“Archangel, it’s like this… I heard The Church is preparing to welcome you back to the Holy City. I’m a little worried about your health.”

Hearing the girl’s question, Kroso immediately voiced his concern.

But since the Archangel was, after all, The Church’s representative, he couldn’t openly share certain speculations that might cause friction.

While waiting for her reply, however, Kroso suddenly sensed an oddly intense gaze fixed on him.

He turned quickly—and froze. The source of that unsettling look was none other than the Archangel herself?

What’s going on?

The way she was staring at him…

Why did it send a chilling shiver down his spine?

He’d never seen such a strange smile on the girl’s face. For a moment, Kroso was utterly dumbfounded.

“Ah? Oh… I see. Thank you for your concern, Hero. My health is fine for now—nothing serious.”

Sensing the room’s atmosphere growing awkward, Sylvia snapped back to reality.

Just moments ago, she’d been deep in thought, recalling alchemical formulas from the original story related to unconsciousness-inducing effects.

But realizing the very person involved was standing right before her… of course she felt flustered. Nervous.

“Archangel… were you feeling unwell just now?”

Watching the girl hastily mask her emotions, Kroso grew even more puzzled.

He’d never seen the Archangel act like this. Instinctively, worry crept in—was the toxin inside her stirring again?

Could the high-level succubus corruption be resurfacing?

At the thought, his chest tightened.

“It’s nothing! I just… the Hero’s words reminded me I’ll see old acquaintances I haven’t contacted in ages once we return. I felt happy, that’s all.”

Afraid he’d overthink it, Sylvia rushed to explain.

“I see…”

Though her tone still felt slightly off, it eased his worry enough for Kroso to drop the subject.

But how could he warn her about The Church’s elders—right in front of her?

Tricky…

“Hero!”

Seeing Kroso hesitate, Sylvia guessed his intent.

“Are you here to warn me about the elders of The Church?”

“Hm?”

Hearing his own unspoken thought voiced by her left Kroso stunned—then overjoyed.

So the Archangel knew they might turn on her too?

“Yes! Archangel, I know it’s presumptuous to suspect the elders… but your strength and condition are severely weakened by the toxin. I fear they’ll demand a full examination. If they…”

A grim image flashed in his mind. He trailed off.

“Hero, are you worried they’ll discover the undispellable toxin inside me? It can’t be hidden. I’m already working on a solution.”

Sylvia instantly grasped his concern.

Truth was, she had no answer yet. The only path: prove she still possessed the baseline power to remain Archangel of Supremacy.

Not just magic—agility, strength, all restored to at least level 70. Only then would The Church lack grounds to depose her.

And for that… she’d have to rely on the Hero before her.

She glanced at Kroso, emotions tangled beyond words.

“Mm…”

Hearing even she was at a loss, Kroso grasped the gravity. No solution came to mind—he fell into silent thought.

“Hero, we won’t solve this now. Go rest. Tomorrow, after boarding the royal ceremonial airship, I’ll summon you to my room with the Blink Rune tonight. We’ll discuss properly then.”

Seeing Kroso frown in deep thought, Sylvia felt grateful—but knew it was futile.

If the Hero could sway The Church, the original story wouldn’t have needed a dark path.

Her plan was the only realistic one.

“This… works! Rest assured, Archangel. I’ll do everything I can. Tomorrow evening, I’ll make an excuse to avoid others—you summon me anytime.”

Hearing her calm tone, Kroso realized she’d accepted the risk of losing her title. She was comforting *him*.

But he would never let that happen.

Watching the Hero leave, brow furrowed in thought, Sylvia shook her head with a sigh and returned to the interrupted alchemical formula.

Her hastily formed plan required a potion meeting three conditions: zero toxicity, zero sensation during effect, zero memory afterward.

Options were scarce.

Yet thanks to her sharp memory, she pinpointed a high-tier formula: *Sleeping Draught*.

As the name implied—it was slipped into drinks to knock targets out. Colorless. Tasteless. Fast-acting. Hard to detect.

But dosage changed everything:

*Small*: One hour. Waking feels like a brief lapse. No memory.

*Medium*: Ten hours. Mild fatigue upon waking (or none, depending on constitution). Total amnesia of the period.

*Large*: One full day. Waking brings temporary hallucinations—possibly of events during effect. *Use with extreme caution and confidentiality.*

Clear enough. Sylvia pondered.

Her private chamber aboard the royal airship had the strongest magical barriers. Once she summoned the Hero via Blink Rune, nothing inside would leak out.

Dosage…

It was only a high-tier potion. Too little might fail against the Hero’s resilience. She’d use medium.

Even if the ten hours shrank to thirty minutes—it’d be enough.

And if not… well, stronger measures existed.

A flush of heat suddenly raced through her body.

She didn’t know what she’d imagined—but tomorrow suddenly felt very, very close.