The Imperial Academy.The Royal Annex - Princess Veronica's Secret Antechamber.Mid-Afternoon.
Rudeus Maximilian Blackfyre was currently sitting in a room that ninety-nine percent of the Imperial Academy's student body didn't even know existed.
It was a hidden antechamber located deep within the fortified heart of the Royal Suite in the East Wing. The walls were paneled in rich, dark mahogany and draped with thick, sound-dampening velvet tapestries of oceanic blue and silver—the royal colors of the Rosania Empire. The air was heavy with the scent of expensive, imported bergamot incense and the faint, ozone-like hum of high-tier privacy wards woven directly into the masonry. It was a room designed for state secrets, secure negotiations, and absolute isolation.
Rudeus sat somewhat awkwardly on a plush, silver-trimmed armchair, balancing a delicate, ridiculously expensive porcelain teacup on his knee. He looked completely out of place. His midnight-blue uniform was slightly rumpled from his earlier physical altercations, and his vibrant green hair clashed violently with the meticulously curated, cold aesthetics of the royal parlor.
Sitting across from him, separated by a low table carved from a single slab of white marble, was Amanda Filderblue.
The Head Maid of the East Wing looked the picture of aristocratic servitude. Her black and white uniform was utterly immaculate, completely devoid of a single crease or stain. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe, flawlessly neat bun. She sat with perfect posture, her hands folded primly in her lap, radiating an aura of calm, unbothered domesticity.
But Rudeus knew better. He knew he was sitting across from a coiled viper.
Amanda reached forward with practiced, fluid grace, picking up a silver teapot. She poured a stream of steaming, fragrant Darjeeling tea into her own cup, the liquid making a soft, rhythmic splashing sound in the quiet room.
"So," Amanda began, her voice smooth, cultured, and perfectly polite. She set the teapot down and looked at Rudeus with dark, slate-grey eyes that revealed absolutely nothing of her inner thoughts. "Can you kindly explain to me what exact sort of juvenile shenanigans both you and Her Highness were engaged in out in the botanical gardens, Young Master?"
Rudeus let out a long, heavy sigh. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to drink tea. He wanted to be mapping out escape routes to the Northern Continent. But if he wanted unrestricted access to the training facilities, he had to play the political game.
He took a sip of his tea, finding it frustratingly delicious, before setting the cup down on the marble table.
He began to explain. He didn't embellish. He didn't whine or frame himself as the victim, as the original Rudeus undoubtedly would have done. Speaking with the cold, detached precision of a Vanguard Captain giving an after-action report to his commanding officer, Damien recounted everything.
He detailed his frantic sprint through the halls. He explained the accidental, albeit forceful, physical collision with the Princess. He explicitly recounted his complete lack of an apology and his use of aggressive profanity. He then meticulously detailed the encounter in the garden: how she had cornered him, how she had attempted to physically assault him, how he had effortlessly dodged her wildly telegraphed strikes, how he had held her back by the forehead, and finally, how she had resorted to literally biting his hand before breaking down into a hysterical, screaming tantrum.
As Rudeus spoke, he watched Amanda's face closely for micro-expressions. He expected her to be furious. He expected the legendary Deathstalker to reach across the table, grab him by the throat, and demand his immediate execution for high treason against the crown. He had, after all, openly admitted to insulting, physically restraining, and striking the Emperor's favorite daughter.
Instead, Amanda's reaction was entirely outside of his tactical calculations.
Her face transitioned from a mask of genuine, polite shock, to a look of profound, weary understanding. She let out a soft sigh, looking down at her teacup. And then, the corners of her mouth twitched.
A small chuckle escaped her lips.
The chuckle quickly grew, bubbling up from her chest until the Head Maid was genuinely, openly laughing. It wasn't a cruel laugh, but a rich, highly amused sound that echoed brightly in the heavy atmosphere of the hidden antechamber.
Rudeus furrowed his brow, deeply confused. He raised an aristocratic eyebrow at her bizarre reaction.
"I honestly thought you would immediately scold me, or at the very least, threaten me with a court-martial," Rudeus stated flatly, crossing his arms. "I literally insulted a royal of the highest bloodline. And worse, the Emperor's undisputed favorite daughter. Isn't your primary directive to protect her honor?"
Amanda took a delicate sip of her tea, her eyes dancing with amusement as she set the cup back down on its saucer.
"Oh, no, Young Master. I am not really mad at what you did," Amanda replied, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a pristine white napkin. "I know exactly how Princess Veronica treats you. I observe everything in this Academy. I know the quiet, cruel things she says, and the cold, dismissive glares she gives you in the dining halls. Given the context of your prolonged arrangement, you really have the absolute right to finally fight back and defend your own dignity."
Amanda let out another soft laugh, clearly entertained by the mental image of the untouchable Princess hopelessly windmilling her arms while being held back by her forehead.
"AMY?!"
A shrill, furious shriek shattered the momentary calm of the room.
Sitting on a plush, oversized velvet sofa in the far corner of the antechamber, clutching a silk throw pillow to her chest, was Princess Veronica. She had been sitting there in sullen, brooding silence the entire time, listening to Rudeus's shockingly blunt recounting of her humiliating defeat.
Veronica violently stomped her booted foot against the carpet, her oceanic blue eyes blazing with a mixture of betrayal and righteous anger.
"Why are you saying that?!" Veronica shrieked, pointing an accusing, trembling finger at her Head Maid. "Why are you taking his side?! He literally called me a bitch in front of half the nobility! And then he pushed me into the dirt! He should be punished for high treason! He should be expelled and thrown into the imperial dungeons!"
Veronica shifted her furious glare toward Rudeus, her chest heaving with indignation.
Rudeus didn't even flinch. He simply rolled his eyes, a profound, agonizingly slow rotation that conveyed his absolute, bottomless disdain for her theatrical antics. He couldn't give a single, solitary fuck about her royal outrage. To a man who had watched the sky crack open and rain demonic fire, a screaming teenage aristocrat was less threatening than a mosquito.
Amanda didn't immediately pacify the Princess. She slowly turned her head, fixing Veronica with a stern, maternal, but distinctly unyielding look.
"Well," Amanda began, her voice returning to its smooth, authoritative cadence. She took another measured sip of her tea before continuing. "If we are being entirely objective, Your Highness, it is quite literally your fault to begin with."
Veronica gasped, clutching the pillow tighter, utterly scandalized that her own guardian was reprimanding her.
"You know precisely who he is, Veronica," Amanda continued, dropping the formal titles in the privacy of the warded room, speaking to her as an elder to a ward. "He is a Blackfyre. You know the rumors. You know the truth of his existence within that household. He has been systematically abused, isolated, and relentlessly mocked by his own flesh and blood. He was entirely rejected by his father from the moment he drew his first breath."
Amanda's slate-grey eyes softened slightly, carrying a heavy weight of shared sorrow.
"A fate, I might remind you, that is not entirely dissimilar to the isolation and rejection you and your late mother experienced at the hands of the Imperial Court."
Veronica froze. The anger instantly drained from her face, replaced by a sudden, incredibly vulnerable pallor. She looked away, her oceanic eyes dropping to the floor, unable to meet Amanda's gaze. The comparison hit her directly in the heart, bypassing all of her aristocratic shields.
"And because of that shared pain," Amanda continued softly, looking back at Rudeus, who was keeping his expression completely neutral. "I cannot bring myself to blame him for finally snapping. He has already endured enough harsh treatment from the world to last a lifetime. He did not need you adding to his burdens, Your Highness. You pushed a cornered animal, and you are shocked that it finally bared its teeth."
The room fell silent. The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner seemed deafening.
Then, Amanda sighed, the strict Head Maid persona sliding back into place.
"Though... despite the justification of your emotional outburst, you really should formally apologize to Her Highness, Young Master Rudeus," Amanda instructed, looking at him over the rim of her teacup. "We live in a political reality. You cannot openly insult the crown without consequences, regardless of how cathartic it may have felt."
Rudeus frowned, his jaw tightening.
"Do I really need to?" Rudeus asked, his tone flat and resistant.
Amanda simply nodded once, her expression brooking absolutely no argument. It wasn't a request; it was a tactical directive.
