The morning arrived peacefully, almost contradicting the silent chaos that had settled in the previous night. Sunlight streamed through the large windows of Morgana’s mansion’s dining room, scattering golden hues across the long, carefully set table, where breakfast had been arranged with an almost artistic balance of simplicity and sophistication. Freshly baked bread still simmered, precisely cut fruit rested on porcelain platters, and the warm aroma of coffee filled the room with a welcoming feeling that contrasted sharply with the weight of the decisions about to be made.

Damon was already seated when the others began to arrive, leaning back in his chair, a cup between his fingers, slowly swirling it as he observed the dark liquid as if more interested in the movement than the contents. His expression was calm, but his eyes—even rested—still carried that attentive glint of someone who never truly switched off.

Morgana was the first to join him, entering the room with firm but unhurried steps, her hair still slightly loose after the morning, and an air of someone who had already organized half of her own mind before even sitting down. She took the chair beside him, casting him a brief glance that mixed analysis and familiarity, before calmly reaching for her own cup.

Soon after, Elizabeth entered, followed by Aria and Ester, forming a group that, even in silence, completely altered the atmosphere of the room. It wasn’t just presence—it was weight. Each of them carried a specific kind of influence, and when they were all gathered in that same space, it became almost impossible to ignore how far that situation had escalated beyond the ordinary.

They settled in without haste, without exaggerated ceremony, but also without carelessness. Everything there was natural, but intentional.

For a few seconds, no one said anything.

The soft sound of porcelain being played, the movement of cutlery, the aroma of coffee—all of this filled the space as each one adjusted to the moment.

Until, inevitably, the subject came up again.

Morgana was the first to break the silence, resting her elbow lightly on the table while interlacing her fingers in front of her face, her gaze quickly sweeping over everyone before settling on a neutral point.

“Some of my informants within the Arven mansion itself have already been activated,” she began, her voice calm but firm, like someone who already had absolute clarity about what she was doing. “They will be in contact throughout the week. It’s not safe to act directly now, but… they can observe.”

Damon tilted his head slightly, showing immediate interest.

“Employees?” he asked, without interrupting her flow.

Morgana nodded.

“Servants, assistants, some lower-level members of the internal administration. People who aren’t seen… and precisely because of that, they see everything.”

Aria smiled slightly, resting her chin on her hand.

“The best kinds.”

Morgana ignored the comment, though a small smile crept into her face.

“They don’t know everything, obviously,” she continued. “But they can perceive changes. Altered routines. Unusual movements. Who comes in, who goes out… and, most importantly, who shouldn’t be there.”

Elizabeth nodded slightly, taking a sip of coffee before speaking.

“That’s more than enough to start putting together patterns.”

Ester, who had been silently observing while distractedly fidgeting with the edge of her plate, raised her gaze slightly.

“As long as they survive long enough to report,” she commented in her usual dry tone.

Morgana stared at her for a brief moment.

“They know the risk.”

“Everyone thinks they know,” Ester replied, shrugging.

There was a brief silence after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… acceptance of reality.

Aria then leaned slightly forward, her eyes shining with a different, more active interest.

“I can go in.”

The sentence made everyone look at her.

She gave a small smile.

“At the Duke’s mansion,” she clarified, as if it were obvious. “As a maid.”

Damon raised an eyebrow slightly.

“You?” he asked, with a slight hint of amusement in his voice. “In disguise?”

Aria didn’t seem offended.

On the contrary.

“Fortunately,” she said, crossing her legs elegantly, “the chances of anyone recognizing me are extremely low.”

Elizabeth glanced slightly at her, interested.

“Because of Mirath.”

Aria nodded.

“I’ve always been… discreet there. I avoid unnecessary exposure. Few faces, few names, few direct connections.” She tilted her head slightly. “For most people here… I simply don’t exist.”

Ester made a small sound through her nose.

“Lucky you.”

Aria smiled slightly.

“I’d say it’s strategy.”

Morgana observed for a few seconds before speaking.

“Getting in won’t be the problem,” she said. “Staying… might be.”

Aria shrugged slightly.

“Then I just won’t make mistakes.”

Damon chuckled softly.

“Confident.”

She looked at him.

“You’d prefer I wasn’t?”

He tilted his head slightly.

“No. I’d prefer exactly that.”

Ester then slowly uncrossed her arms, resting her hands on the table.

“I don’t have that option anymore,” she said, in a more direct tone. “Everyone in this world has probably seen me or heard of me in some way.”

Aria looked at her with an amused smile.

“Fame has its problems.”

Ester didn’t respond to the smile.

