Chapter 160: The Start of the Obsession…?

*** Fiona Whitestrake – 21 Years old.

She lounged on the third floor of the Cold Iron District’s largest brothel, dressed in simple lingerie that felt comfortably familiar against her skin. A faded black bralette hugged her chest without pinching, the cotton soft from too many washes.

The matching panties sat low on her hips, plain and unadorned, more practical than pretty. No lace, no frills—just well-worn fabric that clung to her like a second skin in a place built on pretense.

Years of rebellious posturing had led nowhere, and the lack of progress was finally starting to wear her down.

Life felt stagnant. Despite all her work in the shadows, she had never managed to find anyone she believed could help her cut ties with her family.

Whether it was the Lionbrights, the D’Arclights, or any other influential noble house that might take her in, none of them were enough.

In her eyes, no matter who she recruited, no one would ever truly wipe out the Whitestrakes—the family she had grown to despise and tire of.

Even those who could have wiped them would only keep them around as pawns.

That wasn’t an option.

Years of managing the underbelly of society had long since numbed her to murder.

“Seriously, is there really no one good enough to sweep a cute girl like me off her feet and away from an infuriating household?”

Fiona sighed and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her ledger lay forgotten on the floor, its pages filled with names, each one scratched out or crossed through. Not one—not a single person—had met her standards.

*** Arden Estate – Outside

Fiona decided to take a quick walk after covering herself up with a robe, hoping some fresh air would clear her head. The brothel wasn’t exactly the best place to think, after all.

“Maybe I could try the Valemonts?”

She frowned, then shook her head.

“No… they’re not strong enough to take on my family.”

She kept walking, shoulders slumped, when a strange surge of magic snapped her out of her sulking.

It was familiar—something she’d come to recognize after years of living in the Cold Iron District.

Demonic summoning. And in a noble’s house, no less.

“Huh…”

A mischievous grin spread across her face.

[Light Manipulation]

She turned herself invisible and slipped into the Arden estate, eventually ending up on the second-floor balcony. Pushing aside the curtain just enough to peek in, she saw someone she’d never have expected.

Cael Arden, a baron’s son. He’d never been considered particularly talented. So seeing that same inconspicuous child summoning a demon in his room was… surprising, to say the least.

“W-Woah… this is some juicy stuff.”

She smiled. This was information she could sell for a small fortune; there was no shortage of people eager to hunt down demonologists.

Plenty of folks made a living just by selling out anyone who summoned demons.

Fiona knew exactly how lucky she’d gotten.

But before she could gather more details, the name Beelzebub snapped her attention back. An instant later, pitch-black darkness flooded the room she was peeking in—a suffocating void that seemed to slam into her, hurling her backward off the balcony and into the bushes below.

RUSTLE!

“T-The hell was that!? Did… did someone just summon a demon prince!?”

Fiona shook her head hard.

“No way, right? That can’t be… It must be some normal high-ranking demon.”

She tried to convince herself. Still… even a high-ranking demon was an impressive feat.

Impressive enough to catch her eye.

“Cael Arden, huh? I should keep an eye on you…”

And she had—quite thoroughly.

From stalking him at the very start of the Academy’s entrance exam, to noting his sabotage of the tournament, his strange closeness with Evelina, his tutoring of Kevin and Vivianne, and even his skill in battle.

She had meticulously combed through his past, his present, and even the possibility of his future.

And her conclusion?

He was the absolutely perfect candidate to be her classic fairy-tale prince charming.

*** Cold Iron District Brothel – Third Floor

She had plastered all her pictures of Cael across the wall, admiring each one with obsessive attention to detail.

She had to know everything about him. If she was ever going to meet him, she needed to be prepared—both mentally and physically.

She needed to be absolutely perfect.

Fiona sat cross-legged on the bed, the robe loosely draped over her shoulders as she stared at the wall like a devotee before a shrine.

Every scrap of information she’d gathered was there—charcoal sketches drawn from memory, notes in careful, obsessive handwriting, dates, observations, speculations.

At the center of it all was the cleanest portrait she’d managed to draw of him.

Cael Arden.

Her finger slowly traced the edge of the page, lingering over the outline of his face. “Unbelievable…” Her voice came out soft, almost breathless. She leaned closer, eyes half-lidded, as if studying something far more intimate than a drawing.

“You really are perfect.”

Her finger slid down the paper—over his collar, along the line of his chest she had imagined beneath his academy uniform. A faint shiver ran through her.

For years she had searched for someone strong, clever, dangerous enough. Every single one of them had disappointed her—too weak, too predictable, too obedient to the world as it was.

But Cael…

Cael had summoned a demon prince in his bedroom like it was nothing.

The memory alone made her thighs press together slightly. Her smile slowly widened.

“Summoning demons… sabotaging tournaments… quietly gathering allies…” She tapped the paper lightly. “And you do it all with that calm little face.”

How could someone so gentle-looking be so beautifully reckless?

Fiona leaned her head against the wall beside the portrait, staring at it like someone admiring a lover. Her heart was beating faster now—not from romance, but from hunger.

For years she had fantasized about someone ripping apart the Whitestrake family, someone powerful enough to burn everything she hated to the ground. And somehow, that person had turned out to be a quiet noble boy she used to ignore in passing.

A soft laugh escaped her lips. “Found you…”

Her fingers curled against the wood beside the portrait. The robe slipped slightly off her shoulder, unnoticed; her entire focus was on him.

“I searched for years…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And you were right here the whole time.”

Her gaze drifted to another section of the wall. More notes. More observations.

Evelina Lionbright — unusually close.

Fiona’s smile twitched. “Mm.” Her finger tapped the note slowly. “That part is… annoying.”

She tilted her head, studying Cael’s portrait again. The irritation faded as quickly as it came. Fairy tales were never simple. The prince always had obstacles—sometimes a rival, sometimes a monster guarding him, sometimes both.

Her smile returned, sharper this time. “That’s fine.” Her eyes gleamed with amusement. “It just means I’ll have to try harder.”

Fiona stood and walked closer to the wall, brushing her fingers over the sketches one by one. She had drawn him so many times she could recreate his face with her eyes closed—the slight calm in his expression, the thoughtful look in his eyes, the way he held himself during battle. She knew it all, better than most people who actually spoke to him.

Her fingertips pressed lightly against the portrait. For a moment she simply stared.

Then she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of the page.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Her voice carried a strange warmth—equal parts affection and possession. Because now that she had found him, she wasn’t letting him go. Not to another noble house. Not to political alliances. And certainly not to Evelina D’Arclight.

Her eyes sharpened. “No…”

She stepped back and examined the wall again—notes, charts, timelines. It still wasn’t enough. If she rushed things, she might ruin everything. But if she prepared properly, if she learned every habit, every preference, every weakness, then the moment she finally appeared in his life would be perfect.

Unavoidable.

Inevitable.

She pulled a blank sheet of paper from her desk and pinned it beneath his portrait. At the top she carefully wrote:

Operation: Prince Charming

Fiona stared at the words for a moment before giggling softly. Her earlier exhaustion had completely vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous.

Excitement.

Her pen began moving rapidly across the page—possible meeting scenarios, conversation openers, strategic favors she could offer him. Ways to make herself indispensable. Ways to make him need her.

By the time the candle burned halfway down, several new sheets had been added to the wall.

Fiona stepped back, admiring the growing shrine. Her eyes drifted back to Cael’s portrait, and her smile turned slow and almost delirious.

“Just wait a little longer…” Her voice was soft, possessive, certain. “I’ll make sure our first meeting is unforgettable.”

Her fingers brushed the portrait one last time.

“And when you finally notice me…” Her smile deepened. “You won’t be able to look away.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep