Supported by multiple sturdy rhombus-shaped pillars etched with faint violet patterns like thorns, the hall’s thick interlocking walls framed golden-laced window grilles. Inside, deep purple architecture and décor wove vibrant elegance with hidden mystery. Though not gilded splendor or opulent grandeur, the contrast of dark tones and white stone carved out a uniquely refined grace. On the white doors edged in gold, a floral emblem glowed softly with purple light—unidentifiable at a glance: rose-like from afar, redbud-like up close. Its silhouette merged both blooms, centered by a faint demonic sigil.

“Come in.”

Sensing the visitor, a melodious female voice drifted through the barrier. Just those two words stirred even the steadiest heart—yet sparked no fantasy. For all knew: this voice belonged to someone perilously untouchable, utterly beyond reach, a presence never to be angered.

At her consent, the door’s floral seal shifted like clockwork. Patterns unwound; sections dimmed. The doors swung open—unaided.

Through the opening strode guards: several female Succubus Curses in armor, escorting handcuffed prisoners of both genders in convict gray. Forced to the hall’s center, a sharp kick behind the knees dropped them to the floor. Heads bowed. They dared not look up. They knew their crime meant death.

*Bang!*

The throne’s occupant slammed the armrest. Goosebumps erupted across trembling skin.

“Look at me! Do you wretches know your crime?!”

Eyes snapped upward. She wore a violet gown embroidered in gold. Black over-knee socks traced flawless curves. One hand propped her cheek beneath twin violet drills. Her heterochromatic eyes—violet and gold—burned with icy fury. Curved black horns, veined in purple, crowned her: the symbol of absolute, unapproachable power. Zi Li’s rage cut sharp through cold composure. Her gaze felt like blades—ready to strike at the slightest misstep.

“Your Imperial Majesty, we were wrong!” they kowtowed desperately.

“Wrong? You guards let my beloved granddaughter escape—and turned on me? You don’t just *know* you’re wrong. You—"

Anticipating death or worse, they trembled, foreheads pressed to stone. “It’s… it’s because Princess Zila is so lovely, so radiant… her charm is unmatched… we just—"

“So the fault lies with my granddaughter…?” Zi Li’s voice dropped, hollow and cold on the final syllable.

Their praise backfired. Faces paled. “No! Our fault!” “Yes! Entirely ours!”

“Charmed by my granddaughter? One thing. But to *attempt* violating her—*then* release her?!”

A chill thickened the air. Violet energy swirled around Zi Li.

“Mercy, Your Majesty! We won’t dare again!”

Realizing their words fanned her fury, two prisoners shuddered violently, kowtowing without pause.

“As Belanite Clan guards, weak will is forgivable if her innate charm overwhelmed you. But *that*? You—!" Zi Li’s grip cracked the armrest. Her eyes blazed.

“Aunt, please calm yourself.”

A new voice—clear, warm—entered with grace. Deya Nokasi stepped in: warrior attire armored at the hips, cherry-pink hair flowing beside petite purple bat-winged horns. Twin drills cascaded to her waist. Her tea-purple eyes held gentle magnetism. Nearly Zi Li’s height, her features echoed familial resemblance. She bypassed the prisoners, knelt on one knee.

“Aunt, Deya Nokasi pays her respects.”

“Rise, niece. No need for such formality with me.”

Zi Li’s anger softened. She rose, descended the dais with feline poise, and gently touched Deya’s head—not childish, but tender.

“Long time no see, Little Ya. You’ve grown even lovelier,” Zi Li murmured, voice transformed—warm where fury once raged.

“Aunt, you look younger too! They say anger steals a woman’s beauty. Please smile more,” Deya replied with a polite bow, hands clasped behind her back, gaze respectfully lowered.

“Little Ya… you heard from your grandmother?” Zi Li’s tone softened to maternal warmth.

“Yes, Aunt. Grandmother told me of Cousin Zila. I’ve come for her.”

“For her? How so?” Zi Li’s lips curved. Eyes narrowed in knowing amusement. Noting Deya’s battle gear, weapons, and travel-worn pack—no further words needed. She’d come for Zila.

“Volunteering? Brave girl. Worthy of being my niece,” Zi Li praised.

“Aunt, my parents have given consent. I *will* bring Zila home. But… I have one small question.”

“Ask.” Zi Li gestured gracefully.

“Aunt… when… exactly… did you gain a granddaughter? And… is she truly that adorable?” Deya’s eyes flickered shyly.

“Ah…” Zi Li glanced at the trembling prisoners behind her.

“Recently. She carries our clan’s sacred bloodline. As for ‘adorable’… what do *you* think?”

No direct answer—but Deya understood. Zi Li guarded Zila’s origins. Yet adorableness? Deya already knew. Palace guards of the Belanite Clan required strength and iron will—resistance to potent Succubus Curse allure. In all Zi Ling Kingdom, none surpassed Zi Li: Empress, aunt, elder sister to Deya’s grandmother. Even visiting her own grandmother left Deya breathless, sometimes stirred beyond control. And Zi Li? Her beauty was legendary. To Deya, she was less royalty—more idol. A radiant, untouchable star.