Lilithia was stunned.

If she were the Tulip Queen, she’d mass-produce such gear. But she’d expected caution—secrecy, at least. Yet the Queen’s move was bold.

Envoys arrived directly to declare her a Blood Viscount.

They even said she could “name any price.”

This reeked of the unspoken arrogance only a mighty empire could wield. Who’d dare question it? Who’d be foolish enough to demand too much?

Though Lilithia set the price, she sensed the Empress’s test.

“Pay me market value for everything I forge. Use half of it to buy blood from powerful creatures. And I won’t sell all my work to the Empire. How’s that?”

Lilithia stated her terms.

“That falls within my authority. I accept.”

The offer was too low.

Reading between the lines, the Empress’s permission far exceeded her request. No need to seek higher approval.

But for Lilithia, this was enough. She could’ve pushed for more. Yet demanding more meant owing more later.

Accepting unearned gifts would bind her to the Empire’s unseen debts.

She quoted market rates to keep distance—even as a noble, tied to the Tulip Empire by title.

She held no real loyalty to this nation.

Only Fiore kept her here. If he left, she’d leave too.

A Vampire-like being, yet an apostle of the sun? The irony stung. Vampires shunned light by nature.

Chasing the sun might only push her further into darkness—

Lilithia stared at her porcelain-white arm. Blood suddenly welled, forming a tiny, miniature Fiore on her skin.

A blood-controlling monster.

Humans would find this terrifying. They instinctively feared bleeding. But Lilithia, used to daily bloodletting, felt uneasy without it.

Fiore’s blood and the Demon King’s blood warred inside her, etching glowing patterns. She didn’t know the outcome. Yet their clash affected her.

Especially the Demon King’s drop.

It pulsed with unstable, chilling pressure. It probed Fiore’s blood’s limits, testing boundaries.

Yes—Lilithia used “tested.”

Whenever free, she observed the two drops.

The Demon King’s blood felt inhuman. Almost sentient. It sought Fiore’s blood’s breaking point, scheming.

She’d split off a portion into a clone, yet its influence remained. She wondered how the Empire handled the blood she’d surrendered.

Should she make another clone? Dump all the Demon King’s blood inside? She’d grown wary of it. Truth was, she’d been stubborn back then.

She owed the Holy Maiden an apology. She’d harshly scolded her for mistreating Fiore. But Lilithia had twisted facts, weaponizing arguments.

Otaku weren’t bad at debates. They just hesitated. Once committed, their angles turned razor-sharp.

They’d seen endless tropes and rhetoric. Distorting truths or perceptions? Easy to mimic convincing logic on the spot.

Meanwhile, the Holy Maiden returned to the frontlines.

“Where tulips bloom, the Empire reigns. The Church’s light must shine there.”

She marched to spread chapel radiance. Frontlines rarely had chapels. Everyone knew clerics could achieve much. But the Church—

Was too merciful.

History held cases where the Church defied military orders. Especially when powerful clerics imposed personal wills on battlefields.

“They can’t fight back. Must you slaughter them?”

Such choices were double-edged. Clerics prevented rebel uprisings by sparing foes. Yet disguised enemy elites had infiltrated deep after surrender, crippling the Empire.

Killing them all would’ve stopped that.

The Tulip Empire never acted this way before. But after the Sword Saint’s rise, everything changed. The Church’s power spanned the continent, yet only a Sage and a Saint guarded the Holy Land. Bishops elsewhere lacked that strength.

With its own Saint, the Tulip Empire ignored the Church’s local will.

The Holy Maiden’s frontline mission clearly carried the Empire’s blessing.

…

“What brings the Holy Maiden to me?”

Seeing that flawless face, Lilithia almost complained: Do powerful people never knock? No sense of privacy?

But she held her tongue—Bernadette’s strength demanded respect.

Bernadette bowed deeply. “I apologize for my earlier behavior. I was out of line. And… thank you.” She lifted her head. Sincerity glowed in her eyes. “Your words woke me from arrogance and ignorance. I’m truly grateful.”

Such humility stunned Lilithia. She’d expected a heroine’s grace, but not genuine holiness. She’d braced for betrayal, ready to fight. Instead, Bernadette’s attitude was impeccable.

“Sit first.”

Lilithia gestured to a chair. Such courtesy meant business. No one visited just to apologize. Bernadette showed no sign of leaving.

“What tea would you like?”

“Anything is fine.”

“Alright.”

Lilithia tossed a tea bag into a kettle. A magic stove ignited beneath it.

“I figured you’d come. But not this soon. Building chapels sounds troublesome. I heard they’re like mobile weapons.”

She was already a master smith. Remarkable for a girl not yet twelve—though she looked fifteen or sixteen.

Now, she seemed only slightly younger than Bernadette. Two silver-haired girls faced each other in Lilithia’s spacious new room.

Noble privileges had upgraded her forge too. More space, better tools.

Bernadette meant to ease into the topic. But meeting Lilithia’s gaze, she felt utterly exposed.

“It’s… about Luna. I need your help. Or rather—your wisdom.”

She cut straight to the point.

Exactly what Lilithia wanted. She avoided Fiore’s harem ties. Especially the likely heroine. Who knew when she’d snap and stab her?

“About Luna?”

“Hmph~ that little Seer girl.” Lilithia smirked. “Let me guess. She told you fate has shifted? Demanded you follow destiny’s path?”

Bernadette’s shocked expression confirmed it.

Just as Lilithia suspected. From their first meeting, she knew Luna was a Seer. But was she a future-seer—or something twisted? A time-looper, reliving history?

The latter felt likelier.

She’d learned of the Wishstone—a Divine Artifact. If it swayed even the Demon King…

Had someone in history wished to “redo” their life? Like Luna, losing everything after defeating the Demon King, craving a second chance?

That explained her certainty about fate.

Luna seemed lost about herself—yet knew Lilithia should exist.

But not like this.

Not as the original Lilithia.

Which was it?

The corners of Lilithia’s mouth curled slightly.

Seeing that familiar smirk, the Holy Maiden inched her chair back.