Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Warfare runs in the family.

Rafael raised his eyes to the ceiling, hoping for mercy, but the plaster and decorative ether veins did not grant him mercy.

Rafael lifted the datapad again, hands trembling like he was about to summon an ancient demon rather than his mother. “Fine,” he muttered, as if this were his last living act. He tapped the call button and prayed to every forgotten deity for mercy.

He pressed call, already hearing his heartbeat in his ears. Delphine answered immediately, her voice crisp enough to slice through the air.

“Rafael. I already clarified my stance.”

He rushed in before she could end the conversation again. “Mother, wait! Please. You once made me a promise. When I agreed to work in the palace during the civil examination week, you said I could make one request without conditions.”

There was a pause on the other end, not long, but loaded, Delphine sifting through memories with a precision that made Rafael’s stomach twist.

Gabriel glanced up, suddenly very attentive. Alexandra, Irina, Max, and Julian all looked like they were watching a live execution.

“Yes,” Delphine said at last. “I remember that promise. I thought you intended to take the exam, not help organize it.”

Rafael swallowed, forcing himself to continue. “I did work for the examination, the point was for me to get a job in the palace. I did it.” He glanced at Gabriel, who allowed the faintest nod. “So my request is valid.”

Another silence.

Alexandra mouthed, ’She’s calculating.’

Irina mouthed back, ’He’s dead.’

Rafael pushed on before nerves crushed him. “So that is my request, Mother. Please cancel the luncheon with Francis of Lorraine. He’s not safe. His behavior already involved palace security. I don’t want this escalating into something political or dangerous.”

For a moment, Delphine said nothing, and Rafael felt the hair on his arms rise. He could almost see her expression behind the blank hologram: composed, analytical, weighing the cost of bending now versus later.

Then she spoke.

“…Very well. I accept your request. The luncheon is canceled.”

The room reacted like a bomb had detonated.

Julian dropped an entire stack of cards. Irina blinked so hard she looked concussed.

Alexandra covered her mouth in disbelief. Max let out a strangled sound between laughter and awe. And Gabriel leaned back in his chair, eyebrows lifting in genuine surprise.

“You… she accepted?” Gabriel asked quietly, as if confirming the laws of physics still applied.

Rafael nodded slowly, stunned. “She… she said yes.”

Max looked offended. “Just like that? After all the drama? No negotiation? No guilt tactics?”

Alexandra whispered, “Delphine Rosenroth folding without a fight is a sign of the end times.”

Rafael didn’t smile. Delphine never surrendered without purpose.

“Thank you, Mother,” he said cautiously, bracing for the inevitable catch.

And it arrived, clean and elegant.

“With Francis off the table,” Delphine continued, her tone brightening with dangerous enthusiasm, “I’ve arranged something far more suitable. A private blind date with a promising candidate. No title yet, but he comes from excellent lineage. Ambitious. Well-mannered. You will meet him tomorrow afternoon in my private salon.”

Rafael nearly dropped the datapad. “A… blind date? Mother, wait…”

“It’s already arranged,” she said smoothly. “Wear something tasteful. I expect you by three.”

Before he could breathe another syllable, the line clicked off.

Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.

Then Max stood, clapped once, and declared, “Your mother is terrifying. I love her.”

Alexandra looked like she needed to sit down. “She canceled one trap just to replace it with another.”

Julian exhaled slowly. “She used your wish to close the front door and opened the window instead.”

Irina shook her head, both impressed and horrified. “You never stood a chance.”

Rafael stared at the dead holoscreen, hands cold. “She redirected the entire thing. I thought I won, and she just… moved the battlefield.”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, the way he did when generals sent him news that created more problems than it solved. “Rafael. Tell me she didn’t just schedule a formal candidate meeting under the guise of a blind date.”

“She did,” Rafael whispered.

“All right,” Gabriel muttered grimly. “Then we’ve made this worse for you.”

Rafael groaned. “I can’t refuse now. I used the promise. She’ll claim I owe her cooperation to ’balance the scales.’”

Max leaned forward, fascinated. “This is the most impressive social trap I’ve ever seen. Truly. I feel honored to witness it.”

Rafael stood frozen for a second, the realization creeping up his spine like cold water. Then he walked to the windows in three stiff steps, braced his hands against the sill, and started laughing.

It wasn’t a normal laugh. It was the brittle, cracked sound of a man realizing the universe had played him like a fiddle.

Alexandra straightened immediately. “Oh no. He’s gone hollow.”

Julian set down the baby hologram projector. “That’s the laughter of a man who just saw the inside of the trap and realized he walked in on his own.”

Irina approached carefully, the way one approaches a distressed swan or an unstable noble. “Rafael? Please tell me that’s the laugh of relief and not the laugh of someone plotting arson.”

Rafael didn’t turn around. His shoulders were shaking. “She planned this. She planned this from the beginning.”

Max leaned back, his deep green eyes delighted. “Explain. I want the full analysis.”

Rafael exhaled sharply through another laugh. “The marquis was bait. He was never the true goal. He was harmless enough to seem viable but just controversial enough for me to panic and demand a cancellation.” He turned, pale blue eyes wide and bright with despairing clarity. “She knew I’d refuse him. She knew I’d burn the promise to get out of it.”

Alexandra pressed a hand to her chest. “Your mother is playing eleven-dimensional chess.”

Gabriel didn’t look impressed, only resigned. “Of course she is. She raised you.”

Rafael shook his head, pacing again. “She wanted the promise gone. She wanted it used. Because then she could roll out her real candidate, the one she actually wants me to marry, without me having any bargaining power left.”

Irina winced. “She cleaned the slate before the attack.”

Julian nodded slowly, lunging his long legs, fully aware that he would be late home today as well. “It’s… honestly brilliant.”

Max grinned. “It’s diabolical. I’m in love.”

Rafael threw his hands up, half hysterical. “She outmaneuvered me before breakfast! She anticipated my panic! She anticipated the palace reacting! She anticipated everything! I’ve been played by my own mother like a child.”

Gabriel folded his arms, his tone measured. “So now we know her intention. She didn’t want Francis. She never cared about Francis. She wanted to bind you to a meeting you could not refuse.”

Rafael pressed his palms to his face. “This wasn’t even matchmaking. This was psychological warfare.”

Alexandra nodded approvingly. “A Rosenroth specialty.”

Rafael let his hands drop, defeated and still slightly breathless from laughing. “I walked into it like an idiot.”

Max tapped the arm of the couch. “To be fair, Rafael, she’s had twenty-four years of practice. You never stood a chance.”

Gabriel exhaled, already reaching for another folder. “Well. Since Delphine has escalated, we escalate in return.”

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