The Frozen Dining Table

At last, I fled from the changing room, a space saturated with the scent of lavender, the lingering warmth of young girls, and an overwhelming excess of pampering.

As I emerged from the S-class building, Ella and Beatrix trailed behind me, resembling two formidable guardian deities.

A peculiar satisfaction, almost a radiant invigoration, adorned both their faces, as if they had just fulfilled a sacred, divine mission.

I, however, felt utterly drained, like a small white mouse licked clean from head to tail by two large, predatory felines.

“This is far enough,” I stated.

Before stepping into my carriage, I decisively halted their eager attempts to escort me all the way back to the ducal mansion.

“I need to return and rest. And you both… perhaps try to compose yourselves.”

“Yes! We eagerly await our reunion tomorrow morning!” Ella declared, waving her hand with fervent energy.

“I shall maintain an all-night vigil, ensuring no slanderous whispers dare to sully your esteemed reputation,” Beatrix vowed.

Beatrix, hand resting on her sword hilt, wore an expression of grim determination.

With a decisive thud, I slammed the carriage door shut, effectively isolating myself from those two exasperating individuals.

The carriage began to move, slowly at first.

Leaning back against the plush cushions, I watched the receding landscape outside the window and exhaled a long, weary sigh.

Within the confines of this academy, I now found myself surrounded by a Saintess, a Knight, and a Witch.

The only sanctuary offering a semblance of peace, I realized, was likely my own home—chillingly austere, perhaps, but at least no one there dared to casually lay a hand on me.

However, my relief, it seemed, was entirely premature.

As the carriage passed through the towering iron gates of the Eckhart Ducal Mansion and drew to a halt before the main building’s portico,

Sebastian, the venerable butler, had already been awaiting my arrival for some time.

This white-haired, solemn old gentleman, after opening the carriage door for me, did not, as was his custom, lead me directly to my chambers.

Instead, he executed a deep, deferential bow, then uttered words that instantly stiffened every muscle in my body:

“My Lady,” he announced, “the Master awaits you in the dining room. He said… he wishes to dine with you this evening.”

‘The Master.’

‘Duke Eckhart.’

The Grand Chancellor of this nation, the man famously known as the “Iron-Blooded Duke,” was also one of the ultimate antagonists in the original game.

He was, moreover, Lilliana’s own biological father.

My heart abruptly constricted within my chest.

In my memory, this father was exceptionally severe and cold, his expectations for Lilliana reaching an almost pathological degree.

A significant portion of the original owner’s twisted personality stemmed from her desperate attempts to capture this father’s fleeting attention.

For me, in my current predicament, he represented the single greatest risk of exposure.

‘…Calm down.’

‘I am Lilliana. I am his daughter.’

‘As long as I remain silent, maintaining an air of cool aloofness, it should… be fine, right?’

With a dread akin to walking to the gallows, I followed the butler into the dining room.

The dining room was ridiculously, almost impossibly, vast.

The elongated dining table, by visual estimation, stretched at least ten meters in length.

Duke Eckhart sat solitary at the head of the imposing table.

He was clad in a dark, formal suit, his black hair, threaded with a few strands of silver, meticulously groomed.

His sharply chiseled face remained utterly devoid of expression.

His red eyes, bearing a faint resemblance to my own, were like congealed blood, radiating an almost suffocating aura of dominance.

Even as he merely sat there, carving his steak, the sheer intensity of his presence was enough to halt the heartbeat of any living creature within a five-meter radius.

“…Father,” I began, “good day.”

I walked to the opposite end of the table, a full ten meters away, lifted the hem of my skirt, and performed a perfectly executed curtsy.

The Duke’s knife and fork stilled in his grasp.

He slowly raised his head, his crimson eyes fixing upon me with an unyielding intensity across the vast expanse of the dining table.

Silence.

A suffocating, oppressive silence.

Just as I braced myself for a reprimand regarding my recent ‘misconduct’ at the academy, he finally broke the stillness.

“…Sit,” he commanded.

His voice was low, curt, and utterly devoid of inflection.

“Yes, Father.”

I hesitantly took my seat. Immediately, a servant glided forward to place an appetizer before me.

For the next ten minutes, the only sounds within the vast dining room were the faint, intermittent clinks of cutlery against porcelain.

The atmosphere was so profoundly oppressive that I felt as though I wasn’t slicing meat, but rather my own frayed nerves.

At last, the Duke spoke once more.

“I have heard,” he stated, “that you… unleashed Chaos within the academy.”

The hand gripping my knife gave an involuntary tremor.

Indeed, nothing could escape the notice of the Grand Chancellor, a man who commanded the nation’s entire intelligence network.

“…Yes,” I managed.

I offered no denial, striving to keep my voice as steady and level as possible.

“Because… I required silence.”

It was an utterly perfunctory reason, I knew.

I braced myself for a scathing lecture, for accusations of ‘foolishness’ and ‘lacking proper judgment’.

Yet, the Duke did not scold me.

He carved a piece of beef, brought it to his mouth, chewed, and swallowed with deliberate slowness.

Then, from a face as impassive as stone, he uttered a single, understated word:

“…Excellent.”

‘Eh?’

I froze, momentarily convinced I had misheard him.

‘Excellent?’

‘Was he… praising me?’

“Since you possess power,” the Duke continued, his gaze fixed on the candelabra, “you must understand how to wield it.”

The Duke did not glance my way, instead staring intently at the candelabra before him, his tone remaining frigid.

“Whether it be that useless Prince, or those clamoring lesser beings… if they obstruct your path, silence them. Such is the true manner of the Eckhart family.”

I blinked, utterly bewildered.

‘Wait a moment, Father, have you perhaps… misunderstood something fundamentally?’

‘I merely released my magical pressure to read in peace, not to orchestrate some grand political demonstration!’

‘Yet, in his perception…’

‘I had likely transformed into an exemplary heir, one who perfectly embodied his ruthless bloodline and understood how to crush royal authority with sheer power…’

While not inherently a negative outcome, it certainly diverged wildly from my initial expectations.

“…Furthermore,” the Duke added.

The Duke set aside his knife and fork, then retrieved a napkin to delicately blot the corners of his mouth.

His piercing gaze once again settled upon me.

This time, his eyes held a peculiar, awkward emotion I couldn’t quite decipher.

“I am also informed,” he continued, “that you lent Orlando’s Ancestral Travelogue from the family archives… to a commoner?”

‘Oh no!’

‘Was this the crucial point?!’

‘Unauthorized lending of a family heirloom—that was a grave offense!’

My heart clenched, and my mind raced, desperately attempting to concoct a plausible explanation.

“That was… for the purpose of…” I stammered.

“To win favor, perhaps?” the Duke interjected.

The Duke cut me off.

His gaze remained fixed on me.

Upon his stern features, a faint, almost imperceptible curve of appreciation appeared, a sight exceedingly rare.

“To exchange an old book, utterly useless to our house, for the loyalty of a Saintess possessing extraordinary light-attribute talent… Lilliana, your foresight extends far beyond what I had previously imagined.”

‘…’

I remained silent, utterly speechless.

‘I genuinely only thought that book might suit her interests.’

‘Truly.’

Yet, in the eyes of this father, whose mind was perpetually steeped in political machinations, my simple act of a librarian had clearly been reinterpreted as a shrewd, far-sighted political investment.

“Since you have already commenced your strategic planning…” the Duke began.

As he spoke, the Duke retrieved an exquisite black velvet box, emblazoned with the family crest, from within his formal wear.

He did not hand it directly to me; the table, after all, was far too long.

Instead, he placed it on the polished tabletop, then gave it a gentle push.

The box, much like a curling stone, glided with perfect precision along the smooth surface for ten meters, coming to a steady halt right by my hand.

“…Open it,” he instructed.

I swallowed hard, then cautiously opened the box.

Inside, nestled serenely, lay a…

‘A ring?’

The ring was entirely black, its material appearing to be the same obsidian as my Book of the Nameless.

A deep violet gem was set within it, radiating a disquieting ripple of magical energy.

“This is…?” I murmured, intrigued.

“The ‘Eye of the Abyss’,” the Duke stated flatly.

“An artifact from the family treasury,” he explained. “It can… amplify your spiritual power, ensuring you won’t suffer backlash when perusing those troublesome texts.”

My eyes instantly gleamed with a sudden, intense light.

‘Amplify spiritual power?’

‘Prevent backlash?’

‘Isn’t this precisely the ‘anti-addiction eyewear’ I desperately need right now?!’

‘With this, I would no longer suffer headaches while delving into the Book of the Nameless!’

“It is for you,” the Duke declared.

The Duke averted his gaze, raising his wine glass to take a sip, almost as if to mask some unseen emotion.

“Do not allow trivial matters like reading to compromise your health. The Eckhart family cannot afford such an embarrassment.”

Though his words conveyed concern, spoken from his lips, they sounded more like an administrative decree forbidding illness.

Yet, I could sense that beneath that icy, iron-blooded exterior, this father…

…was, in fact, expressing his approval and affection for his daughter in an incredibly clumsy and awkward manner.

“…Thank you, Father.”

I picked up the ring and slipped it onto my finger.

The cool touch brought with it a profound sense of reassurance.

My gratitude was truly heartfelt.

Seeing me don the ring, the Duke’s fingers, still clutching his wine glass, relaxed ever so slightly, and a flicker of almost imperceptible relief passed through his eyes.

“You may retire,” he commanded.

He had already reverted to his usual cold expression.

“Do not be late tomorrow.”

“Yes, Father.”

I curtsied and withdrew.

Not until I had exited the dining room and the doors had softly closed behind me,

Did Duke Eckhart, still seated at the head of the table, slowly lower his wine glass.

In that moment, the Iron-Blooded Chancellor, a man who struck fear into the heart of the entire kingdom, allowed a subtle, paternal smile of satisfaction to grace his impassive face.

“…Not only has she suppressed the Prince, but she has also captivated the Saintess and the heir to the Knight Order,” he murmured to the empty seat opposite him.

“My daughter… she has finally grown up.”

“It seems… that plan can be initiated ahead of schedule.”

Standing nearby, the aged butler Sebastian bowed deeply, his eyes gleaming with fervent admiration.

“Indeed, Master. My Lady… is destined to become a true Dark Sovereign, one who will surpass even you.”

Completely oblivious to being envisioned as a ‘future Dark Sovereign’ by my own father and the butler, I hummed a little tune, happily caressing my newly acquired ring as I walked back to my room.

With this divine artifact, I could finally finish the second chapter of the Book of the Nameless tonight!

As for political maneuvering, winning hearts…

‘What even is that?’

‘Can it be eaten?’

I simply wished to be a quiet, book-loving maiden in this boisterous world.

However, fate clearly had other plans for me.

For the instant I pushed open my bedroom door, I sensed a familiar, playful gaze.

Perched on the windowsill, a black raven tilted its head, watching me.

Its eyes were the color of amethyst.

“It seems you’ve received quite a lovely gift, Lilliana,” the raven croaked, its voice, however, was Chloe’s, tinged with amusement.

“So… as a celebration, would you care to hear the intelligence I’ve prepared for you?”

“Regarding… His Royal Highness’s impending counterattack, that is.”