Chapter 203: Chapter-203

The monitoring crystals around the bed flared bright red. Alarm enchantments activated, magical sensors detecting the sudden cessation of life signs and beginning to shriek—

Elara flicked her wrist. A pulse of her own magic—controlled, precise—shorted out every crystal simultaneously. The alarms cut off mid-wail, leaving sudden, heavy silence.

The System materialized beside her, tiny face absolutely stricken with horror.

“You—” Its voice came out strangled. “You actually—”

Then it seemed to process what it was seeing more carefully. Its eyes went to the sword, still embedded in the Emperor’s chest. To the angle of entry.

“You thrust into his ribcage,” it said, voice shifting from horror to something almost mocking. “You were supposed to aim ’lower’, where the heart actually ’is’. The ribs are higher up, they protect—you just stabbed him in the ’lung’—”

Elara’s head tilted slightly. She looked at the sword’s position with clinical assessment.

“Ah,” she said. “First time. Noted for future reference.”

“FUTURE REFERENCE?!” The System’s voice went shrill. “Host, you just—this isn’t a PRACTICE RUN—you can’t just—”

“The angle was suboptimal but the outcome is the same,” Elara said calmly. “Punctured lung, massive blood loss, cessation of brain function within minutes. The method was imperfect but the result is acceptable.”

“Acceptable?! HOST, YOU JUST MURDERED THE EMPEROR!”

“Yes. That was the plan.”

“The plan was—I TOLD you not to—I specifically—” The System was literally spinning in circles now, tiny body vibrating with panic. “Oh god, oh god, if people find out you’ll be ’executed’! Executed means DEATH! Death means returning to the goddess! And she’s going to be SO ANGRY with me for not stopping you! She’ll—she’ll peel my skin off! Hang me upside down! Cut me into tiny pieces and fry me in oil and then make me EAT MYSELF—”

“Shut up,” Elara said.

The System kept spiraling. “—or worse, she might just ERASE me! Delete my code! Make it like I never existed! I’ll be nothing, just empty data, consciousness scattered across—”

“I said ’shut up’.” Elara’s voice was flat but carried an edge. “Can’t you see? We just caught an assassin in the act.”

The System stopped mid-panic. Stared at her.

“…What?”

Elara walked back to the bedside. Put her foot against the Emperor’s still chest—not disrespectful, just practical, needing leverage—and gripped the sword hilt with both hands.

Pulling was somehow worse than thrusting.

The blade had settled into tissue, blood creating suction, and she had to ’wrench’ it free. The sound was obscene—wet tearing, meat separating from metal. The sword came loose suddenly and she staggered backward three steps, nearly losing her balance.

Blood sprayed.

A fine mist of it caught her face, warm droplets spattering across her cheek and jaw. More soaked into her clothes—though the preservation magic she routinely cast on her garments (because she had mild OCD about cleanliness and couldn’t take seven baths a day without getting sick) caused most of it to bead and slide off. But not all. Some clung to the fabric. Some marked her skin.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing the blood rather than removing it.

Looked at the sword. Heavy. Dripping. Coated in evidence.

She pulled out her handkerchief—the plain one she kept for practical purposes, not the decorative one nobles used for show—and began cleaning the blade with methodical strokes.

The System was still staring. “What are you ’doing’?! We need to RUN! Hide the body! Destroy the evidence! What if someone finds us? What if—”

“Enough.” Elara continued wiping the blade. “No one will find us. Everyone in this corridor is mine. The Beast Knights. Demerti. All of them answer to me.”

“But—”

“And I didn’t do anything,” Elara continued calmly. “The assassin did.”

The System’s mouth opened. Closed. Its tiny brain visibly trying to catch up to what she was implying.

“The assassin,” it repeated slowly. “The one we captured. Lian.”

“No.” Elara finished cleaning the sword and walked toward the door. “Not Lian. Someone else. Someone who attacked the Emperor while we were interrogating her. Someone who escaped through the window before we could stop them.”

“That’s—you’re going to frame a FAKE assassin for your OWN murder?!”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane! That won’t work! People will ask questions! They’ll investigate! They’ll—”

Elara reached the door.

The System made one last desperate attempt, flying at her collar as if it could physically restrain her. But it couldn’t. It had no substance, no strength, just—

The door opened.

Demerti stood on the other side, face already pale from waiting, from not knowing what was happening inside. His eyes went immediately to Elara’s face—to the blood smeared across her cheek that she’d deliberately ’left’ there, not fully wiped away.

To make sure they knew.

To make sure they understood.

His expression crumbled. The handkerchief he’d been clutching fell from trembling fingers.

“Your Highness—” His voice broke. “What did you—is he—”

Elara caught the falling handkerchief with her free hand. Wiped her face properly this time, removing the blood with calm, methodical strokes.

Then she looked at him. At Ken standing rigid behind him. At Marcus and Mahir and all the other Beast Knights who’d heard everything through the door and were now staring at her with expressions she couldn’t quite read.

Horror? Shock? Fear?

Probably all three.

“The assassin killed the Emperor,” Elara said. Voice flat. Empty. Factual. “They attacked while we were securing Lian. Managed to get past our perimeter. Struck the killing blow and tried to escape through the window. The Beast Knights captured them in the gardens.”

Silence.

Complete, absolute silence.

“The investigation has revealed that the original conspirator was the Fifth Concubine,” Elara continued. “She orchestrated both attempts—Lian’s failed one and this successful one. We need to move immediately. Ready teams for the raid. Secure all evidence. Contain anyone connected to her household.”

She held out the bloody handkerchief to Demerti.

“Take care of the preparations. We don’t have much time before word spreads.”

Demerti stared at the handkerchief. At her. At the blood still visible at the corner of her mouth where she’d missed a spot.

His hands were shaking so badly he could barely take the cloth from her.

“Your Highness,” he whispered. “This is—you just—we can’t—”

“We can,” Elara said. “We will. The Beast Knights witnessed the assassin’s escape. Multiple witnesses. Consistent testimony. The evidence trail leads back to the Fifth Concubine through Lian’s confession. It’s clean. Believable. Functional.”

Ken stepped forward. His face was ashen. “Your Highness. The Emperor is—”

“Dead,” Elara finished. “Murdered by forces conspiring against the throne. It’s a tragedy. But the regency continues. We maintain stability. We root out the conspiracy. We ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

Her voice didn’t waver. Didn’t show doubt.

Just cold, perfect control.

“The Empire cannot afford chaos right now. So we give them a narrative they can accept. An enemy they can blame. Justice they can witness.” She looked each of them in the eye. “That’s how we survive this.”

The Beast Knights looked at each other.

Some calculation happening between them that Elara couldn’t quite follow. Some wordless communication through ear positions and tail movements and minute shifts in posture.

Finally, Mahir spoke.

“The assassin,” he said slowly. “Tall. Male. Dark clothing. Escaped through the east window toward the gardens. We pursued but he was… enhanced somehow. Moved too fast. We wounded him but he got away.”

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