Daniel fell into step beside his grand-uncle, the two of them walking in silence through the corridor.
After a few paces, Archford reached into his coat and withdrew a small red velvet pouch. Without a word, he handed it to Daniel.
Daniel glanced at him, then opened the pouch.
His eyes widened.
Inside was a tiny glass vial filled with shimmering red powder.
'Red Moon poison.'
'But how...?'
He looked up, his gaze sharp with questions.
"Your dead servant," Archford said simply.
Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose, confusion tightening his brow. Obviously waiting for an explanation.
Archford continued, his voice low.
"I found it among his belongings."
He paused, eyes drifting toward the sprawling garden maze.
"It's not every day a body turns up near the palace. I needed to know who he was. And this..."
He gestured toward the pouch.
"This raises more questions than it answers. Why would a lowly servant be carrying something like that?"
He turned to face Daniel fully, his tone grave.
"You must be careful, Grand-Nephew. Be discerning. Don't leap to conclusions. Sometimes, what we believe to be the truth is nothing more than a well-dressed lie. And by the time we realize it..."
He let the sentence hang.
"...it may already be too late."
He placed a firm hand on Daniel's shoulder.
"Good luck, son. You'll need it—especially with your bridal selection. Keep in mind there are more wolves in sheep's clothing than there are sheep. And this event will reveal them. Be alert."
With that, he turned and walked back toward the palace, his footsteps fading into the marble silence.
Daniel remained, staring out at the garden maze.
For the first time in his life, he felt like he was in the maze—every path a dead end, every answer tangled in thorns.
This new revelation had shaken him.
He no longer knew what was truth or deception.
And he hated it.
But one thing was certain: he would find the truth.
No matter what it cost.
With that resolve burning in his chest, Daniel turned and made his way back into the palace, heading straight for his study.
...
"Ha. Ha. Ha."
The Queen Dowager laughed heartily, eyes gleaming as she watched the video clip on her tablet. Ariel was feeding Daniel a piece of rice cake, scolding him for trying to critique the food before tasting it.
She laughed even harder when the video showed them leaning in for a kiss—only to be interrupted by Ariel's phone buzzing at the last second.
"Ha! I knew it!" she gasped between chuckles.
"I knew that girl was perfect for my Daniel. Look at him—falling for her like a love-struck puppy. She'll make a wonderful queen. Aaaah, I can already see little Daniels running around the palace, causing trouble, and I'll be the one scolding and spoiling them to my heart's content."
Across from her, Archford lounged in a velvet chair, swirling a glass of whisky.
"You're already daydreaming about great-grandchildren, and the girl hasn't even been crowned yet," he snickered.
"Don't you think it's a bit early? We still don't know what happened to her during her... resurrection. Or what she's planning. What if this all blows up in our faces? Aren't you the least bit concerned?"
Alicia sighed, unbothered.
"Are you suggesting I'm a poor judge of character, Archford? That's disappointing. I thought you knew me better."
She leaned back, her voice turning cool and deliberate.
"Besides, it's obvious she orchestrated that article of the scandal. I love the way she plays in the shadows but pretends to be innocent in the light. Like a pure angel. She is devious, cunning, ruthless and bold a perfect combination for Daniel and his dark world
that surrounds him. She'll crush those venomous snakes. And that's what we want, isn't it? We all have the same goal. That's what matters."
Archford set his glass down and leaned forward, his tone shifting.
"I found a vial of Red Moon poison among the dead servant's belongings."
He paused.
"According to intel, that servant confessed to Daniel. Said he saw Ariel sneaking into a restroom cubicle with a gun holster the night of the masquerade ball—when someone broke into the Royal Archives."
He met Alicia's gaze.
"Now he's dead. No signs of foul play. Strange, isn't it?"
Alicia was quiet for a moment, her fingers tapping the armrest.
"So what are you saying? That she killed him and planted the evidence?"
Archford exhaled slowly.
"I don't know... not yet. But I believe we're going to find out soon."
Just then, Alicia's phone buzzed with a news alert.
She glanced at Archford, then tapped the screen.
"Good afternoon, viewers. Welcome to this special news bulletin."
The anchor's voice was calm, but the words that followed were anything but.
"Earlier today, the body of one of the infamous Twin Wolves—known for a string of brutal crimes including murder, robbery, and rape—was discovered near the intersection dumpsite in the Drasky ghetto suburb, close to their suspected gang hideout. The victim had a single bullet wound to the back of the head, suggesting an execution-style killing."
"In a shocking development, authorities have also confirmed the death of his twin brother—the other half of the notorious duo. He had been hiding in plain sight within the palace, posing as a royal servant. His body was found in the palace gardens, concealed in the bushes. Preliminary reports suggest he fell from a significant height, breaking his neck in the process."
The screen went dark.
Archford and Alicia sat in silence, eyes locked.
"I suppose we have our answer," Archford said quietly.
A long pause.
Then—
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha."
Alicia burst into laughter, her eyes gleaming with something between pride and awe.
Archford blinked, confused.
"She really is ruthless," Alicia said, still chuckling.
Archford's brow furrowed—until the pieces clicked into place.
Realization dawned.
A slow smile crept across his face.
"Well, I'll be damned," he murmured.
"My dear grand-nephew... looks like you're not courting a wolf after all. You're courting a dragon in the form of a phoenix. And I, for one, can't wait for the show."
....
Meanwhile
"The body was found with a bullet wound to the back of the head—an execution-style killing. Authorities also confirmed the death of his twin brother, who had been hiding in the palace disguised as a royal servant. His body was discovered in the palace gardens, concealed in the bushes. Preliminary reports suggest he fell from a significant height and broke his neck on impact."
The broadcast played on Daniel's tablet, the screen casting a cold glow across his face.
Blake stood beside him in silence.
Daniel watched, expression unreadable. His fingers slowly turned the vial of Red Moon poison in his hand, the crimson powder catching the light like embers.
"Unfortunately... it's true," Blake muttered.
"He was a criminal from the slums. Hiding in the palace because the police were closing in—and other gangs too. A professional thief. My hunch? He's the one who broke into the Royal Archives. Sent by the Sect. Their inside man. He's the one who received the poison."
Blake bowed his head, shame thick in his voice.
"Forgive me, my Prince. I failed you. I should've seen it. I let him slip past me. I accept whatever punishment you see fit."
Daniel said nothing.
He didn't even blink.
His eyes remained locked on the screen.
And in his mind, a voice echoed:
"You need to be careful, Grand-Nephew. Be discerning. Don't jump to conclusions. Sometimes what we believe is the truth... is a lie. And by the time we realize it, it may be too late. But I trust you'll find a way to set things right."
Blake glanced up, searching Daniel's face for a reaction.
Nothing.
Just that same, unnerving stillness.
Then—
A soft sigh.
"What's the name of the organization helping the vendors?" Daniel asked, voice low and measured.
Blake swallowed hard.
The air had shifted.
The tension was thick—suffocating. Like standing in the eye of a storm, knowing the winds could return at any second.
"The... Phantom Rose Agency," he answered carefully.
Daniel's lips curled into a bitter smirk.
"Mmm... Phantom Rose. Phantom Eagles. Why the fuck are they all phantoms, huh?"
He twirled the vial again.
"I fucking hate ghosts. Did you know that, Blake? That I hate ghosts?"
Blake didn't move.
Didn't speak.
He knew better.
It was a trap.
One wrong word, and the beast would awaken.
The silence stretched.
The pressure in the room grew unbearable—like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
"Looks like the great White Tiger is just a big fucking pussy after all," Daniel muttered coldly.
"Choosing silence over a fight. Well... at least you're not as stupid as you used to be. You know me now. Better than anyone else."
Just then, his tablet buzzed.
A new message.
A video.
He tapped it open.
It was surveillance footage—from his own study.
The moment the servant had entered the room.
Daniel leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
The servant walked in, head bowed, and moved to the desk. He began wiping it down, slow and methodical.
Minutes passed.
Then he walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and opened it.
He stood there for a moment.
Then—suddenly—he jerked, hand flying to the side of his neck as if something had bitten him.
He staggered.
And then—he fell.
Out the window.
Daniel replayed the moment in slow motion.
There it was.
That quick, instinctive touch to the neck.
His mind flashed back to the black rash he'd seen on the corpse.
"What kind of fool cleans in the dark?" Blake muttered beside him.
"Doesn't make sense. Why not open the curtains before cleaning?"
Daniel didn't respond.
He was watching the footage again.
The servant had kept his back to the camera the entire time.
He knew it was there.
Suddenly, Daniel stood—abruptly enough to make Blake flinch.
He moved to the desk, scanning it with sharp eyes. He ran his fingers across the surface, crouched beneath it, checked every corner.
Nothing.
He turned to the other side—the area the servant had wiped so carefully—and examined it again.
Still nothing.
"What are you looking for, Your Highness? Maybe I can help," Blake offered.
Daniel didn't answer.
He wasn't even sure what he was looking for.
But something wasn't right.
The servant had been deliberate. Intentional. Avoiding the camera. Wiping the desk like it mattered.
Why?
Daniel shook his head and turned to return to his seat.
Then he paused.
Where his hand had rested moments ago—there was a faint patch of white.
Almost invisible.
He leaned in.
"Blake. Close the curtains."
Blake blinked.
"Your Highness?"
"Now."
Blake obeyed.
As the room darkened, the patch began to glow.
Faint. Ghostly.
Three words shimmered into view, written in tiny, glowing letters:
'Today, Three o'clock.'
Daniel stared at the glowing message on the desk.
'Today, Three o'clock.'
He pondered the words, then spoke softly.
"Blake..."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Open the curtains. Stand at the window."
Blake obeyed, drawing the curtains aside and stepping into the light.
"Now... move slightly to the right. Stand at the middle window."
Blake shifted positions, still confused.
"Now turn your head slightly to the right. Three o'clock position."
Blake blinked. 'Is this the punishment he want to give me?' he wondered. 'Whatever. If it calms the beast...then what hell.'
He turned his head to the right until it was at a three o'clock position.
However he quickly turned it further as he felt a small gush pass through his face and slightly scratching his lower part of the cheek.
"Aaah! What the fuck was that?!" he yelped, stumbling back. He clutched his face, fingers brushing a shallow scratch. A thin line of blood appeared.
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
"What is it? What happened?"
Blake shook his head, dazed.
"I... I don't know. It was—"
His words slurred.
His tongue felt heavy.
His knees buckled.
"Oh... fu...ck..." he gasped, collapsing.
Daniel caught him just in time.
"Blake! Blake!"
He touched his skin, it was burning hot.
Blake's breath was shallow. His eyes fluttered.
"Fuck it! Damn it, Blake!"
The door burst open. Royal guards stormed in.
"Your Highness! We heard shouting—"
"Take him to the Royal Infirmary. Now!" Daniel barked.
The guards sprang into action, lifting Blake and rushing him out.
"Sam!" Daniel roared.
Sam appeared instantly.
"Yes, Your Highness!"
"Seal this room. I want specialists to sweep every inch and examine every speck of dust. And get a team to search the trees outside my study. Look for devices attached to them. Anything. Now."
"Yes, Your Highness!" Sam saluted and vanished down the corridor.
Daniel turned.
"Wisp!"
A dragonfly shimmered into view, emerging from the shadows.
"Your Highness."
"Summon the shadow demons. Tell them to scour the abyss—every corner. I want to know what poison did this to Blake. And I want the antidote. Now."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And tell your friends to be on standby. We're going hunting today. And Wisp..."
He stepped closer, voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
"If you fail me... I'll vaporize you myself."
Wisp gulped.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Then he vanished into the shadows.
Daniel stood alone, the vial of Red Moon poison still in his hand.
His eyes burned crimson.
His fury—unleashed.
'Whoever you are... I'm going to show you who the real boss is in this game. And I won't stop until I tear you limb from limb. Just wait. Just fucking wait.'
He turned toward the royal infirmary wing, his footsteps echoing like war drums.
If anything happened to Blake—
His only friend.
There would be no mercy.