Rudeus sighed heavily. He dragged a hand through his green hair, incredibly frustrated. He genuinely didn't want to apologize to this spoiled brat. He knew, with absolute certainty, that she wouldn't accept it graciously. She would view it as a capitulation. But, the veteran soldier within him recognized the necessity of a tactical retreat. He needed Amanda on his side, and he couldn't negotiate if he refused to play by the basic rules of her house.
Having no other viable choice to advance his objective, Rudeus stood up from his armchair. He turned to face the sofa where Veronica was sitting.
He executed a stiff, shallow, and entirely perfunctory bow.
"I am sorry, Your Highness, for everything that transpired today," Rudeus stated. His voice was completely monotone, utterly devoid of any genuine remorse, inflection, or warmth. It sounded like a hostage reading a prepared statement.
Veronica, eager to reclaim any shred of her shattered pride, immediately seized upon the apology, completely ignoring its blatant insincerity.
She lifted her chin haughtily, her oceanic eyes flashing with renewed arrogance. She looked down her nose at him.
"Hmph!" Veronica scoffed loudly, turning her face away in a dramatic display of aristocratic disdain. She rose from the sofa, smoothing her ruined skirts with an air of absolute, unearned triumph.
'This insufferable brat!' Rudeus thought inwardly, his eye twitching as he fought the overwhelming urge to deliver another knuckle sandwich to her silver-blue head.
Without another word, Veronica marched across the antechamber. She threw the heavy oak doors open and walked out into the main living room of her royal suite, slamming the doors shut behind her with a resounding, echoing bang.
Rudeus and Amanda were finally left completely alone in the warded room.
The moment the heavy doors clicked shut, the entire atmosphere of the antechamber shifted violently.
The comfortable, maternal warmth that Amanda had projected while dealing with the Princess vanished instantly, evaporating like water on a hot stove. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet.
"So," Amanda spoke.
Her voice had changed. It was no longer the smooth, polite chime of the Head Maid. It was cold, flat, and chillingly devoid of emotion. It was the voice of a professional killer assessing a target.
"Why exactly were you actively searching for me in the subterranean servant quarters, Young Master?" Amanda asked.
She didn't reach for her tea. She sat perfectly still, her slate-grey eyes locked onto Rudeus, tracking his breathing, his posture, his pulse.
Rudeus slowly sat back down in his armchair. He carefully picked up his teacup, placed it back onto the marble table, and let out a long, measured exhale. He was stepping into the lion's den, and he needed to project absolute confidence.
"I need your help," Rudeus stated plainly, meeting her predatory gaze without flinching.
"What kind of help?" Amanda asked, raising a single, sharp eyebrow. Her tone implied that a 'Defect' like him couldn't possibly have a problem worthy of her attention.
"I need your explicit permission, and your logistical assistance, to allow me to access the Academy's subterranean martial gymnasium late at night," Rudeus laid out his demands clearly. "I need you to provide me with the master bypass keys for the lower levels. And, more importantly, I need you to actively protect me from the student prefects and the disciplinary faculty. I need you to ensure they look the other way regarding my blatant violations of the midnight curfew."
Amanda stared at him for a long moment. Then, a small, dismissive smirk touched her lips.
"And why would I possibly risk my cover or exert my influence to grant a first-year student illegal access to restricted training facilities?" Amanda asked coldly. "What possible incentive do I have to help you, Rudeus Blackfyre?"
Rudeus leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. He dropped his voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper.
"Because..." Rudeus began, pausing for dramatic effect, ensuring he had her absolute, undivided attention.
"I currently possess the exact, highly classified intelligence that you, and your entire shadow organization, have been desperately bleeding in the dark to find for the last three years."
Amanda's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. The air grew thicker.
"I mean to say," Rudeus continued, his crimson eyes locking onto hers, "this intelligence is the direct payment I am offering. I will give you the target you have been hunting, as long as you take my deal and grant me the access I require."
He leaned back, delivering the final, devastating blow.
"...Deathstalker."
-SWISH!
The reaction was not humanly fast; it was supernaturally instantaneous.
Before the final syllable of her codename had even fully left Rudeus's lips, Amanda moved. Her hand was a blur of motion, drawing a weapon from the concealed folds of her pristine apron and launching it with terrifying, lethal precision.
Rudeus's veteran combat instincts—the instincts of a man who had dodged SSS-Rank orbital strikes—screamed in his brain.
He didn't try to catch it. He didn't try to block. He violently threw his upper body to the left, diving entirely out of his armchair.
A throwing knife—a sleek, blackened blade coated in a paralyzing neurotoxin—sliced through the empty air exactly where his throat had been a millisecond prior. The blade buried itself three inches deep into the heavy velvet tapestry behind him with a dull, heavy thwack.
Rudeus hit the carpet hard, rolling to his feet, adrenaline flooding his weak, teenage nervous system.
"How the hell do you know that name, Young Master?!"
Amanda's voice was no longer a cold whisper; it was a venomous hiss. She had already drawn a second, longer combat blade from her thigh sheath. She was standing up from the marble table, her posture shifted into a low, lethal crouch. The killing intent radiating from her was absolutely suffocating.
"It doesn't matter how I found out about your true identity, or the existence of your covert organization!" Rudeus shouted, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, frantically backing away toward the center of the room. "What matters is the intelligence I have! Will you take my offer or not?!"
He offered his open hands, showing he was unarmed.
Amanda lunged.
She didn't hesitate. She closed the distance between them in a single, silent stride, slashing the blackened blade in a vicious horizontal arc aimed directly at his extended wrists.
Rudeus violently retracted his hands, stumbling backward, the tip of the blade missing his skin by a fraction of an inch.
"Hey! Are you insane?!" Rudeus shouted, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was genuinely terrified. In his past life, he could have disarmed her in three moves. In this malnourished body, he was dancing on the edge of a razor. "Even though I am universally considered a bastard and a defect, you have absolutely no right to do that, y'know! If you murder the son of a Grand Duke in the Princess's antechamber, you will inevitably land in an Imperial prison, cover or no cover!"
Amanda didn't stop her advance. Her face was a mask of pure, murderous focus.
"Really?" Amanda sneered, flipping the dagger in her hand to a reverse grip. "Because I could easily report to the Imperial Court, and to your indifferent father, that I killed you with my own hands solely because of your blatant treason and physical insolence toward Her Highness. I could say you attacked her, and I defended her. Who do you think they will believe? The disgraced Defect, or the sworn protector of the Crown?"
She tightened her grip on the blade, the metal humming faintly with dark mana.
"You have become a liability, Young Master."
Amanda rushed toward him again, moving faster than his unconditioned eyes could easily track.
"He-hey! Can't you just stop and hear me out for one goddamn second?!" Rudeus yelled, desperately twisting his torso, barely evading a lethal thrust aimed at his sternum.
He backpedaled furiously, knocking over a small side table, trying to put obstacles between them.
"Hey, listen to me! I am not your enemy!" Rudeus shouted as he ducked under a sweeping high kick that would have taken his head off. "I know who it is! I know exactly who the high-ranking demon hiding inside this academy is!"
'Goddamnit!' Rudeus cursed inwardly as he scrambled backward, barely keeping out of the reach of her flashing blade. 'I knew it! I knew this was a massive gamble! I should have just chosen Plan B and snuck out of the dorms on my own! Now look at the suicidal situation I'm in right now!'
He was panting heavily, his weak body already failing him. He was barely evading Amanda's baseline physical attacks. Even though Amanda wasn't using her advanced assassination aura, nor was she utilizing any active mana-enhancement skills to boost her speed, she could still easily butcher Rudeus without breaking a sweat if she actually managed to corner him.
"He-hey! Just listen to me! Alright, please, just listen to me!" Rudeus yelled, spreading his arms wide open in an ultimate gesture of surrender, stopping his retreat and standing completely still in the middle of the room.
"Lo-look, you can thoroughly verify the intelligence yourself if you like! I'm not here to give you false intel or waste your time. I know someone from a rival faction fed you bad information before, leading to that disaster in the lower wards last year, but my information!"
He gasped for air, his chest heaving.
"Mine is absolutely real, Amanda! I swear it on my life!"
He braced himself, closing his eyes, fully expecting the blade to pierce his heart.
