This question caused even the usually calm and composed Sharon to show a strange expression. A faint blush seemed to flash across both her cheeks.
But before Sharon could say anything, Audrey closed her eyes and began mumbling drunkenly under her breath, repeatedly saying that she was drunk, while an intoxicated look appeared on her face.
Sharon stared blankly at Audrey, trying to figure out whether she was truly drunk or merely pretending, and whether she had only gotten drunk now or had already been drunk earlier.
In the end, Sharon did not answer the question. She simply watched in silence as Audrey and the other two left.
After getting into the carriage, Audrey turned sideways and lifted a corner of the curtain, her cheeks immediately turning bright red.
She had no idea why she had suddenly asked such a question. Fortunately, she had quickly pretended to be drunk, sparing both sides from too much embarrassment.
The only slight regret was that Miss Sharon had never answered her question in the end.
Late at night, Sharon did not return to the mirror tonight. Instead, she stood before the window like a puppet, silently pondering Audrey's question from earlier.
Meanwhile, Hastur took a bath and used his drunkenness tonight as an excuse to return to his room early.
He took out a pocket watch inlaid with an emerald and glanced at it. It was already eleven-thirty.
Only half an hour remained until midnight.
"There should be enough time."
Hastur lay on the bed and fell asleep. Entering the Hall of Stars, he gazed down at the stars for a while before descending once more into the Vessel of Stars.
During this period, he had already moved the Vessel of Stars out of the Forsaken Land of the Gods and brought it back to Loen, hiding it somewhere only he knew, ready to answer his summons at any moment.
A new year naturally ought to bring a new atmosphere.
Then it was also time for him to give Jevington II a grand New Year's gift.
...
Backlund.
Jevington II's new palace had already been completed, and tonight he was hosting a banquet here for the entire upper-class nobility of Loen.
The lights and dancing were far more extravagant and luxurious than anything during George III's lifetime.
Jevington II stood upon a raised platform, with powerful Beyonders of the Loen royal family beside him. Looking down at Loen's nobles and dignitaries below, he felt immensely satisfied and had someone fill his wineglass once again before draining it in one gulp.
During last year's New Year, he had still been one of those below, part of the crowd for others to admire. Now, he stood upon the elevated platform where only the king was entitled to stand, enjoying the supreme authority of all Loen.
The entire Kingdom of Loen moved according to his will, with the exception of the rather unruly Southville County and that Hastur Campbell.
Every time he thought of that young earl, it was as if a shadow fell over his heart. No matter how good his mood had originally been, he would immediately become worried and uneasy.
Back when Zaratul had divined the future for him, he had specifically warned him that he absolutely had to pay special attention to this person.
And the facts had indeed proven Zaratul's prophecy to be reliable.
He truly had never found any particularly good way to deal with Hastur Campbell, and now he even needed him to protect the safety of Southville County's coastline.
Jevington II grew irritated again. He had someone pour him another glass of wine, took a small sip, then left the platform and returned to his study. He planned to rest for a while before coming back out when midnight arrived to give a speech and bring tonight's New Year's banquet to an end.
Two powerful Beyonders of the Loen royal family remained close beside him at all times. Nearby were also three bishops from the Churches of the three gods, while William I's gaze was also upon him. The defenses were exceptionally formidable.
Jevington II did not believe any assassin could make it to him alive. He leaned back against the sofa cushions, closed his eyes, and rested for a moment.
Tonight, unusually, he had a dream.
Within the dream, he sat upon a throne watched by tens of thousands, surrounded by the nobles of the Kingdom of Loen and the archbishops of the Churches of the three gods.
He had successfully annexed the entire Feysac Empire and dispatched armies to continuously conquer the surrounding kingdoms. Even the Intis Republic had ultimately been defeated at his hands and submitted.
He had unified the entire Northern Continent and was preparing to construct vast numbers of warships so that he could conquer the Southern Continent through war in one fell swoop.
If he succeeded, he would become the greatest monarch of both the Northern and Southern Continents.
Even William I, the founder of the Kingdom of Loen, had never achieved anything as dazzling as this.
Jevington II swept his lofty gaze around the surroundings, only to see that irritating Hastur Campbell had also appeared in his dream.
A shadow immediately fell over his previously excellent mood.
But soon, the corners of his lips curled upward slightly. Since he was still unable to deal with Earl Hastur Campbell in the real world, then he would simply chop off his head in the dream world!
Once wouldn't be enough to vent his hatred. He would kill him ten times, a hundred times!
With a cold expression, he gave an order, and the surrounding soldiers immediately gathered around and dragged Earl Hastur Campbell out from among the nobles.
Someone knelt down and pleaded for Earl Hastur Campbell's life.
It was Earl Hall.
Seeing this, Jevington II sneered. Even in a dream, Earl Hall still insisted on protecting Earl Hastur Campbell. Their relationship truly was deep.
