Time seemed to freeze.
Silence.
An awkward, heavy silence.
Irish stood stiffly, her face flushed with heat. Her thoughts screamed only one thing:
"It's the Empress of the Ashen Kingdom."
Her mind spun like a broken compass. Had she just taken another mental blow? How could she be here? And why was he with her?
Too many questions. Too much at once. Irish wanted to scream, to bolt out of the room, to disappear and pretend none of this ever happened.
She tried to take a step back—but she couldn't. Her limbs refused to move, as if some invisible force held her in place.
The Empress smiled. There was amusement on her face, but also a glint of irritation in her crimson eyes—she'd definitely heard Irish's outburst.
Her smile widened, lips curling with twisted delight. "So noisy," she murmured to herself.
She glanced at Marquel, then back at Irish. Her gaze was sharp, hungry. "Since you're so eager to know, I'll explain our relationship."
With a wave of her hand, Marquel was pulled forward. He staggered a bit but didn't resist. Irish's heart twisted at the sight.
Then the Empress's voice dropped, menacing and intimate.
"Tell her, Marquel," she whispered darkly. "Tell her who you belong to."
The air turned thick. The mark on Marquel's cheek flared with power, pulsing like a cursed brand. His eyes briefly went blank.
His body stiffened as if the words were being forced out.
"I… I'm yours, my Lady," he said. His tone was soft, but there was a hollow stiffness in his voice, like he was repeating something engraved deep in his bones.
The Empress let out a satisfied chuckle and pulled him even closer, draping her arm possessively around him. Her gaze flicked to Irish, savoring every flicker of emotion on her face.
Irish clenched her fists. She didn't know why—but jealousy clawed at her insides.
She barely knew Marquel. He was just a mysterious boy she found interesting… but her heart had already started to grow fond of him. She hadn't realized how deeply until now—until someone else claimed him right in front of her.
She had been too slow. Too weak. Too late.
A bitter feeling bubbled in her chest. She wanted to scream. She wanted to be stronger—not just to protect her classmates during the dungeon outbreak, but to protect him, too.
To take him back.
But right now, all she could do was watch.
The Empress saw the pain flickering behind her eyes and grinned in dark satisfaction. She could kill the girl. She had every reason to.
But she didn't.
Because she knew Marquel would hate her for it—and despite her domineering presence, she didn't want his hatred. At least, not yet.
Besides, watching Irish squirm like this was far more entertaining.
She licked her lips slowly, her rosy scent growing stronger in the air like an intoxicating perfume.
Then, to Irish's horror, the Empress started unbuttoning Marquel's shirt.
One. Button. At. A. Time.
"No way…" Marquel's thoughts went blank as cool air hit his skin. "Don't tell me she's going to—"
He tried to push her away, but the Empress shot him a glare that could silence thunder.
He froze, cheeks burning in embarrassment. "How Lucky I'm," he muttered under his breath.
Irish's eyes widened as the Empress pulled back his shirt, revealing a sculpted chest and a firm six-pack that looked like it belonged on the cover of a forbidden cultivation magazine.
Irish let out a tiny squeak and turned her face away, cheeks blazing.
She didn't expect him to be hiding such a body under those plain clothes. Her face was as red as a tomato.
But the Empress wasn't done.
"Hmm your no fun," she chuckled. With a flick of her fingers, Irish's head snapped back—not painfully, but firmly—forcing her to watch.
The poor girl nearly fainted.
---
Far away, deep inside a shadowy cave, a massive beast roamed. A hulking bear—at least a 5-Star tier spirit beast—snarled as its paw crushed stones like twigs.
A figure approached it. Graceful. Deadly.
A young woman with golden hair and glowing amber eyes, clad in sleek silver knight armor. Her movements were precise, fluid, almost dance-like.
In three elegant steps, she dodged the bear's swipe, twisted midair, and with one clean motion—shink—beheaded it.
Blood splattered, steam rising from the corpse.
She landed without a scratch.
Clara smiled, wiping sweat from her brow with a towel, revealing a slender neck that caught the eyes of every nearby knight.
Their gazes turned hot, like mosquitoes drawn to a flame.
But Clara shot them a glare so sharp it felt like their heads might roll. Bloodlust poured from her in waves.
The knights paled.
They looked away, stiff as statues.
"Idiots," she muttered, then checked the date on her crystal. Her smile returned, soft and radiant. "Time really flies. i Guess it's about time I go to the academy."
---
Back at Marquel room, the Empress finally seemed satisfied with her chaos. She walked over to Irish, tilted her chin up gently, and whispered, "He's mine. Don't get any silly ideas."
Then, with a smirk and a swirl of the void, she vanished into thin air, once she came back to her chamber she immediately want to call Clara for her to join the academy
As fast as she can
Irish stood frozen, cheeks still red, heart burning.
But then—she laughed.
It was bitter. Tired. But it was a laugh.
Marquel—still shirtless—sighed and began buttoning his shirt back up.
"Let's… not talk about the Empress," he muttered. "It's complicated."
Irish nodded. She still had a thousand questions, but she respected his tone and didn't press further.
Later, when things had calmed down and they were alone, Marquel finally tried to explain.
But every word he spoke was a carefully crafted lie. A soothing story meant to ease her heart and mask the truth.
He told her the Empress had given him a mission, that she had warned him of the dungeon outbreak beforehand.
Irish blinked. "Then how did you predict it?" she asked softly.
Marquel smiled weakly. "It's a cultivator thing. The Empress has a knack for sensing trouble. She… helped me prepare."
She nodded slowly, though something about it felt off.
Still, she didn't push. What was done, was done.
But Marquel's heart sank. Seeing the trust in her eyes made him feel like the lowest kind of scum.
"How could I lie to such an innocent girl?" he muttered under his breath. "Tsk. Tsk."
[i feel bad to Irish honestly TwT anyway next chapter is few hours away]