But the attack didn't come from the front.
Amanda simply disappeared.
She didn't move fast; she used a high-tier Night Raven technique—[Shadow Step].
Rudeus instantly felt an incredibly ominous, freezing wind displace the air directly behind his neck.
His eyes snapped open. He started to turn his head to look back, but he was too slow.
It was none other than Amanda.
Before he could even twitch, a hand grabbed the back of his uniform collar, yanking him backward with bone-jarring force. His legs were swept out from under him.
He hit the carpet hard, the breath driven completely from his lungs.
Instantly, a heavy, knee clad in black fabric drove itself into the center of his spine, pinning him face-down against the floor with crushing pressure. A hand grabbed a fistful of his green hair, yanking his head backward, exposing his neck.
And then, the freezing, razor-sharp edge of an enchanted combat blade was pressed firmly against his carotid artery. The metal hummed, vibrating slightly against his skin, promising instant, messy death.
"Talk," Amanda whispered directly into his ear. Her breath was cold. Her voice was utterly devoid of mercy. "Before I slit your throat and let you bleed out on this expensive rug."
She tightened her grip on his hair, pulling his head back another inch, pressing the blade just enough to break the first layer of skin. A single drop of warm blood welled up and slid down his neck.
Rudeus lay there, pinned like a helpless insect. He let out a long, ragged sigh, accepting the absolute precariousness of his situation. He had played his hand, and now he had to show his cards.
"It's Professor Vane," Rudeus choked out, his vocal cords strained by the angle of his neck.
Amanda didn't move. She didn't react.
"He is not human," Rudeus continued, forcing the words out quickly. "He is one of the Great Demon Generals of the Abyss. And his true, demonic name is... Dratkthar!"
Amanda's entire body tensed. The knee pressing into his spine dug in sharply.
Her slate-grey eyes widened in genuine, unadulterated shock as she heard that specific, forbidden name. Dratkthar. The Architect of Agony. A demon lord of immense power who had supposedly been banished centuries ago.
"Are you absolutely sure he is Dratkthar?!" Amanda demanded, her voice losing a fraction of its icy control, betraying her alarm. "Because if you are lying to me about a threat of this magnitude... I am not going to just kill you. I am going to peel your skin off while you watch!"
She pressed the blade slightly deeper against his throat to emphasize her point.
"Why—why would I possibly lie to you about something this massive?!" Rudeus replied frantically, his voice pitching higher in genuine terror as he felt the sting of the blade. "If you want more proof, I can even tell you exactly who is actively helping him from within the student body!"
He rushed to spill the rest of the lore, knowing it was his only lifeline.
"If you want, I can tell you exactly who the Demonic Human is! The inside man who was the one physically helping Vane's plan to smuggle lower-tier Demons inside the wards of this Academy! Also, think about it logically! There is absolutely zero benefit for me to lie to the Night Ravens about this! I already told you, this is a strict business deal! All I want is the nocturnal access to the Academy's underground gym! You can have the glory! You can take your elite squad and do whatever the fuck you want to Vane! I just want to lift weights!"
Rudeus babbled his explanation, genuinely terrified by the cold steel resting against his jugular.
The blade remained pressed deeply against his throat for a grueling, agonizing three seconds. Rudeus didn't dare swallow. He didn't dare breathe. He just stared at the carpet, waiting for the end.
Slowly, carefully, Amanda loosened her grip on his hair.
She pulled the blade away from his throat with a smooth, fluid motion, slipping it seamlessly back into her concealed thigh sheath. She stood up, stepping off his spine.
Rudeus collapsed flat onto the floor.
"Haah... haaah... haaah..."
He rolled over onto his back, gasping desperately for air, rubbing his hand over the small, stinging cut on his neck. He looked up at the ceiling, his heart still racing like a trapped bird.
"You are literally a crazy, psychotic bitch," Rudeus wheezed, his veteran foul mouth getting the better of his survival instincts once again.
Amanda, standing above him, instantly smoothed her apron. She flawlessly switched her demeanor, returning from the lethal Deathstalker back into the graceful, perfectly composed Head Maid.
"You really should not say such vulgar things to women, Young Master," Amanda chided politely, her voice calm and melodic.
Then, her eyes darkened, and her tone dropped back into the freezing abyss of killing intent for a single, terrifying sentence.
"Or else... I will slowly dismantle you myself."
Rudeus swallowed hard, thoroughly terrified. He didn't argue. He slowly pushed himself up from the floor, his limbs shaking slightly from the adrenaline crash, and walked back over to the plush armchair. He sat down heavily, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
Amanda walked back to the marble table. She gracefully took her seat, picking up her teacup as if the violent, near-lethal interrogation of the last three minutes had never occurred.
She switched her demeanor back to the analytical intelligence officer. She looked at Rudeus over the rim of her cup.
"Now, then," Amanda said calmly. "Can you please explain to me, precisely and methodically, exactly how a first-year student with no magical prowess managed to uncover Professor Vane's true, demonic identity? And furthermore, you will tell me exactly who this 'Demonic Human' accomplice is here in this academy."
Rudeus sighed again, rubbing his temples to stave off a developing migraine.
He leaned forward and began to explain everything.
Of course, the vast majority of his explanation was completely fabricated lies. He couldn't exactly tell her he knew the future because he had played a visual novel on his computer in another universe.
But he wove a masterful, highly credible web of deception. He mixed his lies heavily with the undeniable truths of the game's deep lore. He claimed that because he was treated as a "defect" and widely ignored by both students and faculty, he essentially possessed social invisibility. He claimed he had eyes and ears everywhere, utilizing the disgruntled servants and bullied commoners as his own private spy network.
He detailed exactly where Amanda could find the physical evidence to uncover Vane's secret identity. He directed her to the specific restricted alchemy labs in the northern tower where Vane was conducting his horrific blood experiments on the missing students he kidnapped from the lower districts.
And lastly, playing his final trump card, he revealed the name of the traitor. He told her that Gavin—the twitchy, bespectacled boy from Arcane Theory class—was the Demonic Human. He explained how Gavin was acting as the courier, physically bypassing the Academy's holy wards by carrying the corrupted mana crystals in his baseline human core to help Vane's overarching plan.
Amanda sat in absolute silence as she listened to Rudeus's detailed, incredibly cohesive explanation. She gently touched her chin with her gloved finger, her slate-grey eyes calculating the tactical implications of every single word he spoke.
"This is... literally catastrophic trouble, if what you have said is verifiable truth," Amanda murmured, her mind already racing with contingency plans and deployment strategies for her Night Raven operatives.
"What I said is the absolute truth!" Rudeus shouted, slightly defensive, still rubbing the shallow cut on his throat. "Check the labs yourself! Check Gavin's mana signature under an abyssal filter!"
"I know, Young Master," Amanda replied, her tone serious. "The details you provided are too specific, too perfectly aligned with our own fragmented intelligence reports to be a mere fabrication. But—"
"But what?" Rudeus interrupted, his anxiety spiking. "You still won't take my deal to let me use the Academy's subterranean gym? After I just handed you the biggest domestic terrorism plot of the decade on a silver platter?"
'Shit. I really, truly should have just stuck to Plan B or broken into the gym myself,' Rudeus thought inwardly, feeling the familiar sting of plans going awry.
Before Amanda could respond, the heavy oak doors leading to the living room swung open.
Loud, purposeful footsteps clicked against the carpet.
It was none other than Princess Veronica. She had changed out of her ruined, dirt-stained uniform and was now wearing a comfortable, yet incredibly elegant, casual dress of pale blue silk. Her eyes were still slightly red, but she had regained her haughty composure.
"I can vouch for him, Amy," Veronica announced, her voice clear and carrying an unexpected weight of authority as she walked into the antechamber.
Rudeus and Amanda both turned to look at her in surprise.
Veronica walked over and stood beside Amanda's chair, crossing her arms and looking down at Rudeus with a complex mixture of disdain and reluctant acknowledgment.
"Even though he is a pathetic, weak, and incredibly rude brute," Veronica continued, shooting a glare at Rudeus, "he is not entirely useless. He possesses a rather vast, surprisingly effective network of intelligence and blackmail material spread everywhere, including deep within this academy. After all..."
Veronica narrowed her eyes.
"He is still a Blackfyre. They are bred for espionage and warfare, even the defective ones."
Amanda nodded slowly, acknowledging the Princess's input. "But, Your Highness, that doesn't automatically mean his intelligence regarding a Great Demon General is accurate—"
"How about you simply use that covert infiltration method you utilize for the inner palace to verify what he said earlier? Investigate those alchemy labs to reveal Vane's true identity," Veronica replied, cutting her guardian off smoothly. She looked at Amanda with absolute trust. "If he is lying, you can kill him later."
Amanda sighed, a long, tired breath. She looked back at Rudeus, who was still busy gently touching his wounded neck.
"What you have said may indeed be true, Young Master," Amanda conceded, her tactical mind accepting the validity of the proposition. "But..."
She gestured elegantly toward the Princess.
"Is that truly all you desire? Clandestine access to a gymnasium in the dead of night? You know, you could simply ask your fiancée to formally request access for you through the royal prerogative. You wouldn't need to resort to blackmailing Imperial assassins."
Rudeus scoffed loudly, a harsh, bitter sound.
"Do you really think she would give a single, flying fuck about what I want?" Rudeus retorted, glaring at the Princess.
"Language, Young Master," Amanda reprimanded sharply.
Rudeus sighed again, throwing his hands up in defeat. He didn't want to make Amanda mad again. Rather, he really didn't want to see her draw that poisoned blade and try to execute him for a second time today.
"Fine, fine," Rudeus muttered, rolling his eyes. "But you know it's the truth. She really doesn't give a damn about me or my needs. We despise each other. And honestly, it doesn't matter anyway, because—"
Rudeus sat up straight, preparing to drop his final, ultimate goal onto the table.
"I am actively planning to formally annul our engagement contract."
Amanda's slate-grey eyes widened a fraction of an inch—a massive display of shock for the stoic assassin.
"You?" Amanda asked, genuine disbelief coloring her voice. "You want to annul the Imperial engagement?"
"Yeah. I want to annul that suffocating engagement," Rudeus stated firmly, looking directly at Veronica, who was staring at him in stunned silence. "I mean, it's a purely political, contractual right. There is absolutely no worth, no strategic value, and no personal joy in continuing this farcical betrothal if both sides explicitly do not want to be bound to each other."
Rudeus leaned back, feeling a wave of liberation wash over him.
"Also, you should not worry about Grand Duke Raemond's inevitable fury regarding the broken alliance. I will personally handle the political fallout and talk to my 'Father' about it. I have leverage."
Amanda pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she processed the sheer, catastrophic political ramifications of what she was hearing.
"You are a fool, Young Master," Amanda said, her voice tight with stress. "You know full well that this contractual marriage was not made lightly. It was forged because His Imperial Majesty the Emperor desperately wants to deepen and secure his military relationship with the Blackfyre Duchy to secure the Northern borders. And now, out of nowhere, you want to unilaterally annul the engagement? You know exactly how this arrogant action would throw the entire political landscape of the Empire into absolute chaos, including drawing the lethal ire of your Father upon your own head."
"I know the risks!" Rudeus countered passionately, leaning forward. "But, there is absolutely no use or dignity in me continuing to pathetically pursue Princess Veronica if she doesn't give a damn about me! She actively hates me! She ignores me all the time, treating me like I'm a disease not even worth acknowledging. I am tired of playing the whipped dog. That's why I give up! I am done!"
He pointed a finger at Veronica.
"Also, isn't that exactly what she wants?! I bet my life that breaking this contract is the only thing she has ever truly wanted from me!" Rudeus shouted, glaring fiercely at the Princess.
Veronica, suddenly feeling a profound, entirely unexpected wave of guilt wash over her, immediately avoided his harsh glare. She looked down at the carpet, biting her lower lip.
Because earlier that afternoon, after her hysterical crying fit in the garden, Amanda—her most trusted companion and her guardian—had sat her down and told her the unvarnished truth. Amanda had revealed Rudeus's horrific backstory. She had detailed how his own family treated him with the exact same cruelty and isolation that the Imperial Court had shown Veronica and her mother. But Amanda highlighted the crucial, tragic difference: while Veronica had her mother's love and the Emperor's eventual, guilty protection... Rudeus's father had completely, utterly abandoned him to the wolves.
