The winter sunlight filtered through the gaps of the deep blue velvet curtains in the Marquis of Vayne’s master suite.
This room was nearly three times the size of the safehouse apartment Azura had occupied in her previous world.
Yet, instead of feeling comfort, Azura woke with her hand instinctively reaching under her pillow, searching for the cold, familiar weight of a Beretta 9mm that was usually tucked there.
Empty.
Only the softness of silk greeted her fingertips.
Azura let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling adorned with fresco paintings depicting the Vayne family’s wartime glories.
Her neck throbbed slightly—the small wound from Caspian’s blade yesterday had dried, leaving an itchy sensation that reminded her this body was still far too fragile.
[Krrrkk…
Glitch…
Beep!]
[System: Good morning, my bloodthirstiest Boss!
How does it feel waking up in the plush bed of a late husband who ‘allegedly’ died under mysterious circumstances?
Comfort score: 10/10.
Safety score: 0.5/10.
Oh, look!
We have a guest bearing morning gifts!]
Before Azura could retort to the system’s mockery, a soft knock sounded at the double doors of her chamber.
Three rhythmic taps—polite, yet carrying an undertone of urgency.
”Come in,” Azura said curtly.
Her voice was still raspy from sleep, but its edge remained sharp.
The door opened, revealing a young maid in a meticulously neat black-and-white uniform.
The girl’s name was Hilda.
She had a round, innocent face with freckles on her cheeks, and her eyes were respectfully cast downward.
She carried a silver tray holding a porcelain teapot and two pieces of butter biscuits.
”Good morning, Marchioness.
I have brought warm Earl Grey tea to refresh your morning,” Hilda said, her voice trembling slightly.
She placed the tray on the bedside table.
Azura sat back against a stack of pillows.
Her sea-blue eyes scrutinized Hilda, as if dissecting the maid’s very skin.
“Where is Clara?
She usually handles my needs.”
Hilda flinched, her hand faltering for a second as she poured the tea.
“Clara…
she is assisting in the main kitchen, Your Grace.
Therefore, I was ordered to serve you.”
Azura remained silent.
She watched the thin wisp of steam rising from the porcelain cup.
It smelled fragrant—a strong scent of bergamot—but beneath that aroma, her senses, trained for over a decade in the underworld, caught something foreign.
The faint, bitter scent of almonds.
[System: Ding-Dong!
First jackpot of the day!]
[System: Foreign substance detected.
Analyzing…
Processing…
Glitch!
Detected: High-concentration Cyanide.
Side effects: Shortness of breath, ‘aesthetic’ convulsions, and a one-way ticket to the afterlife in three minutes.
Shall I order a 50% off coffin from Other-World-Shopee, or shall we issue a ‘Refund’ to the sender?]
Azura’s eyes narrowed.
Instantly, her world seemed to slow down.
That bitter almond scent wasn’t just a smell to her; it was a trauma trigger.
Flashback: The Last Night in the Mafia World.
Azura sat in her seat of power, surrounded by her organization’s generals.
They were celebrating a massive victory.
Her right-hand man, the person she trusted most, handed her a glass of the finest red wine.
Azura drank it, and in the next second, her throat felt like it was being scorched by hellfire.
She died staring at the betrayal in the eyes of the man she considered a brother, while her mansion was blown to ashes.
That pain…
that desperate thirst for oxygen…
she felt it again just from the scent of this tea.
A cold fury began to creep through her veins.
”Hilda,” Azura called out, her voice now soft as silk but cold as arctic ice.
”Y-yes, Your Grace?” Hilda swallowed hard, her face turning pale.
”This tea…
the aroma is exquisite.
Who brewed it?”
”The Head Chef himself, Your Grace.
He said these are the finest tea leaves from the southern region.”
Azura smiled.
A smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
She picked up the teacup, swirling it slowly, letting the silver spoon clink against the porcelain in the silent room.
She stood up, walking slowly toward Hilda, who began to tremble violently.
”I feel very grateful this morning, Hilda.
You know, in my homeland, there is a unique tradition.
If a servant works so hard as to bring tea this early, the master must share that happiness with them.”
Azura extended the cup toward Hilda’s face.
“Drink it.
Consider it a gift from me.”
Hilda’s knees went weak.
She took a step back, bumping into the edge of the table.
“B-but…
I am not worthy, Your Grace.
That tea is for you…”
”I insist,” Azura stepped forward again, pinning Hilda in place.
She placed one hand on the maid’s shoulder, gripping it with strength that defied the body of a 17-year-old girl.
“Why do you refuse?
Are you afraid the tea is too delicious for you?
Or are you afraid it will make you sleep forever?”
Hilda began to sob.
Tears of terror streamed down her cheeks.
“I…
I didn’t mean to…
I was forced!”
”Forced by whom?
Uncle Bastian?” Azura brought the cup closer to Hilda’s tightly shut lips.
“Come, open your mouth.
Let’s see how loyal you are to your old master.”
”NOOO!” Hilda shrieked and tried to swat the cup away, but Azura had already pulled it back.
A bit of the tea spilled onto the marble floor, and within seconds, the luxurious carpet beneath seemed to discolor slightly from the chemical reaction.
Hilda collapsed to the floor, crying hysterically while clutching Azura’s feet.
“Please!
Have mercy!
Lord Bastian threatened to kill my mother if I didn’t put it in!”
Azura looked down at the woman groveling at her feet.
Disgust filled her chest.
Not because of the betrayal, but because of how amateurish this plan was.
”Leopold!” Azura shouted.
The door swung open instantly.
Leopold entered with a wary expression, followed by four pairs of eyes peeking from behind his back.
Caspian stood there, his face full of suspicion.
Beside him, a beautiful teenage girl of fifteen with long silver hair—Aurelia Vayne—stared at the scene with cold, calculating eyes.
Behind them, two ten-year-old twins, Leo and Lia, hid behind Caspian’s cloak with frightened faces.
”What is the meaning of this?” Caspian asked, his eyes shifting from the weeping Hilda to the teacup in Azura’s hand.
Azura ignored Caspian.
She looked at Leopold.
“Take this tea.
Give it to the hounds in the backyard.
If the dog dies within ten counts, drag this maid to the dungeon.
Don’t let her die.
Give her water, but no food.”
Leopold was stunned, looking at the spilled tea.
“Your Grace, is this…?”
”Poison,” Azura cut him off curtly.
She glanced toward the group of her stepchildren.
Aurelia Vayne stepped forward, glancing at Hilda with disdain before looking at Azura.
“You are accusing our servants of trying to kill you?
On the very first day you occupy this room?”
”I am not accusing, Aurelia.
I am proving it,” Azura replied.
She walked to the silver tray, picked up a non-poisonous biscuit, and chewed it calmly in front of them all.
“Hilda has already confessed.
She works for your beloved Uncle.”
Caspian clenched his fists.
A faint golden aura flickered around him again, but this time it wasn’t directed at Azura, but rather at the rage caused by the situation.
“Bastian…
that old man has truly lost his mind.”
”He hasn’t lost his mind, Caspian.
He’s just hungry for power,” Azura walked toward the twins, Leo and Lia.
She knelt before them, causing the two children to take a step back.
However, Azura only picked up the fallen empty cup.
She looked at Caspian and Aurelia in turn.
“Listen.
From this moment on, not a single morsel of food or drop of drink enters your mouths unless I have inspected it or Leopold has served it personally.
This castle is already crawling with vermin.
If you want to stay alive until tomorrow, learn to trust no one.
Including your own shadows.”
Azura stood tall, shattering the cup against the floor.
The sound of breaking porcelain was like a death knell for the peace of Vayne Castle.
”Leopold, lock her up.
If Bastian comes looking for her, tell him Hilda is very busy ‘serving’ me in the dungeon.”
”Understood, Your Grace,” Leopold bowed, immediately pulling the limp Hilda out of the room.
Caspian stared at Azura with an unreadable expression.
There was hate, there was confusion, but there was a flicker of respect beginning to take root.
“Why tell us?
You could have let us drink something wrong and taken everything for yourself.”
Azura looked at Caspian and let out a lopsided smirk—the kind that made the hair on his arms stand up.
”Because ruling over a pile of corpses is boring, boy.
I much prefer ruling over young lions with fangs.”
Azura walked past them all, leaving the room and heading toward the main corridor.
She needed to see Bastian’s face when he realized his tea bait had not only failed but had opened a path to a deeper hell.
[System: Well, well, well!
‘Young lions with fangs’?
Boss, that was cringe but very cool!
Intimidation score: 100%.
‘Evil Stepmother’ reputation points: Skyrocketing!]
Shut it, System.
We have an inventory to check.
If Bastian dares to play with poison, I’ll teach him how to use real poison.
Azura Vayne would not die twice the same way.
The game of internal purging had officially begun.