The Violet Lightning Empress Dons Golden Armor and Dotes on Her Sole Servant - Reunion and Poison

The veil of night had wrapped itself around the royal capital, Granseid. On the surface of the Selda River, the light of streetlamps shattered into fine fragments and swayed. In the noble district of the inner city, carriage wheels passed over the cobblestones with a dry clatter. One after another, those sounds were drawn in the same direction. The Orcott Ducal Estate. The residence, counted among the four great ducal houses, shone with a special brilliance tonight. A red carpet was laid over the cobblestones stretching from the gate to the entrance, and countless magical lamps affixed to the walls illuminated the guests with a brightness like midday despite the night. The attire of the nobles stepping down from their carriages was, every one of them, lavish, adorned with gold and silver thread. Among them, a single shadow that stood out with striking contrast. A jet-black dress. A deep black, as if the night itself had been cut out and sewn together. Boldly open from the collarbone to the chest, it conveyed intimidation before allure. The pure white skin flowing from her shoulders to her back seemed to sear the eyes in its contrast against the black. Her long golden hair was tonight bound up high, exposing the slender nape of her neck and the outline of her ears. (...In this form, before that person—) Victoria Valentine gazed at the gate of the ducal estate visible through the carriage window. Deep in her chest, a quiet fire burned. Her violet eyes, maintaining a deep color that seemed to melt into the darkness of night, occasionally let a flash of golden light streak through and vanish. The golden bikini was hidden beneath the jet-black dress. Its light, which shone as if melting into her skin, was now suppressed by the thick black fabric. At her neck, the Valentine family's lightning crest—a birthmark in the shape of a bolt—peeked slightly from the edge of the dress. "...My lady." Kuro, seated beside her, whispered in a low voice. His short black hair was, for tonight alone, perfectly groomed. It was swept back so that his bangs would not fall over his sharp eyes. His narrow black eyes stared intently at Victoria's profile. "What is it? That face again." Victoria, without shifting her gaze, let out a soft laugh. The emotion contained in that smile seemed like tenderness, yet somewhere, it was tinged with pain. "Are you going to tell me not to go? You?" Kuro bit his lip for an instant. "...I'm not in a position to say that. I understand. This is the path you have chosen, my lady." "Yes. I decided it." Victoria returned her gaze to the window. The gate of the ducal estate drew near. "Tonight, I will meet that person. Not as the Violet Lightning Empress, but so that in his eyes—I appear as nothing more than a woman." Her fingertips gently stroked the back of her own hand, folded upon her lap. The ring was not yet on. Her left ring finger was cold, and light. "You, as always, wait for my return in that stone chamber. I cannot have anyone discerning my true identity." "...As you command." Kuro's voice was terribly heavy. (Letting my lady go to that place, alone—) His right hand unconsciously reached for his left ear. His fingertips touched the silver earring. No—it was no longer a silver earring. Since that day when Felnak had torn it off, there should have been nothing in his left ear. But his fingertips had certainly touched a small ornament. Victoria's hair ornament. The gold-worked ornament she had used to tie up her own hair. That night, covered in blood and tears, she had fastened it to Kuro's ear. (I can do nothing but wait.) A hot, turbid thing swirled in Kuro's chest. Neither loyalty nor love—an inexplicable possessiveness seared the pit of his stomach. The carriage stopped. "I'm going." Victoria reached out to Kuro. With her fingertips, she touched the ornament at his ear. "With this, no matter where you are, everyone will know you're mine." That voice was sweet, and cold. Kuro's heart leaped. But he endured it. "...Go safely, my lady." Composure, with all his might. Victoria stroked his cheek once, lightly. Then she had the carriage door opened. Into the noble district at night, a woman in jet-black stepped down. The heat of the evening party, the music, the laughter. All of it wavered for an instant at her entrance. ***** The great hall of the Orcott Ducal Estate was a flood of light. Three enormous chandeliers suspended from the ceiling burned two thousand candles, illuminating the blue silk wall hangings. Beneath them, nobles chatted with glasses in hand, servants carried silver trays, and young ladies fluttered their colorful dresses. The music was a string quartet. A brilliant waltz flowed elegantly beneath the conversation and laughter. "—Who is that, I wonder?" "A face I've never seen. But my, how... beautiful." "Better not get close. That aura—she's no ordinary person." Victoria, clad in the jet-black dress, slowly swept her gaze across the entrance of the great hall. Her face was disguised by magic. The color of her amethyst eyes was now a gentle blue-violet. The contours of her face, the position of her cheekbones, the shape of her lips—all were similar to, yet different from, the former Victoria Valentine. The sharpness of a warrior woman tempered on the battlefield had been repainted into the softness of a single flower blooming at an evening party. But there were things that could not be changed. Her bearing. The way her back stood straight. And the indescribable pressure radiating from her entire body. (Duke Orcott. You invited me. As the empress of the underworld. The ducal house wished to see the face of the Violet Lightning Empress. Not knowing that your half-amused curiosity will strangle your own neck.) Victoria advanced toward the center of the great hall with a leisurely stride. The crowd parted with a stir. Everyone saw her. No one recognized her true identity. But no one could take their eyes off her. "Oh, my, my. Just as the rumors said—no, surpassing the rumors." A portly, middle-aged nobleman approached, his sweat glistening. Duke Orcott. The host of the evening party, a great noble occupying one corner of the four great ducal houses. But in his face floated a vulgar light, as if appraising Victoria. "Forgive me. The etiquette of the nobility has become a distant world to me." Victoria smiled. Her disguised face produced a truly lovely, poison-free smile. Duke Orcott blinked, then laughed heartily. "Ha ha ha. For one who is the Violet Lightning Empress, you are too modest. Come, come, have a drink. Please, take your time tonight." His lewd gaze crawled over her chest as if licking it. Victoria silently ignored that gaze as if it were mere air. (You are prepared, I assume.) She murmured quietly in her heart. Her habitual phrase. The words that naturally spilled from her lips when her anger reached its peak. It was not yet that time. But that time was certainly approaching. ***** She moved slowly through the great hall. The curious stares of the nobles. The jealous gazes of the young ladies. The ulterior motives of the men. All of it clung to Victoria's skin. (This sensation—how nostalgic.) Once, as the daughter of the Valentine ducal house, she had attended such evening parties countless times. In those days, with her family, her attendants, and—that person who had been a candidate for her betrothal. (My parents said they wanted me to have a love marriage. The Valentine house does not concern itself with the status of a betrothal partner. So that person was, at most, a candidate. If I wished it, I could refuse at any time.) The music changed from the waltz to something else. To her ears, that sound seemed terribly distant. "—A beautiful woman. I wondered who it might be." A low, sweet voice was cast from directly behind her. Victoria did not turn around; she waited for the owner of that voice. Footsteps. Light, yet with the stride of a certain ruler. "To wear the night itself at such an evening party. You suit the night better than anyone I have ever known." The man stood diagonally behind her. Golden hair. Arranged to flow backward, without a single strand out of place. Blue eyes like a clear sky. But deep within them lurked, unmistakably, the coldness of a predator appraising its prey. Leonhart Valmheit. First Prince of the Kingdom of Aldarv. Victoria's heart stopped. No—it stopped only for an instant, then immediately pounded with a great thud. Beneath her breast, behind her sternum. The voice of the man who had fabricated suspicions of treason, destroyed the Valentine house, and sent her parents to the executioner's scaffold was right at her ear. (I want to kill him.) The pores on her arms opened. A faint numbness in her fingertips. The violet lightning was about to rampage within her body. (Now, here, this man—) But Victoria sealed that impulse with a smile. "Oh my. To be spoken to directly by His Highness the First Prince—what an honor." Her disguised voice was alluring and cloyingly sweet. Not her own voice. Leonhart smiled with satisfaction. "It is I who am honored. There is no way I would overlook someone like you." He moved around to face her directly. His blue eyes crawled over her entire body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, as if violating her with his gaze. "I heard from Duke Orcott. That you are the Violet Lightning Empress who rules the underworld." "And what of it?" She tilted her head. Leonhart's lips twisted into a smile. "No, I'm delighted. You understand how tedious the nobles of this kingdom are, don't you? Manners, etiquette, bloodlines—it's tiresome. But you are different. You are—the real thing." His hand reached out smoothly. A man's arm wrapped around Victoria's waist from behind. "—!" Her heart leaped violently. It was not fear. It was nausea. Her internal organs surged up into her throat. Leonhart pulled her body toward him. "You are mine." His lips drew close to her ear and breathed a whisper like sweet poison. The surrounding nobles held their breath. Everyone watched from a distance the fortune—or misfortune—of a woman who could become the mistress of the First Prince of the Kingdom of Aldarv. (This man just declared me, now, to be his possession.) Goosebumps rose across Victoria's entire body. His fingertips slowly stroked up the curve of her waist. That sensation was as unpleasant as acid melting her skin. (He tried to destroy me. He killed my family. And that very person is now trying to make me his mistress.) Laughter welled up. But it did not become sound. Her lips formed only a perfect smile. Victoria gently removed Leonhart's hand from her waist and stepped back. "Your Highness. I belong to no one." A cold voice. Yet the smile did not vanish. Leonhart's eyes briefly took on a dangerous light. "Oh? An interesting woman. You defy me?" "Perish the thought. For someone like me to defy Your Highness—I could not presume such an audacious thing." She raised her left hand. Slender, long fingers. The ring finger was still empty. She slowly turned that hand before Leonhart's eyes. "Your Highness. I have something interesting." "Oh? Show me." Victoria produced a small ring from her bosom. A ring with a deep green gemstone set in a silver mounting. "I had this specially commissioned from a certain poison-maker. It is a curious piece, as if the darkness of night were sealed within the gem." She quietly slipped the ring onto the ring finger of Leonhart's right hand. The ring slid over the joint of his finger and settled at the base. As if it had belonged there from the very beginning. Leonhart savored, with an ecstatic expression, the sensation of a beautiful woman touching his finger. "A poison-maker, is it. A dangerous woman. But that dangerous fragrance is, in itself, bewitching." He raised his right hand and gazed at the ring. "The color of this gem remind

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Episode 5

Name: The Violet Lightning Empress Dons Golden Armor and Dotes on Her Sole Servant
Author: Novelia

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