The chill that seeped into Maureen’s very soul felt like an invisible tide, enveloping and stabbing at every cell in her body. It was colder and more bone-piercing than the frost at dawn.

Faced with the Silver Dragon Queen, Maureen could not help but feel utterly powerless and weak.

The Queen's eyes seemed capable of slicing through one’s soul. Those deep, jewel-like silver pupils shone sharply even through the veil of her wind-blown silver hair. They radiated a dignity and power that demanded absolute submission. She stood like a snow-covered peak—silent, aloof, and insurmountable.

Maureen’s instinctive attempt to recoil had felt pathetically futile.

Her knees quivered instinctively, as if proclaiming that the last ounce of resistance had been ruthlessly crushed. The friction between the mute leather of her boots and the gravel beneath produced faint yet helpless sounds.

Her survival instinct had been smothered under the palpable pressure of the Queen’s presence. She resembled a fragile snow lotus swaying in the wind, hesitating on the edge of a cliff of fate.

At that moment, her body moved with a stiffness and slowness as though every string in her was being pulled taut, a marionette struggling against the infernal forces manipulating her. It felt as if soul-binding chains clinked against every joint, and the once-smiling puppet had been shattered, leaving only a profound sadness and lifeless despair.

With every step the Queen took closer, her oppressive aura seemed to solidify the very air. It left Maureen feeling as though she were standing in a cemetery on a wintry night—eerily silent and utterly lifeless.

Around her, the once-vivid flowers had lost all color, swaying faintly in the breeze as mere gray shadows. The anger in the Queen’s eyes was like a comet falling from the night sky—terrifying, unstoppable.

With a dull thud, Maureen dropped to her knees.

If she dared to keep resisting, this oppressive force would surely snap her spine in two.

Her trembling hands pressed against the ground as cold sweat trickled from her nose and chin, then dropping steadily onto the dirt. Her breaths were heavy and labored, her wide eyes brimming with terror.

She had already foreseen her fate—

No. There was no need for foresight.

Ten minutes earlier, when Sherry had approached her, she had spelled it out clearly: the only outcome for a traitor was death.

A pair of elegant high-heeled shoes appeared in Maureen’s line of sight.

She dared not look up. The strength she had left was barely enough to maintain her breath, let alone to lift her head.

The next second, the faint rustling of fabric against skin reached her ears as the figure before her crouched slowly.

A slender hand extended, hooking beneath Maureen’s chin and forcing her head upwards.

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, her violently trembling pupils threatening to shatter like a fragile pane of glass.

Though the Queen’s expression was unreadable, the fury and disappointment in her gaze were impossible to conceal.

Maureen had thought there might be some hint of “confusion” in her expression.

To be betrayed by a maid who had served her for over a decade—wouldn’t she at least be a little curious about the reasons behind it?

But after a fleeting moment of introspection, Maureen quickly realized the answer:

The Silver Dragon Queen had no need to understand.

Her treachery exposed, her identity laid bare—Maureen had earned nothing but the Queen’s anger and disappointment.

"You just now…” the Queen said coldly.

The Queen’s voice was as cold and biting as winter’s frost, sending a shiver through Maureen.

“When you acted to kill me, did you feel not even a flicker of guilt?”

"Your Majesty..." Maureen stammered.

“Do you think you still have the right to call me ‘Your Majesty’ now?”

“...”

“I was on the brink of giving birth, Maureen. It was the moment of celebration for a new life’s arrival in the Silver Dragon Clan, and yet you chose that very time to betray me and side with the enemy. Do you realize, Maureen, that if not for my husband, your actions would have claimed not only my life and my daughter’s life but also the lives of thousands of our kin?"

Roswitha’s rage was rooted in two simple truths.

First, due to the unique reproductive methods among the Dragon Clans—not just the Silver Dragons—the birth of new life was always a monumental occasion, especially in cases of live births, which were treated as paramount events.

Second, Maureen’s betrayal and collusion with the enemy had nearly led to a catastrophic loss of life among the Silver Dragons.

Constantine’s power was undeniable, and though Anna, a warrior of near Dragon King-level strength, stood among the elite, even she had been powerless before him.

Thus, Roswitha’s words were by no means an exaggeration—if not for Leon, there might not be a Silver Dragon Clan left today.

Of course, Roswitha knew in her heart that Leon’s intervention had little to do with the survival of the clan. His actions had been driven by a desire to protect their daughters and… her.

But that matter could wait for another day. For now, the most pressing task was dealing with the traitor before her.

"I won’t sentence you immediately, Maureen. Is there any information you possess that you haven’t disclosed to me but would like to share now?” Roswitha asked.

Maureen clenched her fists, feeling the warmth of Roswitha’s fingertips beneath her chin, and gathered her courage to meet the Queen’s gaze.

"I have nothing to say to you. Nor does Sherry," she answered resolutely.

Roswitha raised an eyebrow, then, to Maureen’s astonishment, let out a faint, mocking laugh.

Maureen was dumbfounded by her reaction.

What… was she laughing at?

“My husband once told me, ‘You can know a person’s face, but never their heart.’ Someone who appears simple and obedient may harbor nothing but deceit.”

Roswitha continued, “Even now, you still try to drag your accomplice Sherry down with you, Maureen.”

With just five simple words, "Nor does Sherry," Maureen had inadvertently exposed the cunning and treachery hidden beneath her seemingly harmless exterior.

From her perspective, Sherry had been kind enough, even offering to take her along during their escape—though they were caught before they could succeed. Even so, had they not attempted to flee, the inevitable internal purge following that night would have sealed Maureen’s fate as well.

Yet, in this final standoff, she had attempted to ensure that Sherry, too, had no chance to bargain for clemency by cooperating.

Did she believe Roswitha wouldn’t see through her?

No matter. It was irrelevant.

Because—

“If you turn around now, you’ll see that your dear Sherry isn’t kneeling beside you,” Roswitha said coldly.

“W-what…”

Maureen turned her head sharply, and sure enough, she saw Sherry still standing, watching her with icy indifference.

“Sherry, you! You tricked me!” Maureen exclaimed in shock and fury.

“And a traitor has the audacity to feel angry over being deceived?” Sherry replied, her tone calm and detached.

“You…”

Maureen wanted to curse these people for their shamelessness and deceit.

But such accusations could hardly come from her—a traitor.

That would be absurd(a complete inversion of right and wrong).

However, someone else voiced the sentiment for her.

From behind a tree came the voice of the Queen’s husband.

The dark-haired man emerged from the shadows, walking towards Maureen at a measured pace. He said softly,

“You may think that our methods of luring you out were unethical, maybe even despicable. But this isn’t about enforcing some legal code. So long as we could flush out a traitor like you, what does it matter what means we used?”

Using the appropriate methods in the appropriate situation—Mr.Cosmod deeply understood this principle.

He wasn’t a police officer who needed a warrant to arrest a murderer.

Similarly, when rooting out a spy, there was no need to follow a strict sequence of “clue → evidence → deduction → identification.”

Put simply, it didn’t matter if it was a black cat or a white cat—so long as it caught the rat, it was a good cat.

“But how did you know it was me…” Maureen asked the question all exposed spies or traitors tend to ask.

Leon, hearing this, found the question oddly familiar.

Victor had asked something similar when he’d been exposed.

Still, Leon was kind enough to offer this traitorous lady an explanation.

“Do you remember the day your Queen was going into labor—"

He paused abruptly, realizing that this phrasing was perhaps inappropriate, and immediately corrected himself.

“Do you remember the day my wife was going into labor? You came to inform me, claiming a certain path through the rear mountain was safe and could be used as an escape route. But I used a simple birthday blessing enchantment to test things out, and it immediately flushed out the ambush of Crimson Dragons lying in wait.”

Maureen’s mind was transported back to that day.

Before the attack, she had indeed received orders from Constantine to lure Roswitha to that particular rear mountain path.

And she had dutifully carried out those orders step by step.

What she hadn’t expected was that this man, who usually seemed like nothing more than a devoted father and doting prince, would display such military shrewdness—cautious yet keenly aware of her unusual behavior.

“So that’s… how it was…”

“Of course, that alone wasn’t enough to confirm you as the traitor,” Leon said.

“Then… when did you confirm… that I was the traitor?”

Leon feigned a moment of deep thought before replying earnestly, “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ten minutes ago…” Maureen felt her intelligence had just been thoroughly insulted.

This was entrapment. Simple as that.

After all, the other side didn’t need to abide by any so-called “rules and procedures.”

And Leon’s methods went beyond mere entrapment. He always acted boldly yet with precision.

By deliberately sending Sherry to set the bait late at night, they avoided alarming the real traitor had Maureen not been the one. It would have prevented the actual betrayer from suspecting a trap.

But as things stood, General Lai’s judgment had proven accurate.

Roswitha released Maureen’s chin and rose gracefully. From above, she looked down at her former maid.

“I have no interest in the reasons behind your betrayal. My husband once told me that the moment a traitor makes their choice, all their reasons become meaningless. And of course, I completely agree with his other statement as well.”

“Traitors cannot be allowed to live.”

Roswitha turned her gaze towards the head maid.

“Anna, take her to the dungeon. We’ll deal with her another day.”