CHAPTER 234: THE QUEEN WHO WAITS FOR WAR

’Only Emma, Amelia, and I know where she’s hiding.’

Yet, he stepped forward without hesitation, claiming he could lead the way as if he had known all along.

That kind of certainty didn’t come from intuition—it came from something more.

He must be using a tracking artifact.

And there was only one person capable of creating such a thing.

’Ravarn.’

Which meant one thing.

’Freedman is a parasite.’

A servant of the Demon King himself.

An enemy of the North.

At that exact moment, a faint shimmer of light flickered before my eyes—my status window.

[Objective Complete: The suspicious man’s true identity has been uncovered.]

[New Mission Activated.]

[Subject Identified: Freedman, once a proud warrior of the Northern resistance.]

[Current Status: His human emotions consumed, his body overtaken by a demon parasite.]

[Mission Directive: Operating under Ravarn’s command, Freedman’s goal is the assassination of Velra.]

[Primary Task: Prevent Freedman from completing his mission and secure peace in the North.]

[Reward: Classified.]

[Failure Condition: The death of Velra.]

’...Velra’s death.’

The words echoed like a tolling bell in my head.

She was nearly back to her full strength—ready to return to the demon realm.

Logically, her death wouldn’t change much. I’d already extracted nearly everything of value from her.

If she disappeared now, it would be... efficient.

But then I remembered her voice—soft, yet resolute—in that cold, damp cave.

"When I regain my strength, come back with me."

Even though our first meeting had been a disaster, and our bond was built on half-truths and manipulation... somewhere along the way, something real had slipped through the cracks.

’...How could I just watch her die?’

Master and disciple.

Demon and demon’s ally.

We were tangled together now—whether by fate, obligation, or something deeper I didn’t care to name.

"Julies. "Prepare my gear. We’re heading out."

"Yes, my lady."

I bowed without question.

I took one last breath, letting the northern wind cool the fire burning in my chest.

’Let’s save her.’

The decision was already made.

Velra’s life was the priority.

And if Alice Draken dared to stand in my way—then she, too, would have to be dealt with.

"Then, I will lead the way. Knights, follow me."

The room emptied slowly after Alice gave the order. Armor clanked, boots echoed, and the Duke’s presence lingered in the air like the weight of a storm. When the last of the knights filed out, I stood there, hand over my chest, my head bowed.

My pulse was steady. Too steady.

Because underneath that calm exterior—beneath the obedience drilled into me by years of discipline—something darker stirred.

Freedman.

Just hearing his name again was enough to drag old ghosts from the grave.

The man who sold out his own comrades for a pouch of gold and a whisper of power. The man I’d buried with my own hands—or thought I had.

And now he stood there, smiling, wearing loyalty like a mask.

The Duke’s words still echoed in my mind. "A true warrior of the North. You’ve done well, Freedman."

I wanted to laugh.

Or maybe scream.

Instead, I clenched my fist until the leather of my gloves creaked.

He’d fooled them all. The Duke. The council. Even Alice.

But not me.

I could smell the rot beneath that polished smile.

"Julies," Alice’s voice snapped me back. She stood by the war table, her fingers brushing over the map spread across it.

The flickering candlelight danced across her silver armor, making her look every bit the image of a northern commander—proud, unyielding, and utterly unaware of the serpent she’d just let slither into her ranks.

"Yes, my lady," I answered, stepping closer.

Her eyes flicked toward me, sharp but tired. "Ready the horses. And have the strike unit prepared to leave before dawn. Freedman will lead the vanguard."

The name made my jaw tighten, but I kept my voice even. "...As you command."

She nodded once, satisfied, and turned back to the map. But she didn’t see the way my hand lingered near my dagger.

Not yet.

As I left the chamber, the corridors of the fortress stretched before me, dimly lit by blue mana lamps. The northern wind howled faintly outside the stone walls, a familiar, biting sound.

And with every step, my resolve hardened.

Velra’s life hung by a thread.

And I was the only one who knew the blade hovering above it.

’He’s a parasite. A pawn of Ravarn.’

The mission window’s cold words replayed in my mind, glowing faintly at the edge of my vision.

[Primary Task: Prevent Freedman from completing his mission.]

[Failure Condition: The death of Velra.]

I stopped at the armory, letting my fingers trail across the racks of weapons—each one polished, perfectly balanced, humming with faint traces of mana.

But I didn’t reach for my sword. Not yet.

Instead, I stared at my reflection in the steel of a blade.

