The silence in the main hall of Vayne Castle felt more suffocating now than when Lord Bastian had been screaming in agony.
At the threshold of the wide-open double doors, Caspian Vayne stood like a statue carved from pure rage.
Sweat from his sword practice still slicked his temples, yet his amber-gold eyes showed no sign of exhaustion.
The air around the youth began to vibrate—a phenomenon that only occurred in the pure descendants of the Vayne bloodline: the Legacy Aura.
A faint gold light, like glowing embers caught in a night breeze, began to envelop his tall frame.
The atmospheric pressure in the room surged sharply, causing a flower vase at the corner of the table to crack slowly.
”I am asking you, Azura Vayne,” Caspian’s voice trembled, not from fear, but from the suppressed urge to strike.
“You…
were you the one who poisoned Father?”
Azura remained seated calmly in the massive chair that once belonged to the late Marquis.
She crossed her long legs, allowing her black mourning gown to part slightly, revealing just how fragile the physical body she now inhabited truly was.
However, her gaze was anything but fragile.
[Krrrkkk…
Glitch…]
[System: Whoaaa, Boss!
Look at that!
The visual effects are a solid 10/10!
That golden aura…
if we sold that on the black market, we could buy ten more castles.
But be careful, the testosterone levels in front of us are reaching a literal breaking point.
Should I call the fire department, or shall we just enjoy the view of this angry ‘young stud’?]
Shut up, Azura thought curtly.
She had no need for the system’s commentary at a time like this.
Azura stood up slowly.
Every movement was calculated with the precision of a predator.
She showed no signs of defense.
Instead, she walked directly toward Caspian.
Her shoes clicked against the marble floor—clack…
clack…—a rhythmic sound amidst the hissing of Caspian’s intensifying golden aura.
”You want an answer?” Azura asked, her voice soft yet carrying a cold authority.
”Answer me!
Or this blade will separate your head from your shoulders right now!” Caspian barked.
He swung his sword forward.
Sring!
The sharp tip of the blade stopped exactly one millimeter from Azura’s pale neck.
A bead of blood appeared.
A stark crimson contrast against her snow-white skin.
Clara, still huddled in the corner, let out a soft cry, covering her mouth with trembling hands.
She was certain that if Caspian lost control for even a second, the Marchioness’s head would roll across the floor.
But then, something insane happened.
Azura didn’t retreat.
Instead, she took a single step forward.
The skin of her neck pressed firmly against the edge of the blade, letting the small cut widen slowly.
She stared directly into Caspian’s amber eyes, so close that the boy could smell the scent of roses and ink radiating from her.
”Why stop?” Azura whispered.
“Your hand is shaking, Caspian.
A knight’s sword must never waver.
If you’re so certain I’m the killer, why haven’t you pushed it deeper?”
Caspian was stunned.
His pupils dilated.
He had never seen a gaze like this.
In Azura’s sea-blue eyes, there was no fear.
No plea for mercy.
There was only a darkness so profound it felt as though this woman had already died a thousand times before.
”Y-you…” Caspian stammered.
His golden aura began to falter, flickering like a lamp losing its power.
”Do you know why you can’t kill me?” Azura tilted her head slightly, a lopsided smirk playing on her lips.
“Because deep down in your heart, you know that pig Bastian is the culprit.
You just need an outlet because you feel you failed to protect your father.
You feel weak, and you hate yourself for it.”
”Shut up!
Don’t act like you know me!” Caspian roared, about to pull his sword back for a horizontal slash.
However, in a fraction of a millisecond, Azura’s Mafia instincts kicked in.
Before Caspian could even retract his arm, Azura moved faster.
She didn’t use magic.
She used her knowledge of human anatomy.
Azura’s left hand caught Caspian’s wrist, pressing a nerve point beneath his palm, while her right hand struck the youth’s elbow with a powerful, short thrust.
THUD!
The sword slipped from Caspian’s grasp, clattering loudly as it hit the marble floor.
Caspian gasped, his balance stripped away as Azura twisted his arm behind his back, pinning him until his face nearly kissed the floor.
[System: Clap…
Clap…
Clap!
Brutal grappling technique, Boss!
Efficiency score: 98%.
Look at that, our little lion now looks like a punished kitten.
Should I play some victory music?]
”Listen closely, boy,” Azura whispered directly into Caspian’s ear, which was flushed red from rage and humiliation.
“I don’t have time for teenage drama.
Your father is dead, and this territory is being besieged by vultures like your uncle.
If you want revenge, save your sword for the real enemy.
Don’t use it on me—unless you are truly prepared to die.”
Azura released her grip roughly.
Caspian sprawled forward, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He stared at his numb hand.
How was this possible?
Azura—the woman who used to faint at the mere sight of blood—had just disarmed him with a technique not even taught in the knight academy.
”Clara,” Azura called out without turning around.
”Y-yes, Marchioness?” Clara approached with hesitant steps.
”Call Leopold.
Tell him to be here in three minutes.
If he’s a second late, tell him he can start looking for a new job on the streets.”
Clara nodded frantically and ran out as if her life depended on it.
Silence reclaimed the room.
Caspian stood up slowly, picking up his sword.
His golden aura had vanished completely, replaced by overwhelming confusion.
He watched Azura, who was now wiping the bloodstain from her neck with her white handkerchief.
”Who are you, really?” Caspian asked lowly.
“You…
you aren’t the Azura I knew.”
Azura stopped wiping her neck.
She turned slowly, giving him a look that made the hair on Caspian’s arms stand up.
“The Azura you knew died with my husband.
The one standing before you now is the new ruler of the Vayne March.
And I suggest you start getting used to that.”
Just then, the doors opened again.
An elderly man in a meticulously neat black butler’s suit hurried in.
It was Leopold, the Head Butler.
His face was deathly pale, his eyes darting from Caspian’s unsheathed sword to the damaged table.
”You summoned me, Marchioness?” Leopold bowed so deeply his nose nearly touched the floor.
He could feel an unusual chill radiating from the young woman.
”The keys,” Azura said curtly, extending her hand.
Leopold flinched.
“You mean…
the warehouse keys?”
”Everything,” Azura cut him off.
“The main gate, the cellar, the Marquis’s private safe, and the armory.
Hand them over.
Now.”
Leopold broke into a cold sweat.
“But…
traditionally, those keys are held by Young Master Caspian as the heir—”
”Tradition?” Azura stepped closer to Leopold.
“Leopold, did you not see what happened to Lord Bastian earlier?
The traditions in this house changed five minutes ago.
Now, I make the rules.
The keys.
Give them to me.”
Leopold glanced at Caspian, seeking support.
But Caspian remained silent, still paralyzed by the mental intimidation he had just received.
Seeing no defense from the young master, Leopold reached into his pocket with trembling hands.
He pulled out a heavy silver chain holding dozens of heavy, ancient keys—the symbols of all access to life within Vayne Castle.
Azura took the keys.
The metallic jingle sounded like the music of victory in her ears.
She gripped them tightly, feeling the weight of the power that was now truly in her hands.
”Good,” Azura said.
“Now, Leopold, prepare a room for me.
The Marquis’s master suite.
Not that small room in the west wing where I lived before.”
”B-but that is the late Lord Marquis’s chamber…” Leopold tried to protest.
”It is my chamber now,” Azura cut him off with a tone of finalitas.
“And Caspian, clean yourself up.
The stench of your sweat is distracting me.
We will speak again tomorrow morning, and I hope by then you have a brain that is more useful than mere muscle.”
Azura walked past them both, heading toward the grand chair at the end of the hall.
She sat there, in the place that belonged to the leader of the territory.
With the silver keys in her lap and a small bloodstain on her neck, she looked like an empress who had just returned from a battlefield.
Caspian stared at Azura’s back, his hand clenched tight around his sword hilt.
He knew that from tonight on, his life would never be the same.
This woman he hated…
somehow, she had just taken over his world in a single night.
[System: Congratulations, Boss!
You have obtained a quest item: ‘Keys of Castle Authority’.
Bonus reward: 100 reputation points for ‘Madwoman’.
Want me to set off some fireworks inside your head?]
Shut your mouth, System.
The real game has only just begun.