Jack sat slouched on an overly comfortable sofa, a low table before him lined with plates of pastries and various other sweets. Just a meter away stood his personal maid—a young woman with short blond hair—quiet and attentive. She had served him since childhood, and Jack trusted her more than most.
His mind, however, was elsewhere. He was still trying to piece together how to approach Seraphine. How could he steer their conversation to extract the truth he needed? He wasn't skilled in the art of political games. Subtle manipulation, layered conversations, and coercion through words—these were tools he hadn't yet mastered. All he could manage was indirect probing.
The door creaked open.
Seraphine stepped inside. Upon seeing Jack alone with only the maid, she gestured for her guards to remain outside. Only her knight, Tracy, followed her in.
Jack stood up to greet the princess.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness," he said with a curt bow.
"Good afternoon to you too, Count," Seraphine replied, returning the bow.
They sat across from each other. The maid poured tea into two porcelain cups, and the aroma of spices filled the air. Both took a polite sip as a casual conversation began.
But just as Jack was about to steer the discussion toward his goal, Seraphine interrupted.
"I've prepared something for you, Your Grace," she said calmly.
Tracy pulled out a bundle of documents from a leather pouch tied to her waist and handed them to Seraphine. With a composed smile, the princess placed them before Jack.
"Please. Read them carefully," she said.
Jack raised an eyebrow. His gaze scanned the stack warily before picking it up and reading, word by word.
Seraphine sipped her tea, waiting in silence.
As Jack read, a deep frown appeared on his face. His fingers tightened around the paper with every passing line. Then, without warning, he slammed the documents on the table with a loud thud. A low growl escaped his throat as he struggled to keep himself composed.
"What's the meaning of this, Princess?" he said, his eyes locked onto hers, scanning every expression, every twitch.
Seraphine didn't flinch. As if expecting his reaction, she calmly replied, "It's as you see. Those documents contain all the information I've gathered on the night your mother, the late Duchess, met her end."
She met Jack's intense stare without a hint of fear. Her tone remained composed, deliberate.
"You see, the real objective of that attack wasn't just chaos—it was to capture you, dead or alive. You were the only remaining blood of Ignis besides the Duke. If they had succeeded, they could've forced your father to surrender his power… or they might've simply killed you."
She placed her cup down and continued.
"You may not know this, but the Duke and Duchess struggled to have children. Your mother faced several miscarriages. You were their miracle, a blessing to the Ignis family… and a threat to others. Without you, the lineage would've faltered. The power of House Ignis would've dwindled. A bloodline succession crisis would've forced them to either adopt an outsider or fade into irrelevance. But your birth changed everything. That, Your Grace, is why."
Jack's jaw tightened. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So, according to you, the reason assassins infiltrated the castle… the reason for the massacre… the reason my mother had to die… was because I was born?" he said, voice low, each word dripping with rage.
He stood now, fists clenched, eyes burning.
"And these documents? They prove the royal family's hand behind the attack. So tell me, are you here to finish the job your father couldn't?"
Seraphine chuckled lightly at his words.
"Haha… Before you get carried away, let's make something clear. That man's blood may run through my veins, yes—but he is not my father. To me, he's nothing but a cruel executioner."
She leaned back in her seat, her voice dropping to a somber tone.
"And here's something interesting, Your Grace… I will die in this castle—within a month."
Jack and Seraphine were locked in an intense stare-down. Neither blinked, neither moved. The tension between them was so thick it clung to the skin like fog before a storm.
Standing nearby, both Tracy and Jack's maid wore panicked expressions. They shouldn't have been present for this conversation—especially the maid.
Her short blond hair clung to her skin, damp with sweat. A bead trickled down her forehead. The memories of the massacre still haunted her—she had only been fifteen when it happened. She could feel Jack's fury rising with each word he spoke, but standing so close to him, she noticed something else—a subtle shift in the air around him.
It was getting hotter.
Slowly. Surely.
Tracy noticed it too, but unlike the maid, she was a knight. A seasoned warrior who had seen her share of battles. She knew exactly what this meant.
The boy was on the verge of losing control.
Her fingers slid closer to the hilt of her sword. She remained calm, her body still, but her senses sharp. Her eyes never left Jack.
Meanwhile, Jack and Seraphine continued to stare each other down, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of the storm they were summoning.
Finally, Jack spoke.
"And why should I believe you, Your Highness?" he asked, his voice cold, sharp. "Surely, you don't expect me to accept everything you've said as truth. And why should I care whether you live or die?"
He stepped forward, his gaze dark and unflinching.
"You're part of the bloodline I've longed to eradicate the most."
Seraphine smirked.
Her smile was unshaken, fearless.
"You'll believe me eventually—whether you want to or not," she said, calmly taking another sip of tea. "And as for my death…"
She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with something deeper, more dangerous.
"Let me tell you a secret: if I die… your family, this duchy—and you—will die with me."
"Is that a threat, Your Highness?" Jack asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face.
Seraphine met his gaze with unshaken calm.
"No," she said softly, placing the now-empty porcelain teacup on the table with a faint clink. "Not a threat, but a warning… Your Grace."
Her voice carried no malice—only certainty. As if she were stating a fact, not delivering an ultimatum.
She stood up slowly, her every movement poised and deliberate.
"Let us continue this another time," she added, brushing down the front of her gown. "Perhaps by then… you will be able to think more clearly."
With that, Seraphine turned her back to him.
Tracy gave Jack one last, unreadable glance—hand still close to her sword—before silently falling in behind her princess.
The heavy wooden door closed behind them with a soft but final thud.
The porcelain cup beside him cracked under the weight of his grip—tiny fractures webbing across its surface like creeping roots. He didn't even notice.
His gaze was still fixed on the documents sprawled before him.
"If I die, your family, this Duchy… and you… will die with me."
Her words echoed like a curse.
__
The heavy doors of the drawing room closed with a thud behind them.
For a moment, neither Seraphine nor Tracy spoke. Their footsteps echoed through the long corridor of Greenriver Manor, lined with portraits of Ignis nobility and tall, arched windows that filtered in pale afternoon light.
Only when they were far enough from the guards, the tea, and Jack's fiery glare did Tracy speak.
"You provoked him."
Her tone wasn't accusing—more like stating a fact. A cold observation, as knights are trained to make.
Seraphine didn't slow her stride. Her heels clicked against the marble floor like a ticking clock. "He needed to be provoked."
Tracy narrowed her eyes. "He's a mage of great talent. The mana in the room resonated with his anger. If I hadn't been shielding you, you wouldn't have been able to remain calm."
Seraphine finally stopped, turning to look at her knight. Her face was composed, but her voice lowered—iron beneath silk.
"Then it's good you were in the room, isn't it?"
Tracy exhaled through her nose, her fists clenched behind her back. "He's not ready. His emotions—"
"His emotions are the key," Seraphine interrupted. "The fire in him isn't just magic, Tracy. It's trauma, fury, purpose. If he can control that... maybe, just maybe, I'll finally be able to break free. I've taken a great gamble by coming here. His readiness no longer matters."
Tracy didn't speak. She knew Seraphine wasn't finished.
Sure enough, the princess stepped closer, her eyes reflecting the golden light of the hallway.
"Let me be clear. If I die, it won't just be his family that crumbles—it'll be this whole region. The enemies at our gates don't care if the blood is royal or common. They'll burn it all."
She turned and resumed walking. Tracy followed without another word.
After a long silence, Tracy muttered, "You shouldn't have told him about your death."
"I had to," Seraphine replied without missing a beat.
"Because it's true?"
"No," Seraphine said softly. "Because he needed to hear it."