The Clear Sky Before the Rain

She didn’t have the courage to say the remaining words—“Would you be willing to go with me?”—out loud.
But the look in her eyes already said everything.

For a first official date, choosing the Tagore Opera House was indeed a popular option among young couples in Servia.

Seeing how cautious and tentative she looked, Black replied gently, “I’m free.”

Those two simple words made Kristine’s smile bloom like spring flowers, radiant enough to dazzle the eye.

“Then it’s settled!!” Her voice lifted with excitement. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll meet at the entrance of the Tagore Opera House!”
She even waved at Black cutely. “See you tomorrow, Black!”

As if afraid that lingering even a second longer would expose more of her shyness, she turned and jogged lightly toward the direction of the count’s residence.

Black remained where he was, watching that slender figure leave. The gentle expression on his face faded, leaving only a dull heaviness behind.

He knew very well that tomorrow’s date was destined never to happen.

If nothing unexpected occurred, within a few hours the news of Count Alvin’s death at Swan Lake would sweep through the entire city of Servia, spreading to every street and alley. Kristine, upon learning of her father’s tragic death, would have no mood left for a date.

For now, all he could do was take things one step at a time. He also needed to return and make preparations as thoroughly as possible.

****

Everything unfolded exactly as Black had expected.

By evening, news of Count Alvin’s death at Swan Lake had already made the front pages of all major newspapers and spread throughout Servia.

The reports were written with chilling clarity: “…According to the knight order’s on-site investigation and preliminary autopsy, a fatal penetrating wound suspected to have been caused by a sharp weapon was found in Count Alvin’s chest…” “At the same time, a highly toxic substance—Blood-Erosion Incense—was detected in his body. At present, it remains unclear whether the count died first from the penetrating wound or from the poison’s onset…” “The nature of this case is extremely severe, with widespread impact. The knight order has joined forces with the Dragon-Slaying Guard to conduct a comprehensive investigation…”

Just a few lines outlined a cold-blooded murder.

Once the news spread, the entire city of Servia—especially the noble circles—was thrown into shock.

Alvin was no ordinary count. His family was a prestigious noble house with more than a century of history in the imperial capital, deeply rooted and widely connected, with influence that could not be underestimated. Alvin himself was also a senior professor at the empire’s highest institution, Dragonheart Academy. While the title of count might not be exceptional in the capital, a count qualified to teach at Dragonheart Academy was exceedingly rare.

Most importantly, his only daughter was the current Saintess of the Church of Creation. This identity bound Alvin tightly to the Church. Noble patriarch, academy professor, father of the Saintess—these three identities combined gave Alvin’s death a weight far beyond imagination. To kill him was to offend half the noble circle, Dragonheart Academy, and the Church of Creation all at once.

After learning of the professor’s murder, Dragonheart Academy’s upper administration was furious and publicly declared they would join the investigation to bring the culprit to justice as soon as possible.

At that very moment, Kristine knew nothing of the storm raging outside her window.

She sat at the desk in her bedroom with a notebook spread open before her, an uncontrollable smile lingering at the corner of her lips as she carefully planned tomorrow’s date with a feather pen—what time to leave, which coat to wear, whether to stroll by the lake after the opera or visit the newly opened dessert shop.

Just then, urgent knocking shattered the quiet.
Knock, knock, knock!

Kristine jumped in fright, the pen scratching an abrupt line across the page. She frowned slightly and called out, “Please come in.”

The door was pushed open forcefully. A maid stood at the entrance, her face pale as paper, lips trembling uncontrollably. She looked at Kristine and opened her mouth, but it was as though something had seized her throat and no sound would come out.

Seeing the maid like this, Kristine’s heart sank as a sudden sense of foreboding rose within her. “What’s wrong? What happened?” she asked, standing up, her voice unconsciously tightening.

The maid only shook her head and pointed toward the courtyard downstairs.

Kristine’s heartbeat skipped. Without thinking, she gathered her skirts and rushed out of the room, nearly stumbling as she ran down the stairs and into the courtyard.

The courtyard was already filled with people—knights in silver armor and Dragon-Slaying Guards in black uniforms, standing silently on either side with grave expressions. The air felt frozen, heavy enough to suffocate.

Kristine stopped beneath the corridor. In that instant, the blood in her veins seemed to freeze. At the center of the courtyard lay a human-shaped outline covered by a white cloth.

No… that couldn’t be…

All strength drained from her body, her legs weakening, yet she forced herself forward step by step toward the white cloth.

A knight captain stepped forward, removed his helmet, and bowed slightly. His voice was low. “Please accept our condolences, Saintess. Count Alvin was murdered and died by the shores of Swan Lake.”

Every word struck Kristine like a hammer. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints as she stood frozen, as if struck by lightning.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally moved, inch by inch, to the white cloth. Her trembling fingers grasped its edge and slowly lifted it.

A familiar face came into view—her father, Alvin.

“Fa…ther…?” she murmured numbly, reaching out to touch his cheek. The icy stiffness that met her fingers surged straight through her body, freezing all thought.

With a dull thud, Kristine collapsed to her knees. She made no sound, her shoulders trembling violently as tears streamed down in silence.

Her father—the man who had been strict, yet always the most revered figure in her heart—had become a cold corpse just like that. It was absurd, cruel, and impossible to accept. Overwhelming grief swallowed her whole, and the happiness she had only just grasped that day was shattered effortlessly by reality.

At that moment, hurried footsteps came rushing from the main residence. Countess Mona arrived in the courtyard, still dressed in a simple house robe, her hair slightly disheveled. When she saw her husband’s lifeless face, her entire body shook.

“Alvin!”

She threw herself beside the corpse, clutching his cold hand tightly and sobbing, her cries tearing through the air. Anyone watching could feel the heart-rending pain of a wife who had lost her husband.

Yet no one noticed that when Mona covered her mouth, it wasn’t merely to suppress grief—but to hide the smile she could not contain. Deep in her eyes flickered unrestrained ecstasy.

With Alvin dead, control of the entire family had finally fallen into her hands.