“Hmm… Don’t worry. I’m just going for fun. It’s not like I’ll definitely get chosen anyway.”

Morningstar brushed off Leticia’s concern with a casual laugh. As for the Ice Queen draining people dry?

Pfft. Morningstar wasn’t scared in the slightest. She was the Dark Witch—who drained whom was still up for debate.

She wasn’t worried about the rumor. Just curious: why would an emotionless machine turn into a “juicer”?

Truth was simple…

Long ago, the Ice Queen created a secret technique. To produce stronger heirs, after marriage, she’d relentlessly drain her partner day and night, extracting every drop of their life essence.

That essence held the partner’s full power. During the process, they’d be utterly drained, lose all strength, and eventually perish from exhaustion.

That’s why no queen ever had a father—and why the throne passed only through queens. Offspring born of this magic had to be female, so the ritual could repeat on their wedding day.

Cruel to the partners, yes—but each generation of queens grew stronger than the last.

Yet this caused a problem: recent Ice Queens struggled to find suitors. Though a Frost Empire secret, whispers spread. Every chosen king met an untimely end. Suspicion was inevitable.

Powerful factions pieced together fragments. They coveted the Ice Queen’s beauty and wealth… but valued survival more.

So heirs from major houses avoided the summons. Those who came were weaker—and failed the final trial.

“I heard your nation also holds a relic of the Dark Sorceress?”

“Mm. A necklace. To contain its malignant aura, a past king sealed it within ice forged over ten thousand years. Only the queen can lift the seal.”

Leticia shared it freely—it wasn’t a secret worth hiding.

“Hmm.” This only sharpened Morningstar’s resolve to reach the queen.

She’d planned to use Leticia’s family for an introduction. Now? Unnecessary. The girl’s usefulness was nearly spent.

“Up ahead is Frostfall City, the empire’s second-largest metropolis. Pass through, and the capital lies just beyond.”

“Mm.” The beast-drawn carriage moved swiftly. Vast as the Frost Empire was, they neared the capital within days.

Entering the city, bizarre machinery lined the streets—giving Morningstar cyberpunk déjà vu. Vehicle-like transports, dazzling neon signs, citizens with gleaming mechanical prosthetics…

Per Selina’s memories, Frost Empire thrived on magic-crystal tech, mana-powered machinery humming everywhere.

Under the queen’s rule, efficiency reigned—technology outpaced all neighboring realms.

Orderly. Advanced. But surface-deep. Through her Demon Eye, Morningstar saw the truth: every citizen’s heart churned with suppressed darkness.

People like this? A Dark Sorceress’s whisper could unravel everything.

“Your Highness!?” Leticia’s gasp snapped Morningstar from her thoughts. She turned to find Leticia frozen before a public notice board at the gate.

“What is it?” Morningstar glanced up. The boldest notice declared: *Princess executed for colluding with a heretical cult.* Below hung an oil painting of her “death.”

“How… could this be?” Leticia clenched her fists, careful not to show grief. Patrol squads watching meant trouble.

“A princess sentenced to death just for cult ties?”

“Yes. National law spares no one. Her Majesty… shows not an ounce of mercy. Not even to her own sister.”

The princess was beloved by soldiers—visiting camps, smiling warmly. Royal duty or not, they adored her lively charm. That’s why Leticia’s heart ached.

“How cold. But if cult ties mean death… half this city should be dead already.”

Morningstar’s Demon Eye swept the crowd. Cultists lurked everywhere. Nearby, one spoke with a girl who looked eerily like the “deceased” princess.

“…Wait. No way?”

Her gaze snapped back. Long ice-blue hair. Ice-mage aura. Too coincidental.

“Better listen in.”

“Your Highness, I thought you were already dead,” the cultist murmured, voice laced with mockery.

The princess’s eyes flashed. “All because of you, you abomination!”

Loyalists had tampered with the execution—the ice shard missed true death. They smuggled her out.

Later, she reunited with this very cultist.

“Your Highness, no need for such anger.”

“Cut the chatter. Did you find it?”

“Please, grant me time! My master’s vaults hold countless treasures. What you seek is rare—it takes time!”

“Do you even have it? Because of you, I’m a wanted criminal. If you fail me again…”

Frost bloomed across the room. A chilling aura radiated from the princess.

The cultist remained calm. “Your Highness… given the circumstances, you must trust me. For your queen. Your sister. Your people…”

The princess’s frost softened slightly. “One more month. Fail me again, and our deal ends.”

“Rest assured, Your Highness. I’ll deliver.” The cultist’s smile tightened. “But… can *you* fulfill *my* request? A wanted criminal… can you truly reach the Dark Sorceress’s relic now?”