The silence in the west wing corridor of Vayne Castle felt significantly heavier tonight.
The metallic tang of blood from the dungeon still lingered at the edge of Azura’s nose—a scent that to her was a perfume of victory, but to others, a deathly warning.
The rhythmic click of her boots shattered the stillness as she headed toward the late Marquis’s private library, which now stood tightly sealed.
To Azura, her husband’s death—the Marquis of Vayne—was far too “tidy” to be a mere tragedy.
A man who commanded the golden legacy aura of the Vayne family, a feared military leader, suddenly withering away and dying of “illness” in such a short time?
It was a cheap script she had encountered far too often in her previous world before a big boss was taken out.
[Krrrkk…
Glitch…]
[System: Boss, I just detected energy residue on the library door.
This isn’t a normal lock.
It’s a Blood-Magic Lock.
If you aren’t part of the family or don’t carry written permission from the ‘owner’ of this soul, you’ll be roasted alive within three seconds.
Shall I call an ambulance, or shall we proceed?]
Be quiet, System.
I am the Marchioness of Vayne now.
Legally legitimate, and biologically…
this body still holds its rights, Azura thought coldly.
She stood before the massive mahogany door.
In its center was a carved lion’s head with ruby eyes that seemed to be watching her.
Azura touched the small nick on her neck—the scratch from Caspian’s sword the other day that she had intentionally left unhealed.
With the pressure of her thumb, she allowed a drop of fresh crimson blood to seep out and pressed it onto the lion’s ruby eye.
Thump.
A cold sensation raced from her fingertip throughout her body.
The blood was sucked inward.
The ruby eyes flashed, followed by the sound of iron mechanisms turning inside the walls.
The door groaned open slowly, emitting a gust of cold air that smelled of dust and ancient magic.
The library was vast, but books weren’t what Azura was looking for.
She walked straight toward the family portrait on the back wall of the desk—a grand painting of Marquis Vayne looking gallant with his golden sword.
Azura felt along the frame until her fingers found a hidden lever.
Behind it, a pitch-black steel vault with an inverted cross engraving emerged.
It was the most foreign-looking object in the entire castle.
[System: Warning!
Object detected: The Forbidden Vault.
There is high-level magic encryption from the Central Church.
It seems your husband was keeping something very ‘sinful’ in here.
Shall I attempt a force-sync, or would you prefer the manual way?]
”Perform a force-sync, System.
I don’t have time for magic riddles,” Azura commanded.
[Process started…
10%…
40%…
100%.
Aha!
Open.
Congratulations, Boss.
You’ve just opened Pandora’s Box.]
Inside, there was no gold or jewels.
Only a single scroll of old parchment tied with a black ribbon and a small, dark purple memory crystal.
Azura took the scroll, unfurling it slowly.
Her eyes narrowed as she read line after line.
The document was a secret demand from the Central Church requesting the transfer of management rights for the Meridian Gold Mine—the Vayne family’s primary source of wealth—under the guise of it being “Holy Land.” However, what made Azura’s breath hitch was a small note in the margins, written in the Marquis’s trembling hand:
”They don’t want the gold.
They seek the Key to the Underworld Gate buried beneath this territory.
The poison in my tea…
I know it came from them.
Forgive me, Azura…
do not let the children fall into the hands of the Pope.”
”So, this is why,” Azura muttered.
The Marquis hadn’t died of illness; he had been systematically assassinated because he was an obstacle to the Church’s global agenda.
The Church wasn’t just a religious organization; they were predators seeking the world’s most forbidden resources.
[System: Whoa, Boss.
This isn’t just a territorial conspiracy anymore.
This is continental.
The Central Church has influence over almost every kingdom.
If they find out you hold this document, they’ll send the entire ‘Holy Sieve’ corps to wipe you off the map.]
”Let them come,” Azura let out a thin smirk, the kind she usually gave before blowing up an enemy headquarters.
“I enjoy playing with people who think they are holy.”
