Liliana covered her eyes, peeking through her fingers with curiosity as she watched the two of them scramble to get dressed.

  Viola was utterly mortified, her face red all the way to her ears, her body frozen stiff. The intimate atmosphere they'd just shared was completely shattered by Liliana's sudden arrival.

  As she clumsily tidied up the bath barrel, Viola kept her head down and spoke in a trembling voice,"Liliana, you're here. Is something wrong?"

  "Nope! What were you guys playing just now? It sounded so fun!"

  Saying that, Liliana cheerfully skipped over to Viola's side, her little face full of innocent delight. In her eyes, the world was still too simple to understand what had really just happened.

  Viola didn't know where to put her hands. She kept her head down and continued wiping the tub, the blush refusing to fade from her cheeks.

  Draven, amused by the whole scene, reached out and pulled Liliana over to his side, tucking her under his arm."Alright, let's go take a walk. Don't bother Sister Viola while she's working."

  "Let me go! I want to play too!" Liliana flailed her limbs wildly, swinging the octagonal lantern in her hand dangerously close to Draven's nose.

  "If you swing that thing one more time, I'm hanging you from the roof beam," Draven threatened, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his fondness.

  He retrieved a specially prepared bundle of leaves from his storage ring and stuffed it into Liliana's little pouch, telling her to go find the treefolk on Mount Flowerfruit.

  Only after coaxing Liliana out of the house did Viola finally get a chance to breathe. She leaned on the edge of the wooden tub, still not entirely relaxed, though the flush on her face was slowly fading.

  Watching Liliana hop away into the distance, Viola let out a soft chuckle and teased,"No wonder she always calls you a big liar."

  Draven shrugged, looking innocent."I never lied to her. Once we find Acorn Oak, you'll understand."

  "I need to talk to Sylvia," Draven said to Viola, his expression turning serious."We can't put off the matter of her identity any longer."

  Viola nodded without asking further questions. Draven could tell that while she was worried, she also knew she couldn't help directly.

  He left the stone house, walked down the narrow path, and entered the house next door. Inside, Martha and Sylvia were sitting on wooden chairs chatting, the atmosphere still lighthearted.

  When she saw him enter, Martha immediately stood and gave a small bow.

  "No need to be so formal," Draven waved his hand."In the Black Flag Territory, we're not big on ceremony. You'll get used to it."

  "Understood, Chief." Martha nodded with a small smile.

  There was a hint of joy on her face. Though she had only recently arrived in the Black Flag Territory, the towering walls, solid houses, and Sylvia's words had all filled her with hope.

  But when she thought of her three younger brothers, a trace of worry resurfaced in her eyes. Seven days—she wasn't sure if that was enough for them to cross the jagged valley.

  Draven didn't say much more. He was focused on more pressing matters, and he motioned for Sylvia to come with him to the main hall.

  Once inside, he immediately turned to face the cat-eared girl and looked straight into her eyes. His tone became especially serious.

  "Sylvia, I need to ask you something. Do you know Freya? Or have you ever had any contact with anyone from the Succubus Clan?"

  Sylvia froze, clearly not expecting this question. She shook her head and replied earnestly,"No. I've never left the Elven Kingdom. The Succubus Clan—there are no such people in our lands."

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "Then have you told anyone else you came here?" Draven frowned."Besides the king and your teacher, who else knows where you are now?"

  Sylvia's expression changed too. She sensed Draven's unease and no longer responded lightly. Instead, she asked seriously,"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

  Draven was silent for a moment. He realized he was being too hasty—Sylvia could already sense his tension.

  He gestured for her to sit, then repeated what he had told Viola earlier, doing his best to keep his voice calm.

  He didn't mention the fight, nor did he bring up how Valeria had tried to seduce him. But the appearance of a succubus and the conversation they'd had were enough to raise red flags.

  "I have to ask you this," Draven said in a low voice."In the Elven Kingdom… you're the only princess, right?"

  Sylvia could tell things were not simple. One look at Draven's expression—eyes clouded with suppressed anxiety and unease—and she no longer had the heart to joke.

  She gently shook her head, her voice dropping low, as if afraid to disturb the air itself.

  "No. I'm the only princess."

  She knew exactly what that answer implied.