This wasn’t just about orders anymore.

Alice believed this was a mission of vengeance—a chance to strike back against the demons that threatened the North.

But I knew the truth.

This was a setup.

And if I didn’t intervene, she’d be walking her entire unit into the jaws of Ravarn’s trap.

"Velra..." I whispered her name under my breath, tasting the weight it carried.

The demon who should’ve been my enemy.

The one who’d offered me something that felt disturbingly close to trust.

And maybe that was enough.

Enough to make me betray the Duke’s orders. Enough to defy Alice. Enough to risk everything I had left.

I strapped my dagger to my thigh and secured the leather belts across my chest. My movements were automatic—trained, practiced—but my mind was already elsewhere.

On her.

On the cave where we’d first met.

On the strange, uneasy warmth in her eyes when she’d said, "When I regain my strength, come back with me."

I fastened the last buckle and exhaled slowly.

’If I’m going to stop Freedman, I’ll have to move before the vanguard does.’

There wouldn’t be time for diplomacy.

No hesitation.

No mercy.

I pulled my cloak around my shoulders and stepped into the night, the cold air biting against my skin. The moon hung low, a pale, watchful eye above the northern peaks.

Between them stood me—Julies, the liar.

And in the next moment I took out crystal communication and decided to warn Velra about this.

I hope she listens to me this time.

----

[Evacuate immediately. The forces of Lady Alice and the Draken Duchy are heading your way.]

"Hm?"

Velra glanced lazily at the glowing message flickering inside the crystal orb hovering beside her. Her long fingers brushed against its surface, and a soft chuckle slipped past her lips.

"Oh... the descendant of that warrior, is it?"

She leaned back against the velvet couch, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. The corners of her mouth curved into a knowing smile as a low, throaty laugh escaped her.

"You’re still as protective of your little treasure as ever."

Her voice was smooth—almost affectionate—but her words dripped with mockery.

Of course, she had completely misunderstood the warning.

To Velra, the idea that she should run was absurd. The notion of being cornered or defeated by mere humans was laughable.

Why would she flee from insects?

"My strength has returned enough," she murmured, stretching her slender arms. "Crushing a few knights and their fledgling commander shouldn’t be difficult."

Her expression softened into something between nostalgia and disdain.

"Knights... tch. Always hiding behind layers of armor, trembling behind their so-called courage."

She scoffed quietly, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "Even one proper strike—one punch—would reduce them to dust."

And the soldiers that followed them?

Not even worth mentioning.

"The only one among them with a flicker of potential," she said, her gaze turning distant, "is that girl."

Alice Draken.

The name rolled off her tongue with a hint of admiration—and something else she refused to name.

"She has good eyes," Velra admitted, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "The kind that belong to someone who’s seen death... and refused to bow to it."

But admiration or not, Velra was still Velra.

A noble of the night. A queen of her own dominion.

And to her, Alice Draken was nothing more than a promising sapling in a storm she couldn’t yet weather.

"Still unripe," Velra murmured. "And if you harvest something before it’s ready..."

Her crimson eyes glinted.

"It spoils easily."

In short, she had already decided the outcome.

Victory was inevitable.

The orb flickered again, more frantically this time, the voice within growing desperate.

—You really should abandon that hideout and flee! They’re not ordinary soldiers—!

Velra sighed, propping her chin on her hand. "You too? How adorable."

Her tone dripped with condescension. "Worried that I might harm your precious humans? Relax. I’ll only... play with them."

Her power pulsed faintly, the air around her thickening as shadows rippled through the room.

Then—

Crack!

A sharp sound rang out. The orb splintered under the pressure, spiderwebs of light spreading across its surface before it exploded into glittering fragments.

Shards of magic stone scattered across the floor, glowing faintly before fading away.

Velra tilted her head, watching the remnants fall.

"It seems it couldn’t handle my energy," she said softly. "What a shame. I rather liked that voice."

She stood, her dark dress whispering across the stone floor, and stepped over the fragments with casual grace.

"I suppose next time," she murmured, "you should send me something of better quality."

Her voice dropped, the faintest trace of irritation slipping through her calm demeanor.

"It seems you still care more about that girl..."

Her smile turned cold.

"...than your kingly duties."

As she spoke, her pupils dilated, and a deep crimson glow spread through her irises—like roses blooming in blood.

The ancient power of her lineage stirred.

And in that moment, Velra—the vampire noble who had once ruled battlefields soaked in moonlight—was no longer just resting.

She was waiting.

For war.