Azura stored the document in the system inventory and stepped out of the library.
However, just as she closed the secret door, a small sob echoed from the dark corridor.
Azura turned sharply, her combat instincts activating instantly.
“Who’s there?!”
From behind a stone pillar, a trembling small figure emerged.
It was Lia, the youngest, only ten years old.
Her silver hair was a mess, and her face was swollen from crying.
She was clutching a rabbit doll with a torn ear.
”M-Mama…” Lia’s voice was barely audible, filled with pure terror.
Azura froze.
That word felt like an electric shock.
In her old world, she never had a family, let alone a child.
To her, children were troublesome, weak variables.
However, the memories of the original Azura reacted differently.
A pang of pain throbbed in her chest at the sight of the terrified Lia.
”Why aren’t you asleep?” Azura asked, her voice trying to remain flat, though it softened slightly.
”I…
I had a nightmare,” Lia sobbed, her tears falling again.
“I dreamed Father came and took me to a dark place…
and then Mama left me too, just like Father did…”
Lia stepped forward, her tiny hand tugging at the hem of Azura’s black gown.
She looked up at Azura with sea-blue eyes identical to the original Azura’s—eyes filled with a plea for protection.
[System: Boss, target emotion level: Extreme Fear.
If you ignore her now, she will suffer long-term psychological trauma.
Also, there’s an observer at 3 o’clock. This story is hosted at g.com.
Caspian is watching.]
Azura stole a glance toward the shadows at the end of the hallway.
She knew Caspian was there, monitoring her every move.
If she pushed Lia away, she would prove herself a heartless monster.
But if she held her…
Azura let out a long sigh.
She knelt before Lia, a gesture that felt entirely foreign to her.
With stiff hands, she pulled the small body into her embrace.
Lia flinched for a moment, then buried her face in Azura’s shoulder, crying uncontrollably.
The small body shook violently.
Azura rubbed Lia’s back slowly, mimicking a rhythm she had once seen mothers use on the streets of her old city.
”No one is going to take you away, Lia,” Azura said, her voice low and filled with authority.
“As long as I am breathing, this castle is the safest place on this continent.
And anyone who dares touch you…
I will make sure they beg for death.”
It wasn’t the gentle promise of a mother; it was a vow of protection from a Mafia Boss to a member of her clan.
In the darkness of the corridor, Caspian Vayne clenched his fists.
He watched the scene with mixed emotions.
He had just seen Azura brutally torture Silas Meren a few hours ago, and now the same woman was hugging his sister with such…
sincerity?
Who was this woman, really?
Was she truly the weak Azura, or was she another entity sent to save the Vayne family from ruin?
The next morning, the atmosphere of the castle had changed.
The servants worked at twice their usual speed, and Arthur had begun training the new guards in the central courtyard.
Azura sat in the dining room, sipping her black coffee when Leopold arrived, carrying a silver tray with a letter sealed in gold and blood-red wax.
”Your Grace,” Leopold bowed deeply.
“An invitation from Duke Varentis of the Southern Territory.
He is hosting a ‘Banquet of Vultures’ in three days.
All high nobles are invited to discuss the transition of power in the Vayne March.”
Azura took the letter.
Her eyes scanned the sender’s name: Duke Varentis.
[System: Ah, here he is.
Duke Varentis.
One of the three ‘Royal Fangs.’ His personal strength is said to surpass the average high-level knight.
And word has it, he’s a very…
unique individual.
You must be careful, Boss.
Your Mafia Aura might not work on someone who prefers squatting in a rice field over sitting on a throne.]
Azura smiled, a flash of bloodlust returning to her eyes.
“A Banquet of Vultures, is it?
They think they’re going to feast on the carcass of the Vayne family.”
She stood up, tearing the invitation in half and tossing it into the fireplace.
”Tell the Duke’s messenger I will attend.
And tell him…
don’t prepare vultures.
Just prepare a funeral for anyone who dares to underestimate the Marchioness of Vayne.”