“The matter is simple,” she continued. “I don’t go anywhere without drawing attention.”

Elizabeth nodded slightly.

“Neither do I.”

Damon looked at her.

“But you’ll still try.”

She carefully set her cup down before answering.

“Not directly.”

A pause.

“I still have connections.”

Morgana raised her gaze slightly.

“Among the nobles.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Throughout the duchy.”

The silence that followed was all the more significant.

Because that… carried weight.

“I can investigate the Duchess from that angle,” she continued. “Events, meetings, political maneuvers, recent alliances… people like her don’t operate completely invisibly. They always leave traces—even subtle ones.”

Ester crossed her arms again.

“And you know where to look.”

Elizabeth didn’t answer immediately.

But her gaze said enough.

“Yes.”

Damon had observed everything in silence until then, absorbing each proposal, each direction that naturally formed between them. There was no conflict—only adjustment.

Coordination.

Pieces fitting together.

And then—

All eyes turned to him.

Naturally.

No words needed.

He noticed.

And shrugged.

“Cherry.”

The name was spoken simply, but it carried intention.

Morgana tilted her head slightly.

“Do you trust her?”

Damon brought the cup to his lips before answering, taking a calm sip.

“Trust is a strong word.”

Aria smiled.

“Of course it is.”

He set the cup down again.

“But she’s interested.”

A pause.

“And she’s ambitious.”

Ester tilted her head slightly.

“Ambition doesn’t guarantee loyalty.”

“No,” Damon replied. “But it guarantees movement.”

Silence.

Short.

“She’s embedded in the underworld we want to understand,” he continued. “And unlike us… she’s already part of the system. She doesn’t need to join. She doesn’t need to pretend. She just needs to… keep playing.”

Morgana watched attentively.

“And you believe she’ll help you.”

Damon gave a slight smile.

“I believe she’ll give me what I need… as long as it’s useful to her.”

Aria laughed softly.

“And you think you can keep that under control?”

He looked at her.

“No.”

A pause.

“But I don’t need to control it.”

This made Ester raise an eyebrow slightly.

“So?”

Damon rested his elbow on the table, leaning slightly forward.

“I just need to be one step ahead when she decides to switch sides.”

Silence.

More intense this time.

But not negative.

It was… respect.

Elizabeth was the first to speak after that.

“So we have three fronts.”

Morgana nodded.

“Internal.”

Aria completed:

“Infiltration.”

Ester:

“External.”

Elizabeth concluded:

“And the underworld.”

Damon gave a small smile.

“Organized.”

Aria tilted her head slightly.

“For now.”

Ester let out a small sigh.

“This won’t stay like this for long.”

Morgana rested her chin on her hand.

“It doesn’t need to.”

Everyone looked at her.

“It just needs to last long enough.”

Silence.

But this time—

Different. There was something there.

Alignment.

Not perfect.

Not absolute.

But enough.

Damon observed each of them for a moment, as if memorizing that specific configuration—those positions, those intentions.

And then he let out a small sigh.

“So that’s it…” Damon murmured, lower this time, as if testing the true weight of those words before fully accepting them.

Elizabeth didn’t hesitate.

“That’s it.”

The answer came firmly, without room for doubt or retreat, supported by a look that made it clear that, from then on, there was no more room for hesitation—only action.

Aria tilted her head slightly, her smile appearing naturally, but carrying an energy different from her usual lightness. There was expectation there. Genuine interest in what was to come.

“So, do we start today?”

Ester didn’t even lift her gaze completely before answering, her voice cutting through the space with her usual precision:

“We’ve already begun.”

There was no dramatization in how she said it.

It was a statement of fact.

Simple.

Direct.

Inevitable.

Morgana remained silent for a moment, her eyes moving slowly until they met Damon’s, as if she wanted to confirm something that no longer needed to be said aloud. It wasn’t a question—it was alignment. A silent check that he was exactly where he should be at that moment.

And he was.

Damon held her gaze for a brief second… and then smiled.

But it wasn’t the same smile as before.

There was no provocation.

No superficial game.

No irony.

It was more restrained.

More precise.

A smile of someone who finally saw the complete board—or at least enough of it to start playing for real.

The anticipation was there. Clara.

Alive.

Because now it was no longer a matter of curiosity or coincidence.

The pieces had been revealed.

The intentions began to take shape.

And, above all—

The lines were drawn.

The Duchess.

The Duchy.

The organization in the shadows.

Each of them now occupied a position.

Chosen.

Assumed.

No turning back.

Damon leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers swirling the coffee cup calmly, while his eyes scanned each of them once more, as if registering that exact configuration—that specific moment before everything truly began to move.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep