Elsa’s gaze swept the room. Confirming no traces of others remained, she turned to Philoire.

“Your Highness Philoire, this place isn’t safe. Come with me.”

Philoire recalled Suran’s words again.

*If she doesn’t take me away immediately… then I won’t go.*

*“Elsa really didn’t take me right away… How did she know?”* Philoire thought silently.

Clearly, Elsa had checked for intruders first—only then proposed leaving. Though brief, the sequence mattered.

“No. I’m staying with Sister Plamia,” Philoire refused. “I went through so much to escape. Elsa… you understand, right? You’ll keep this secret for me?”

She followed Suran’s plan—and truthfully, she didn’t want to leave anyway.

“Your Highness… *sigh*… Very well. I’ll stay and protect you.”

Elsa bowed respectfully, ordered the others outside, and remained within to guard Philoire personally.

Relief washed over Philoire.

*Only now did it click.*

Elsa had been checking for the assassin.

*After being captured, she must’ve been forced to reveal this location. Otherwise, how would the assassin find us?*

*If Elsa’s hunting the assassin… should I tell her the truth?* Philoire pondered. *Even if she’s watching me now… silence puts us both in danger.*

Suddenly, it struck her: the assassin hadn’t harmed her earlier—she was bait. To lure Elsa.

Philoire had heard tales of assassins who toyed with prey. *She deliberately let Elsa go, told her “I’ll come here,” faked her absence, then planned a surprise strike!*

How wicked. Absolutely despicable!

“Elsa, listen! Actually—”

Philoire tried to correct herself, to reveal Suran’s visit.

But her words cut off mid-sentence.

Turning toward Elsa, she met the cold gleam of a drawn blade.

“…Eh?” Philoire froze.

“Your Highness, you truly should’ve stayed quietly in your room tonight,” Elsa said, one hand clutching the magic crystal taken from Plamia, the other leveling the sword at Philoire. “But since you’re here… consider yourself a ‘bonus gift.’”

*The crystal’s still here. Suran hasn’t arrived. No need to pretend anymore.*

“Elsa! Put that down! This is outrageous!” Philoire swallowed hard, brow furrowed, voice trembling with command.

Elsa nudged the blade forward slightly. Philoire flinched back, falling silent.

“Stop bluffing, Your Highness. Compared to your elder siblings, you’re far too soft—spoiled by His Majesty, utterly lacking a princess’s dignity,” Elsa chuckled coldly. “Let’s be clear: Plamia’s teammates? I killed them. Her current state? Entirely my doing.”

“Wh-what?”

“I knew you’d never accept the forged evidence after her execution. You’d keep digging… causing me trouble later. So—better eliminate you now. Eradicate the risk.”

Philoire fell silent.

*Elsa… the murderer? Slaughtering comrades, framing Plamia… and now raising a blade against me?*

“…Why?” Anger flared in her eyes. “Sister Plamia respected you deeply. Why?”

“Respect? *Hehehe…* Do you call *that* respect?” Elsa’s laughter twisted into a snarl. “An orphan of unknown origin—*I* pulled her from the gutter! How dare she surpass me?! How dare she earn the title ‘Great Hero’?! The more she ‘respected’ me, the more it made my skin crawl!!”

Plamia was Elsa’s own discovery from the orphanage. She’d meant to groom her as a deputy—but Plamia was a prodigy. Her growth was terrifying: swordsmanship surpassing most knights within years; mastering the Sacred Flame just two years after awakening it at her coming-of-age ceremony; defeating Elsa head-on in the Holyflame Knight trials. Later, the King himself named her “Great Hero,” and in her speech, she praised Elsa with heartfelt gratitude.

To all, they were a revered senior-junior pair.

But jealousy had long clouded Elsa’s vision.

Everything *she* deserved—stolen.

Her greatest regret? Saving Plamia.

Thus, Plamia’s reverence felt like mockery.

“You’ve disappointed me deeply, Elsa,” Philoire shook her head, voice heavy. “Sister Plamia is exceptional. She deserves every honor. She’s *my* idol… yet the one *she* looked up to… is a beast in human skin.”

“Heh. Words mean nothing now.” Elsa smirked, utterly unconcerned.

“Farewell, Your Highness. Don’t worry—Plamia will join you soon.”

Without mercy, she thrust the sword forward.

*At the last second—*

A hoarse voice cut through: “Your Highness… I respected Senior Elsa… but I’ve told you many times… the one I look up to… is Lord Suran…”

“What?!” Elsa’s pupils shrank.

Hypnotized Plamia lunged in front of Philoire, shielding her with her body.

“Heh. Waking up just in time? Then *you* go first!” Surprise vanished in an instant. Elsa poured strength into the strike—

*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*

Blades sliced the air. Elsa’s sword clattered away, her wrist nearly shattered by the impact. More daggers struck her arms and thighs. She flew backward, pinned hard against the wall.

Gritting through agony, she looked down—*those daggers…*

“How was that, Your Highness?”

Suran sat casually on the windowsill, twirling a dagger with a faint smile.

“This surprise… thrilling enough?”