man folded his hands on the table and met her gaze, the faint lantern glow catching the edge of his jaw. "I can connect you to Him if you want proof," he offered, the confidence in his voice closing down the room like a lid. "But I don’t think we need a demonstration."

"No," someone else said slowly. "If He’s sure, then so be it. But we need to be precise—no mistakes."

A silence followed—heavy, insistent—until the woman’s face changed from shock to a reluctant resolve. She set her box down very carefully and rolled up her sleeves. The rest of the group watched her, then did the same, one by one. Whatever fear had fluttered at the edges had hardened into purpose.

The suited man pushed back his fedora and revealed the tattoo on his wrist: a red wolf mid-howl, inked in bold strokes that seemed to drink the dim light. One by one, others showed the same mark beneath their cuffs—faint red scars and fresh ink both. The symbol tied them together the way words could not.

"We’re not small-time thieves," the woman said, voice low but steady now. "We’re not just making noise in the dark. With this, we force the Empire’s hand."

"We kidnap the princess," the man continued. "We deliver our demands. We broadcast them. We create an undeniable, public turning point." He tapped the table for emphasis. "This isn’t just theft. It’s declaration."

A murmur ran through the room—the kind that’s part fear, part exhilaration. Somebody laughed a little too loudly; someone else’s shoulders trembled as if from cold or adrenaline.

"If the Empire traces it back—" a voice began.

"It will," the suited man interrupted, blunt. "But that will also prove our existence. People are tired. They want change. If this works, this ignites everything: sympathizers will rally, our hidden cells will come out of the woodwork, and we make the Empire answer to the people."

He spread his hands. "This is what He wants. This is what we were forged for."

The tattooed wrists glinted as the group raised their arms in unison, a small, almost ceremonial motion. The woman swallowed, then tightened her jaw and nodded. "We’re going to change this damn world," she said.

Outside, the night waited like a held breath. Inside, in the thin lantern light, a dozen ordinary people became conspirators—bound by a belief fierce enough to drown out the safer voices in their heads. They tucked the boxes back into satchels, checked their blades, and rehearsed silent plans with the grim focus of those who’ve walked past the point of no return.

Frun lingered a moment longer, his young face unreadable as he watched the group prepare. Then, with the same careful calm he’d worn the whole meeting, he stepped forward and caught the eye of the suited man.

"All set," he said.

The man inclined his head. "At dawn."

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Author Note:

Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.

It’s my first novel, I hope you have loved it. Once again thanks.