It seemed the rumors were indeed true. Earl Hall really intended to entrust his daughter, Backlund's most dazzling jewel, to Hastur.
"Executioner, step forward and execute Earl Hastur Campbell, this treacherous rebel, by death of a thousand cuts!" Jevington II ordered expressionlessly, then added, "Anyone who pleads for him will be executed alongside him!"
When the executioner appeared wielding a large sword and prepared to begin hacking away one cut at a time, Hastur, who had been restrained by the soldiers, suddenly erupted into action.
He snatched the sword from the executioner's hands and slaughtered every soldier around him.
Then, dragging the blood-dripping sword behind him, he climbed the steps one by one toward the platform where Jevington II stood.
Jevington II merely watched coldly. There were far more than mere soldiers at his side. There were also bishops from the Churches of the three gods and powerful Beyonders of the Loen royal family.
"Hastur Campbell, you truly are a traitor who brings chaos to our Kingdom of Loen. Even in a dream, you're still every bit as rebellious!"
Jevington II sneered and continued watching the battle ahead. He watched Hastur grow fiercer the longer he fought, blood staining the ground five steps, ten steps around him, until he was nearly about to slaughter his way directly over to him.
William I, who had gone into seclusion, suddenly appeared out of thin air, standing between Hastur and himself.
Jevington II bowed to William I, then retreated some distance.
The arrival of his ancestor, William I, was enough to suppress any rebellion.
Jevington II merely glanced at the battle before looking toward the upper echelons of the Churches of the three gods.
Heh. Even within a dream, those three deities still refused to help him.
Unfortunately, the Loen royal family had no True God of its own. Otherwise...
Jevington II stopped himself from thinking any further. It was best to avoid doing anything that might offend the gods as much as possible. He couldn't even allow his thoughts to run wild.
He withdrew his gaze and once again looked toward Hastur, who was locked in battle with William I. Gradually, astonishment appeared on his face.
Could it be that, deep within his subconscious, he actually believed Hastur could compare to his ancestor William I?
No, wait. Why was Hastur still alive? And why did it look like he was gradually gaining the upper hand and beating his ancestor William I?
Panic began to rise uncontrollably in his heart. Soon, William I, who had been forced back by Hastur, retreated to his side and urgently shouted at him to run.
He hesitated briefly before ultimately choosing to flee as quickly as possible.
Yet the suffocating sense of frustration in his heart only grew stronger. This was clearly his own dream, yet he could not become its master. Instead, Hastur was chasing him down relentlessly.
This feeling was absolutely terrible!
But he had no choice except to run, because he could see his ancestor William I in a miserable state, desperately holding Hastur back for his sake.
Even his ancestor was beginning to lose.
Only the gods could save him now.
Jevington II once again looked toward the upper echelons of the Churches of the three gods. Vaguely, he seemed to see three illusory, indistinct figures standing in midair, looking down upon everything from above.
Were those the Evernight Goddess, the Lord of Storms, and the God of Steam and Machinery?
Instinctively, he wanted to call upon the gods for help. But this was his dream. Was he truly willing to let the gods remain above him even within his own dream?
Jevington II gritted his teeth and ultimately chose not to bow his head to the gods.
He ran desperately, fleeing from the throne room into the palace corridors, then all the way to the rear garden.
Suddenly, he felt a chill behind him and couldn't help turning around to look. He saw Hastur, that murderous fiend, already catching up while holding the blood-dripping sword, getting closer and closer.
There was no way he could escape. He simply stopped, turned around, and faced the approaching Hastur head-on.
"I never expected that even in a dream, I would end up in such a miserable state." Jevington II's face was filled with unwillingness and resentment. Unfortunately, although his fists were tightly clenched, he possessed no strength with which to fight his enemy.
"When you chose to target me, you should've known that no matter what, you would never be able to escape this day."
"Heh. Don't you deserve to die? Do you dare say that the deaths of the three successive Grand Dukes of Southville had nothing to do with you?"
"They did indeed all die because of me." Hastur nodded.
"Heh. Then you deserve death all the more!"
Jevington II stood perfectly straight, intending to face death with as much of a king's dignity as possible.
This was only a dream. He did not want to die pathetically even within his own dream. Even if he died, he was still the King of the Kingdom of Loen!
"Unfortunately, in the end, you're the one who will die before me."
Hastur raised the blood-dripping sword high above his head and, under Jevington II's fearful and venomous gaze, brought it down heavily.
Thud, roll, roll.
Jevington II's head fell to the ground and rolled across the floor, trailing blood behind it. His eyes were wide open, his expression twisted, his face displaying extreme unwillingness even in death.
Hastur tossed away the sword, took out a piece of paper, and wiped his hands clean. His gaze never once turned toward the three illusory, indistinct figures in midair.
He simply left Jevington II's dream world.