After finishing an intense training session, Riven walked leisurely down the long corridor toward the bath.

His breath was still slightly heavy, and his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his skin. A few strands of black hair stuck to his damp temple, while his right hand slowly reached up to loosen the cloth tied around his wrist.

His mind drifted, lulled by the silence of the grand hallway, broken only by the soft sound of his footsteps.

Life in the Rathstura estate… was nothing like anything he’d experienced before. There were no worries about shelter, no stench of sewers, no gnawing hunger keeping him awake at night. Only peace, safety, and a level of comfort that almost felt alien.

A faint smile curved on his lips.

Who would’ve thought? Someone like him, born into poverty and violence in not one, but two different lives, now strolling through marble corridors bathed in sunset light. Eating three meals a day. Sleeping in a soft bed. Bathing in warm water. Even his sister could laugh, learn, and play without fear.

Honestly, it all felt like a dream.

And precisely because of that, he couldn’t let his guard down.

Life had taught him one truth: anything warm and good was fragile. Happiness always came like an uninvited guest—lingering briefly, then vanishing without a promise to return.

In the middle of his thoughts, his mind wandered to a certain woman.

Ashtoria.

She wasn’t just a fleeting presence in his mind. They spent almost every night together—lying in each other’s arms, sharing warmth, even tasting one another in kisses that were sometimes too brief… sometimes too deep.

But their relationship was strange. Riven could never quite define it. He never imagined he could stand beside someone like Ashtoria—so powerful, so mesmerizing. And yet deep down, in the quiet, selfish part of his heart, he knew he couldn’t let her go.

Still… every time he closed his eyes and recalled the feel of her body pressed to his, there was a sense of pleasure that crept in. And that was dangerous.

Feelings like that could make people forget themselves.

He turned into the left corridor, the path he’d memorized on his way to his room. But just a few steps in, he saw something—a silhouette standing motionless in the middle of the hall, as if it had been waiting for him. No sound of footsteps, no breathing, no movement at all.

His instincts screamed before his brain could register the threat.

He tried to back away.

Too late.

A single, precise blow struck the side of his neck, hitting a pressure point with surgical accuracy. The pain was brief, but its effect immediate—his muscles seized, his vision blurred, and the world collapsed like a curtain being violently torn down. His body crumpled to the floor without a sound, and darkness embraced him with icy fingers.

.

.

.

Ashtoria sat at the edge of the bed, her hands neatly folded on her lap. Hours had passed since sunset, and the room remained silent. The curtains were drawn tight, the chandelier above dimly lit, and the only sound was the ticking of a mechanical clock that grew louder with every passing minute.

She had waited.

The arrival of two visiting nobles had forced her into hiding. If her presence here was exposed, it would ruin everything she had worked for. Truthfully, she had considered killing them the moment she heard their footsteps in the hall. But she restrained herself.

And yet the hours dragged on.

At first, she sat still. Then paced. Then sat again. Over and over. The only thing stopping her fingers from sinking into those nobles’ throats was the awareness that killing them now would bring unnecessary chaos.

But her patience was running thin.

The sun had long since vanished. The night air seeped through the window cracks, but Riven still hadn’t come. Even Melly—the chatty little girl who was never far—was nowhere to be seen.

Ashtoria waited ten more minutes.

Then five.

And finally, she rose to her feet.

Her footsteps were silent as she walked through the corridors, her nightgown swaying softly with each movement. But her pale, emotionless face held something far darker than the night outside the window.

If she saw those nobles in the hall?

She would kill them. Even if their deaths raised questions among the greedy vultures in the Noble Faction. That was still better than letting news spread that she was still alive.

She swept through the estate like a shadow—back garden, dining hall, guest rooms, even the kitchen. But there was no sign of Riven or Melly.

Her thoughts began to spiral. Her pace quickened, grew heavier. She searched corridor after corridor, calling Riven’s name in her mind, her heart tight with both worry and dread.

Where are you…?

A whisper curled through her thoughts, quiet but lethal. Did you leave me?

She shook it off, but the voice came again, louder, sharper. Are you tired of me? After everything we did… After you slept beside me, kissed me, called me by that special name… and still, you chose to leave?

At last, Ashtoria made her way to the western wing, toward the study. The oil lamps lining the hall flickered, casting shadows on the walls, but no guards dared meet her gaze. Her gown rustled softly, her stride measured, but the pressure in the air around her was suffocating.

She pushed the study doors open without knocking.

Ethan Rathstura looked up from a stack of documents. His brow furrowed, and he immediately stood up straight like a soldier under inspection.

“Y… Your Majesty,” he stammered. “Is there something I can—”

“I haven’t seen Riven,” Ashtoria said coldly. “Or Melly. I’ve searched the entire estate.”

Her voice was calm, but the tension in her words made the air feel heavy.

Ethan swallowed hard. “I’ll have guards dispatched immediately—”

“Mobilize all forces,” she interrupted, eyes narrowing. “Search every room, every corner, even the dirtiest storeroom. Then sweep the entire city of Glimfell.”

Without delay, Ethan stepped to the door and signaled the two guards stationed outside.

“Summon every unit now! Full search of the manor and the entire city!”

The guards nodded quickly and ran off without a word.

Ashtoria turned back to Ethan, her expression unreadable.

“The two visitors, the nobles from earlier. Where are they?”

Ethan hesitated, then answered, “They… departed this afternoon, Your Majesty. Without an escort.”

Her face didn’t change. But the room itself seemed to freeze.

“Find them too,” she said, voice as quiet as death. “They may have taken Riven and Melly. Trace their steps. Check inns, brothels, even underground dens if necessary. And if you return empty-handed…”

She turned to face him, her gaze like a frozen lake in winter.

“…then I’ll assume you were part of whatever made Riven disappear.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the room, her gown flaring behind her like a shadowed bird of prey.

Ethan could only watch her retreating figure disappear into the dim corridor, a chill crawling down his spine.

Queen Ashtoria was on the move.

And that… was a terrible omen for anyone who dared stand in her way.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep