And Moryn's… was the purest violet-gold she'd ever seen.
"White Saint appears, and the emperor shall rise…"
Was that why she'd awoken in this human shell? Was her meeting with Moryn not coincidence, but divine intervention?
"Moryn," Zyra called.
"Yes," came his voice, low as a stringed harp, thrumming with power.
She cast a sidelong glance at Auren. "Toss him out."
Moryn's gaze shifted to Auren's hand still gripping Zyra's arm. His black pupils narrowed slightly, and a flash of frost flickered across them.
In a blink, Moryn moved.
Auren was yanked backward and flipped to the ground with a dull thud. A sickening crack echoed through the room as Moryn dislocated his wrist without a second thought.
"AAAGHH, !!"
A blood-curdling scream erupted from Auren's throat.
Moryn didn't even blink.
He grabbed the writhing man like a falcon carrying prey and asked, in an eerily calm tone, "Where shall I throw him, my lady?"
Zyra tapped her chin in thought. "Veloria House."
The infamous brothel in the capital. The most luxurious and notorious den of carnal pleasure. Men came from across the realm for it.
After all, it was the original Zyra who had drugged him. And since she now occupied this body, wasn't it only fair she helped resolve the consequences?
"Understood."
Moryn nodded, his face divine and expressionless, like a god unbothered by mortal chaos.
He was always like this.
No matter the request, no matter how absurd, he obeyed without question.
Auren's wails echoed behind them as he was dragged off.
"You dare throw me into a brothel?! Let go! LET GO OF ME!! Zyra Morwyn, you wretched witch! I'll make you pay for this!!"
Zyra didn't even flinch.
So noisy. Humans were so unbearably noisy.
She was being generous. Sending him to Veloria House to cool off the heat in his body, wasn't that an act of mercy?
Moryn, at least, wasn't noisy.
Yes… very satisfactory indeed.
The next morning.
When Auren Rhiemond staggered out of Veloria House, his clothes disheveled and body covered in ambiguous marks, he immediately became the center of attention.
"Well, well, isn't that the Duke's heir himself? What brings you to the House of Velvet Delights, my lord?"
"Didn't think you were the type! Everyone always said Lord Auren was pure and noble, even rejected the Chancellor's daughter, Velante's fairest maiden, but turns out you prefer... spicier fare?"
"Hahahaha!"
The street filled with lewd chuckles and whispered jests.
Auren's face turned the color of overripe tomatoes, then ghostly white, then red again. His whole body trembled in rage and humiliation as he tried to make a quick escape.
But from the top balcony of Veloria House, the madam herself, her makeup thick enough to choke, waved a scented handkerchief and shouted cheerfully, "Do come again, Lord Rhiemond! I'll give you a twenty percent discount next time!"
Auren nearly tripped over his own boots and fell flat on the cobblestone. He didn't look back. He ran.
Behind him, the madam continued her sales pitch, treating him like walking advertisement.
"Our house is the finest in the capital! Even the noble Lord Rhiemond can't resist us!"
"Our girls are unmatched, His Lordship stayed the entire night and left glowing!"
"Veloria House! The best in all Velante! Come on in, good sirs, don't miss out!"
---
Chancellor's Estate.
Zyra Morwyn was calmly brushing her hair before her mirror when she heard the report.
Her inky-black hair cascaded to her waist, the end lazily tied with a simple blue ribbon. A single lily-of-the-valley pin adorned her cloudlike bun, elegant and understated.
Her reflection was breathtaking.
Cold and serene, her beauty held no warmth. Every feature was artfully carved, eyes like starlight, the outer corners naturally tinted red, giving her an alluring edge even without expression.
True beauty lies in the bones, not the skin.
This face... it resembled her original form from the demon realm by about seventy percent. Perhaps lacking a touch of divine glow, but close enough. She could see why the original body had earned the title: The Fairest Lady in Velante.
Moryn, standing beside her, was reporting Auren's public disgrace.
Zyra nodded slightly. "Good."
She had to admit, the madam of Veloria House had business sense. Turning a discount prince into a free billboard? Ingenious.
Very satisfying.
The original Zyra had pined for Auren, secretly, openly, hopelessly. And he never once treated her with respect. In fact, he often scorned and humiliated her in public.
The original host tolerated it. But she, the Demon Queen of Ten Thousand Beasts, would not.
"Kindness is a virtue?"
"Eating loss is a blessing?"
What a joke. Eat enough losses, and people just call you weak and pathetic.
She was no pushover.
Even if her heart relished the vengeance, Zyra's face remained as unreadable as a statue's. She simply couldn't express much, thanks to her unique condition. Centuries of deep slumber in the mountain left her emotionally... stiff.
All of demonkind knew:
The Beast Queen was not talkative.
"Tea, my lady," Moryn said, offering a cup.
The scent of mountain hawthorn infused with spring leaves wafted up. Lightly sour and sweet, her favorite blend.
Today, Moryn thought, she's acting... different.
In the past, she was obsessed with Auren's affairs, emotional, loud, forceful. Now, she didn't even raise an eyebrow. She used to laugh and shout, loud and proud, dramatic to the point of absurdity.
But now? She sat quietly, no expression, calm as a winter lotus.
Zyra accepted the cup, brought it to her lips, and took a small sip.
Delicate. Sweet. Lingering.
Her pale eyes lingered on Moryn for a moment longer than usual.
Such a thoughtful guard.
There was no doubt: Moryn was exceptional.
But that brilliant violet-gold imperial aura?
It had no place lingering around a mere "bodyguard."
He had served the Morwyn estate for ten years, ever since he arrived as a seven-year-old. Since then, while not living at the manor full time, he had spent more than half his years stationed here.
There could only be one explanation: