“So... Ling, answer me honestly. Is Alicia involved with this Daemon incursion?”

Thud!

Her heart lurched, a stone splashing into still water; she heard it without even pressing a hand to her chest.

When did it leak? Why? Was her act flawed? Or did a mole betray them?

Her thoughts spun like prayer wheels, looping without end, yet no answer rose from the dust.

No—stop. Think carefully. Stand in his shoes. What if King Alex only suspects and has no proof?

Rafi handled the entire plan. No leak there. Alex might have inferred it from a chain of events.

If she admitted it, the veil would tear for real. Don’t be afraid. Trust Rafi—no Daemon would be that foolish. Lie.

After wrestling with herself, she chose the lie. Truth would breed trouble; the lie would smother it.

A quick breath betrays a liar. Hold it. She didn’t even need air.

Eyes reveal tension. Close them for a beat, then wear a smile like a mask.

Steady the mood. Don’t tense. Keep the voice natural...

“Nope. Sis is still with the Elvenfolk. She said she had affairs to handle before returning. I came back first because I was bored~”

King Alex studied the little one; a glint flashed, then drowned beneath a kindness Ling couldn’t read.

He let his hand slip from beside her ear. The old king’s smile opened like dawn; age and white hair couldn’t dim the sunlit warmth behind it.

“Is that so? That’s great. I worried Alicia might get tangled with Daemons. If you vouch for it, good. But ‘no ties for now’ isn’t enough, Ling.

Remember—wherever, whenever—guard your sister Alicia well. Otherwise I won’t rest easy~”

He gripped her shoulders, turned her, and gave a gentle push, a quiet sign she could go.

Ling didn’t hesitate. She bowed at the threshold in farewell, then headed toward the Mystic Realm. She still had tasks to do.

Watching her silhouette fade, Alex’s sunlit smile collapsed. He sat like a man who’d lost his soul; the weathered weight on him deepened.

An elder of his years took the seat beside him. With a casual flick, he set a soundproof ward, ready for whispers.

“Your Majesty, what do you think?”

Alex let out a long sigh, as if the sky itself had dimmed.

“Tell me—what’s the chance that humans and nonhumans coexist in harmony, trade flows, no strife between species, and shared growth?”

The elder bowed his head, thought, then raised it like a finished sum.

“Majesty, each item alone has over a five percent chance. All of them together? It’s not a simple product.

You’d square it several times. It might even drop to zero.”

Another sigh spilled from Alex.

“Majesty, constant sighing isn’t good for your heart.”

“I’m in a foul mood; that’s why I sigh. Your theory gives me no comfort.”

“Then tell me why you sigh. Maybe I can shoulder some sorrow, even fall in your stead.

But you must not fall, Majesty. If you do, this nation is truly lost!”

As if answering, Alex clenched his fist and slammed the table again and again. A bright crater opened in the wood.

“You say you’ll shoulder it?

Can you fix my foolish sons?

Can you make each of them a king fit to rule?

Can you make Lik return industrial power to me?

Can you purge the Empire’s rot?

Can you restore the Empire’s prestige?

Can you drag this nation back to its brightest hour?!”

He vented on the wrong man, yet the elder sat like a steady stone. He didn’t interrupt, just listened to the storm pour out.

For a long while, Alex emptied it all. From statecraft to toilet bowls—every gripe got aired.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t dump this on you.”

“It’s fine, Majesty. If it lets you breathe a little, I have no complaints.”

“Thank you.”

“Then, your view on that last question?”

Alex lifted the hand that had brushed Ling’s cheek. He stared at it, colors he couldn’t name flickering in his eyes.

“I touched the facial artery—front edge of the masseter, under the jawline. You can feel a pulse there.”

“Mm. I’m listening, Majesty.”

“The moment I asked, that spot pounded like a drum.”

“And?”

“She lied.”