  Draven stared at her for a long moment. He looked torn, perhaps reluctant. But in the end, he spoke—softly, yet with crushing weight.

  "Sylvia, you have to leave."

  Sylvia froze. Her heart seemed to skip a beat.

  "Use the twin mirror to contact your father. Have him send someone to pick you up. We can't afford to take any more risks."

  The air turned heavy and still. Sylvia opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Deep down, she knew Draven was right.

  She couldn't afford to be harmed—not here, not in demi-human territory.

  If anything happened, her father would lose his mind, and the Elven Kingdom would never let it go.

  "Alright. I'll contact my father," Sylvia whispered, barely audible. She lowered her head and took out the silver-glinting twin mirror from her waist.

  She hesitated for just a second, then poured her magic into it. Ripples spread across the surface of the mirror like wind over a lake. Soon, a familiar and authoritative face appeared—her father, Sigurd, ruler of the Elven Kingdom.

  "My dear princess, you've finally remembered your father?" Sigurd's tone was light, even playful.

  But Sylvia didn't smile. Her silence immediately chilled the room.

  Sigurd's expression changed in an instant. His eyes narrowed as his relaxed demeanor gave way to sharp vigilance. He noticed the pallor on Sylvia's face, and behind her, the grim-faced werewolf chief.

  "Werewolf, tell me—what happened?" His voice was no longer gentle. It carried a pressure, like a blade drawn in winter.

  Draven rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by the king's tone—but he swallowed it. Now wasn't the time for ego.

  He gave a clear, direct account of everything that had happened—no embellishment, no holding back.

  When he finished, he looked into the mirror and said with a tinge of urgency,

  "Your Majesty, you'd best send your elites here as soon as possible. The sooner the better."

  Sigurd's expression grew darker by the second. His gaze was sharp enough to pierce the mirror, as if seeing the enemy far away in Black Flag Territory.

  Draven could tell the elf king was straining to contain his fury.

  "No succubus would dare go after my daughter without someone behind her," Sigurd said through clenched teeth."This reeks of blood elves."

  He should have seen it coming. The blood elves had been holed up for too long—clearly plotting something. And now, their target was Sylvia.

  Once again, that vile race had shown their true colors.

  Using Sylvia as bait—to provoke the Elven Kingdom into striking the demi-humans, to spark a war… it was exactly the kind of despicable scheme they'd hatch.

  "Disgusting. Filthy scum," Sigurd muttered through gritted teeth, his voice laced with hatred. His eyes seemed to burn with open killing intent.

  Draven stood by silently, sweat trickling down his temple. He swallowed hard, praying the elf king wouldn't redirect that fury at him.

  "Werewolf—protect my daughter," Sigurd said coldly, his tone allowing no argument."I'm sending someone to bring her home immediately."

  "Yes, understood. Also, my name's Draven—"

  Before he could finish, the twin mirror flickered. The image blurred, and the elf king's face vanished entirely.

  Draven blinked at the mirror and muttered,

  "Wait, I wasn't done… I was gonna ask about the seed delivery…"

  He mumbled softly, more to himself than anyone else.

  Sylvia, standing beside him, looked like she had just woken from a nightmare. She glanced at him, her eyes complex—grateful, guilty, maybe even a little sad.

  "I'll remind them. Once I'm back," she said softly.

  "I didn't mean it like that…" Draven scratched his nose, wanting to explain, but the words never came out.

  He watched Sylvia's back as she walked to the door, her pace slow, like each step dragged something heavy behind it.

  He knew she didn't want to leave. Truth was, he didn't want her to go either.

  But he had no choice. He wasn't a king, wasn't anyone powerful. Just a minor werewolf lord whose hands could never truly hold a princess's fate.

  Especially when their enemies might include succubi—or even Selene.

  Once Sylvia left, the hall felt hollow. Draven ran a hand through his hair in frustration, walked out, and looked southward at the sky, filled with a growing sense of unease.

  He gave a low whistle, summoning the Ghost-faced Owl. Moments later, it flapped down and landed in front of him.

  Draven pointed at Selene's statue and instructed the owl to watch the southern border closely. If that silhouette appeared again, he wanted to be the first to know.

  The Ghost-faced Owl flapped its wings, as if understanding, and soared into the sky.