The royal council hall was wrapped in warmth, soft as silk and down.
Calm tasted brittle as frost. Liliana sat upright in her wheelchair, listening to accusations while feeling the room breathe around her.
“The Institute’s safety record’s always been poor. And now the Dark Realm’s risk is raised to S-class—are you trying to endanger the Empire?!”
“We never should’ve let Stratford study Dark Realm Magic!”
The blame was sharp as glass, yet it sketched people by sound: where they stood, how they burned, and which way their anger leaned.
Words collided in the wide chamber and sent back layered echoes. The delays and fading swells worked like sonar, mapping depth and span.
Voices came in timbres—cello-deep and steady, piccolo-shrill and needling, violin-quiet and restrained. The scolding merged in order, like a symphony in a concert hall.
Sometimes, she caught faint talk in the distance and the papery flutter of pages. Those whispers filled the background like mist, adding texture to the soundscape.
She drew in a slow breath. The fireplace gave a light noble-wood fragrance. Leather, ink, and incense threaded together, needling her nose.
They rose from folders on the table, steel pens, and cologne drifting from the nobles like a perfumed trail.
“Ms. Clara,” a noble thumped the table, wood ringing like a drum. “The Dark Realm’s risk upgrade—no explanation?”
“Sorry. I’m still orienting myself here. I didn’t take in a word you said.”
“Fine—sure—we’ll wait till you get settled.”
Liliana tilted her head, letting the light settle on her skin like warm water.
It was soft, even light—no blistering glare, no clinging shadow—cast from many directions.
Chandeliers set in the ceiling, sconces riding the walls—each lamp spilled calm radiance.
The balance was so true the hall held almost no stark contrast, like a sky without storm lines.
For someone with limited sight, that design felt like a hand outstretched.
“Where did you leave off?” she asked, her voice like leaves brushed by a breeze.
“The Dark Realm’s risk climbed from C-class straight to S-class! Isn’t that your dereliction?”
“Risk doesn’t change along a neat line. It’s tangled by many factors—flux in ambient mana, human interference, and unforeseeable external events.”
“You’re dodging responsibility?”
She shook her head, spine steady as a spear. “Calling it ‘dereliction’ misses the knot.”
“Instead, we should focus on how to meet the risk together. Draft and execute emergency plans, learn hard lessons, and strengthen our risk framework.”
“It’s all Stratford’s mess,” another noble snapped, voice like a whip. “If she hadn’t signed with His Majesty on Dark Realm Magic, Shattered City’s Dark Realm would be shut.”
“Now you want us to help you prevent repeats? What a joke.”
“Blaming a single person or one agreement for the Dark Realm’s rise is too simple,” she said, voice cool as shade. “It’s a system of many moving parts.”
“The phenomenon’s complexity, its imperial impact, and the Institute’s strategies interlock like gears. You can’t fault one cog and call it truth.”
“So you’ll make the upgrade public and panic the crowd?”
“Transparency builds trust like a bridge over floodwater. With a risk this grave, citizens have the right to know.”
“Hiding or softening breeds rumor that blooms like mold, and fear spreads faster—like your paper’s stories on Shattered City.”
“You failed to predict when the Dark Realm would open in Shattered City. It turned into a dead city. Even if I sensationalize it, you’re blameless?”
“Failing to time the opening, and losing any chance to save them—that is my responsibility.”
Daniele listened. When Liliana shifted from the Institute’s collective “we” to the raw first person “I,” her face went still as cooled wax.
Her eyes flashed with tangled light—shock, confusion, and a sorrow that wouldn’t name itself. You were in the hospital then. Why carry that alone?
Liliana gathered her thoughts like weaving loose threads. “Forecasting the Dark Realm crosses geology, climate, and mana studies.”
“We have advanced monitors and a trained team. But nature’s temper and the Dark Realm’s uncertainty make prediction a mountain of fog.”
“What a waste of all that funding!”
“Every coin we get goes where it should. Equipment purchases, training talent, refining our methods.”
“The Institute strains for precision and speed. That’s our duty, and our answer to every taxpayer.”
“Fine words. What about the Dark Realm Magic Research Agreement you signed with His Majesty—how will you handle it?”
“We’ll intensify our work on Dark Realm Magic and probe its mechanisms.”
“We aim for deep cooperation with the top magic academies. We’ll share findings and push the field forward.”
Silence fell over the old nobility like a velvet curtain.
Never mind their delicate ties with the Dark Realm Research Institute.
The new nobility’s machinery sector pressed in step by step, while they themselves choked on a bottleneck in magic research.
When profit meets cliff edge, who would pull talent from core projects and throw them at the unknown sea?
Besides, Dark Realm research is a gold-eating beast with a bottomless belly.
“So,” Kito Melinda toyed with a pen, metal glinting like a fish scale. He swept his gaze over the old camp. “You already have someone in mind?”
“The old nobility who founded the magic academies know talent far better than I do.”
“So I ask you to recommend a few gifted and trustworthy people.”
Ens Ivry drew a long breath, wind through reeds. He heard the hint of sides being chosen, yet still asked, “How confident are you in Dark Realm Magic?”
“This question touches the core,” she said. “Exploring the unknown carries uncertainty like a shadow.”
“I can’t give exact odds or a timetable. This isn’t just magic. It’s about understanding the Dark Realm’s nature.”
“I don’t want empty words.”
She folded her earlier phrasing away like a fan. “We’ll build a cross-disciplinary expert team and look at Dark Realm Magic from every angle.”
“Handle Shattered City’s Dark Realm first,” Kito Melinda cut in, voice cold as a blade. “Where do you find time to think about Dark Realm Magic?”
Silence pooled again, black as ink.
From the start, Liliana knew the new nobility wouldn’t let the old houses and the Institute link hands. She only wanted to try to get Hedi Melvina.
“Shattered City’s Dark Realm is our most urgent task,” she said after a beat, thoughts flickering like candlelight.
“But we can’t ignore Dark Realm Magic. Shattered City shows the surface. If we only patch the present and ignore the depths, the crisis stays in our bones.”
Kito Melinda glanced at the old nobles and smiled, thin as a razor. “Pour a fortune into a study with no visible result? That’s a losing bet.”
“Besides, Stratford signed with His Majesty. The Institute should solve it alone.”
“The Institute will shoulder that duty,” she said, quiet as dusk. “But understand this—Dark Realm Magic is complex and arduous.”
“It needs heavy resources, people, and time. If it’s only us, breakthroughs won’t come quick.”
Kito heard the escape hatch under her words. If research stalled, he’d be the perfect scapegoat, the wall to pin it on.
He didn’t blink. “In that case, why not let the new nobility and the Institute go forward together?”
“Agreed.” She caught the opening and cast a new hook. “I’m very interested in whether our current anti-magic devices can withstand Dark Realm Magic.”
The old nobles’ faces turned storm-dark, displeasure rising like smoke.
That line shoved them straight into the game.
If current anti-magic devices could block Dark Realm Magic, their already shrinking margins would be pressed flat.
“Melinda!” one of them hammered the table again, the sound a hard clap. “Dark Realm research is a bottomless pit!”
Kito Melinda clicked his tongue and rolled with the slope. “Thinking of cooperation, I forgot that part.”
Liliana took the chance and extended the olive branch again, green as hope.
“Even if we cooperate,” the old nobles traded looks and swallowed words, “the timeline is… uncertain—”
“Then give me one scholar of magic first. Let them see the work. The Institute will cover the cost.”
“Who do you want?”
“Hedi Melvina.”
