The next morning, everything returned to normal. After eating tofu pockets from the snack shop, Fate’s “strange illness” vanished overnight.
Looking back, he’d never shown such odd symptoms before. After much thought, he concluded it must’ve been a side effect of the kitsune blood boiling with excitement—a subtle shift deepening his identification with his kitsune nature, occasionally surfacing as fox-like habits.
Just recalling last night’s behavior sent shivers down his spine.
Was that really *him*??
He’d been fully conscious. His body was undeniably under his own control. Yet he felt like a completely different person.
Not a physical change—but a shift in perception, in cognition.
For now, most of his habits remained human.
That worried Fate. What if one day he could no longer suppress the kitsune blood within?
Would he still be *himself* then??
Dwelling on what hadn’t happened was paying a debt he didn’t owe. Fate shook it off quickly and returned to work.
After several uneventful days, Nia arrived at Dawnbreak Cathedral in casual clothes, seeking Fate.
She glanced around her master’s workplace. Learning his duty was merely gatekeeping, a pang of melancholy stirred in her chest.
Even retired, Master could’ve secured a dignified, well-paid post from the Empress. Why choose this backwater as a gatekeeper?
And guarding the very cathedral dedicated to *himself*, no less.
Unbelievable.
If the priests and nuns of Dawnbreak Cathedral knew the deity they prayed to was the gatekeeper right before them… what faces would they make?
Nia truly didn’t grasp the bond between Fate and Empress Beatrice. Yes, Fate had slain the Empress’s biological father—but the tyrant’s death brought universal relief. Beatrice never saw that life-disregarding monster as a loving father. Rumors even claimed she’d suffered abuse as a child.
Even with blood ties, wouldn’t she feel gratitude? Especially since, as Dawnbreak Knight-Captain, Fate had always earned her visible respect.
Had Fate known her thoughts, he’d have shaken his head helplessly—*still so naive*.
Beatrice was far shrewder than Nia imagined.
She knew human minds favored “guilt by association.” If the father was a cruel tyrant, the daughter must be tainted too. Meanwhile, the Dawnbreaker Knight’s image had been utterly *deified* in public eyes.
What did “deified” mean? To the masses, every act of the Dawnbreaker Knight was righteous and unquestionable—even slaying the tyrant was hailed as “great righteousness.”
Beatrice understood defying that narrative was foolish. Though the Dawnbreaker Knight was officially dead, his legacy remained untouchable. To secure her throne, she *had* to appear utterly unlike her tyrant father—portray herself as a victim, a soul coerced by cruelty.
The more rumors spread—like “the young Empress suffered abuse before the Dawnbreaker Knight’s arrival”—the more the public believed her innocence, even sympathized.
But from Fate’s view, people were complex. Nothing said a tyrant couldn’t be a decent father. When he plunged his sword into the tyrant’s chest, he’d felt Beatrice’s searing hatred—a clear sign their bond wasn’t broken.
He even suspected *she* fabricated those abuse rumors to legitimize her rule.
Nia didn’t know that when Fate prepared to leave the empire, Beatrice’s moves to strip him of power were nearly complete.
Had he not voluntarily relinquished authority at the last moment, their conflict would’ve erupted.
So Fate’s rule for their relationship was simple: *Never meet again.*
He couldn’t predict what form their next encounter might take.
Personally, he hoped never to cross swords with her.
Rationally? He wasn’t sure he could still match Beatrice—her power grew by leaps and bounds. Even if he barely won, what if she called the army?
Right now, self-defense was all he could manage. Against overwhelming force, survival wasn’t guaranteed.
For all these reasons, meeting Beatrice was unthinkable.
But Nia didn’t need to know. Adult matters. No reason to drag an uninvolved child in.
Fate knew why she’d come today—the task he’d entrusted her with likely had results.
Lounging lazily against the gate, he spotted Nia approaching. With a subtle gesture toward the courtyard behind him, he signaled: *Not safe to talk here.*
Nia paused, surprised. Master rarely acted this cautiously. But she followed without question.
“How’d it go?” Fate asked once they were alone.
“........Master… there’s good news and bad news. Which first?”
“Sounds like there’s no good news,” Fate said, reading her hesitant expression instantly.
“The good news: I contacted the military. They confirmed the male relatives of those afflicted families *had* enlisted.”
“And the bad?” Fate frowned as she fell silent.
“.........They checked every barracks roster. No records matched. Some names overlapped, but details didn’t align—none were the right relatives.” Nia hesitated. “So I pushed deeper. Still nothing… but they found where those men went.”
“According to battle logs and casualty reports… those names appeared on the fallen list from a battle two years ago........."
“What battle?” Fate asked after a beat.
“A… heretic uprising.”
“A *heretic uprising*??” Fate went quiet. “The empire’s been at peace since the last monarch fell. Where did this uprising come from??”
Nia pressed her lips tight and shook her head.
She couldn’t investigate further—this was the Empress’s secret mission. Pushing risked exposure. And every document query left a trace. If Beatrice checked… she’d know Nia had looked.