Veronica felt a sickening twist in her stomach, realizing she had been acting just like the First Empress, abusing someone weaker than her simply because she could.
"Sigh... fine!" Amanda said, her voice cutting through the heavy emotional tension in the room.
She fixed Rudeus with a look of absolute, uncompromising authority.
"I will take your deal, Rudeus Blackfyre. I will investigate Vane, and I will grant you unrestricted, protected nocturnal access to the martial gymnasiums."
Rudeus smiled, a genuine expression of relief. "Great. Thank—"
"But—" Amanda interrupted, raising a single, commanding finger.
"You will not annul your engagement between the Princess and yourself."
Amanda stated the condition with the finality of a judge dropping a gavel. She slowly, deliberately dropped her hand down to rest lightly on the hilt of her concealed blade.
"Wha-what?!" Rudeus sputtered, completely blindsided, his smile instantly vanishing. "Why?! Isn't that high-level intelligence regarding a Demon General enough payment for a goddamn gym pass?!"
Rudeus was incredibly confused and frustrated. His entire overarching master plan involved leaving the academy after the chaotic incident which would happen three months from now. He wanted to fake his death, escape the Empire, cross the border, and save Rosetta so they could live a peaceful life away from the plot. That's exactly why he offered to officially annul the engagement now—so nobody would come looking for the missing Princess's fiancé.
"That is what I have decided, for the stability of the realm," Amanda said coldly, her eyes flashing. "And you will not go against my directive on this matter, Young Master. And I will not change my mind. This is my absolute, final decision. If you want me to let you take this deal, if you want to survive this room, then you will maintain the engagement."
Amanda then subtly, but noticeably, tightened her grip on her blade, the leather creaking slightly.
Rudeus violently flinched at the sound.
'What the fuck is so fundamentally important about this stupid political engagement?!' Rudeus screamed inwardly, pulling his hair in frustration. 'Fuck! All I want is to quietly leave this doom-bound academy, cross the continent, save Rosetta from her tragic fate, and live a peaceful, quiet life with her! Why the fuck is the universe making this so incredibly hard for me?!'
He stared at Amanda. He looked at the blade. He realized, with bitter clarity, that it wasn't a negotiation anymore. It was an ultimatum.
Though it seemed he had absolutely no choice in the matter, he sighed, a long, defeated exhalation that deflated his entire posture.
"Fine," Rudeus said, his voice dripping with venom and resentment. "I guess I have no choice. You know, you are a manipulative, extortionist scumbag of a Head Maid."
"Very well, then," Amanda smiled, entirely unfazed by his insult. She stood up from the marble table, smoothing her immaculate apron.
"Follow me, Young Master. We have logistics to arrange."
Rudeus just sighed again, a deeply put-upon sound. He pushed himself up from the armchair, his body aching from the earlier fight and the stress. He followed Amanda toward the door.
Before he left the room, he paused and looked back at Veronica.
The Princess was still standing by the sofa. She didn't look at him with arrogance or disdain this time. When he caught her eye, she immediately averted her gaze, looking down at the floor, a faint flush of what looked suspiciously like shame coloring her pale cheeks.
Rudeus just sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
He had fully expected this to be a smooth, transactional offer of intelligence for access. But rather, the result was a chaotic mess of him nearly getting his throat slit, being blackmailed by an assassin, and being explicitly forbidden from annulling the engagement that tied him to the plot he was trying to escape.
'I honestly thought this engagement was nothing but a piece of paper to them,' Rudeus thought, stepping out into the hallway behind Amanda, thoroughly confused by the geopolitical situation he was trapped in. 'I mean, after all, Rudeus is universally known as a defect and a bastard, right?! What possible strategic use is there in keeping me tied to the Princess?'
Rudeus shook his head, his mind spinning with the sheer complexity of the situation he was in. He let out one final, weary sigh.
'Whatever,' Rudeus thought, resigning himself to the grind. 'Let's just do whatever she wants for now. I need to get strong first. I'll figure out how to break the engagement and fake my death later.'