Jack gestured toward the officer of the royal guards ."I'd like to have a private conversation with Her Highness."
The officer hesitated, unsure—until Seraphine gave a slight nod."You may leave," she said. "Tracy alone should suffice."
With a respectful bow, the officer stepped out, leaving behind only Tracy, Jack, Garren, and Seraphine.
Jack took a seat on the sofa while Garren stood silently behind him, his presence steady.
"I've been thinking about our earlier conversation," Jack began, voice low. "The number of missing Red Blades… matches the number of attackers. Your bold declaration about your imminent death, and how that would spell doom for the Duchy."
His eyes wandered around the room for a brief moment before locking back onto Seraphine.
"But they're just suspicions—fragments," he admitted. "I want to hear the truth. Like you said, I'd eventually come to believe you."His jaw tightened slightly as he finished,"And it seems… Your Highness was right."
Seraphine let out a soft chuckle."If only a certain someone hadn't been so suspicious," she said with a faint smirk, "we could've avoided all this meaningless charade. Might've even saved ourselves some precious time."
Jack gave a crooked smile in response."Better late than never."
Seraphine brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her tone light."Oh, that works too. As for my claim—that my death would spell your doom—I suppose that's not the case anymore."
Then, looking directly into his eyes, her voice dropped slightly."Surely you've heard the rumors, haven't you?"
Jack replied calmly, "Rumors are just that—rumors, Your Highness."
Seraphine's expression shifted, a touch more solemn."Do you know, Your Grace, a lie that spreads far and wide will always outshine the truth known by only a few."
She stood, her figure lit by the dull amber light seeping through the window.
"The King wants people to believe I'm dead. That's why the rumors spread. My arrival here—me coming to you—was a calculated move. I forced his hand. I made them act early."
Jack's gaze hardened."Enough with the wordplay, Your Highness. I want to know the truth—what you're scheming, and what role my people are meant to play in this game between you and the King."
Seraphine's expression shifted to one of mild disappointment.
"It seems you haven't figured it out yet. Let me be clear, then."
She took a step closer.
"To the King, I... and you, and your family—the Duke—are all thorns in his side. But as King, he cannot act without reason. He can't simply kill his own daughter or eliminate an ancient noble house. Not without justification."
A mocking grin flickered across her face.
"All of this—the charade, the rumors—are to create that justification. Think about it. The massacre eight years ago, the one you survived… the signs pointing toward the royal family and Count Caroline were almost too obvious. As if daring the Duke to retaliate."
Her tone darkened.
"If your father had acted then—if he had responded with force—they'd have had their excuse. They could've leveled the Duchy in the name of justice."
She paused, then looked Jack squarely in the eyes.
"And the rumors of my death? Do you know what they're saying about how I died in those stories?"
Jack's jaw tightened. Of course he knew—he'd heard the whispers in taverns, seen the flickers of suspicion in noble courts, and read between the lines of every carefully worded report.
Seraphine, however, wasn't done.
"They say I was attacked in my chambers," she went on, her tone deceptively light, as if recounting a bedtime tale. "Assailants dressed in red armor slit my throat while I slept. No witnesses. Just blood and silence."
She let that linger before adding, her smile sharp as broken glass,"They say it happened because I wounded the pride of a young noble… by refusing his marriage proposal."
She gave a quiet chuckle—silk wrapping steel."Quite the fantasy, isn't it?"
Then she turned her gaze to the two seated across from her.
"Now, let's play a little guessing game," she said, tilting her head. "Who might those assailants in red armor be? And who," her eyes flicked deliberately to Jack, "might be that young noble with wounded pride?"
Her gaze lingered on the contrast between the two figures before her—Garren in his worn red armor, marked by the unmistakable insignia of the Red Blades… and Jack, seated just in front of him, young and noble, fire still burning in his veins.
A silence stretched between them, taut as a drawn bowstring.
Seraphine's voice dropped, almost a whisper."Tell me, Jack… if you were a commoner hearing that tale, would you believe in coincidence?"
Jack fell silent, digesting the weight of her words. The room was heavy with unspoken truths, until another voice broke the tension.
"What if you returned to the capital, Your Highness?" Garren asked, a flicker of hope threading his voice.
Seraphine turned to him, her eyes soft with something like pity. She sighed.
"You see, they've already spread false news of my death. If I were to return now, it would only make their task easier. They would no longer need to fabricate a tragedy—I'd be delivering myself to them on a silver platter."
Garren's shoulders stiffened. "You said 'Duke's protection'... does the Duke know about all of this?"
Jack, now watching closely, added, "Of course he does. That's why he sent five hundred of his most elite soldiers here, isn't it?"
Garren fell quiet.
Jack leaned back on the sofa, one arm slung over the side, eyes trailing the high ceiling. "So… what happens next?"
Seraphine gave a faint smile, not out of joy, but understanding. "You know all too well what comes next, Your Grace."
Jack let out a breath and looked at her again, more solemn now.
"Your Highness, you've clearly known all of this for a while. Yet you still came here—of your own will. Why?"
Seraphine's tone didn't change. Calm. Even. Almost detached.
"Like I said, I came to force the king's hand—to trigger his plans before they were ready. I needed to create a disruption in the timing, shift the pace. The Duke and I agreed on this before I ever set foot in Greenriver Manor."
Her gaze drifted to the window, where the last slivers of sunlight clung to the horizon.
"My arrival was the bait," she said softly. "And the chaos that followed... was the signal."
She turned her back to Jack.
"I needed to buy the Duke time," Seraphine said, her voice low but steady. "Time to prepare for what's coming."
Jack leaned back on the sofa, his eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling, as if hoping the patterns would offer clarity."I understand why the King would want you gone," he said slowly, "but why are we—my family—a thorn in his side? The House of Ignis has been loyal to the crown for generations. What don't I see?"
Seraphine didn't look at him. Instead, she folded her hands neatly in her lap, eyes fixed ahead.
"There are many reasons," she began, calm but sharp. "Your family is the only Duchy in the entire kingdom. You hold more land than most of the other noble houses combined. After the royal family, you're the most powerful—and the most independent."
She turned slightly toward him, her tone tightening.
"You see, your father's frequent disputes with the King and his ministers—about taxes, military funding, court policies—they don't go unnoticed. The House of Ignis sits in the royal court, and many reforms, tax levies, and decrees have been either altered or outright dismissed... thanks to your family's 'advice.'"
Jack clenched his jaw, but said nothing.
Seraphine continued, her voice softening with a memory.
"When I was younger, I wasn't given the same education as my brothers. No history, no politics—just the usual refinements expected of a princess. But I had an older stepbrother. The eldest. He received the full education befitting a future king... and he adored me."
A faint smile ghosted her lips.
"He used to sneak into my room late at night, telling me tales of heroes and ancient empires. Stories of powerful warriors who changed the world not with words—but with strength alone. And one name, one family name, kept returning in those stories: Ignis."
Jack looked up sharply, but Seraphine kept speaking.
"Even though your house has long since fallen from imperial glory, history remembers. Your bloodline still commands respect... and fear. Every king who has ever sat on the throne has been taught to do both when it comes to House Ignis."
She finally turned to meet his gaze.
"That's why he wants you gone, Jack. Not because of anything you've done—but because of what you could do. To him, you're a beast in chains—silent, docile, but still a beast. And beasts, no matter how tame they appear, unsettle the hearts of weak men."
She leaned back, her voice a whisper now.
"The only peace they know is the kind that comes when the beast is dead."