Chapter 126: ¹²⁶The King’s Transformation
Ethan let out a slightly heavy breath. He finally pulled himself back.
The air inside Isolde’s study felt sticky, thick with the heavy scent of lust and the intoxicating residue of Sin Mana. The three women lay limp around him. Their nervous systems had been utterly shattered by the Demon King’s absolute dominance just moments ago.
Without a single word, Ethan rose to his feet.
He picked up his black shirt from the hardwood floor, slipping it back on with slow, measured movements. His fingers fastened each silver button one by one. His cold, untouchable aura instantly returned, completely swallowing the lingering storm of passion in the room.
After draping his dark coat over his shoulders, the young man strode toward the carved wooden chair near the mahogany desk. He leaned back, his dark brown eyes glancing at the dying embers in the fireplace.
With a snap of his fingers and a subtle manipulation of mana, a fresh candle flared to life on the desk, banishing the dense shadows stretching across the stone walls.
"Ngh..." Isolde von Rosenberg was the first to gather what was left of her consciousness.
𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮
The Ice Archmage moved with trembling fingers. She picked up her dark blue silk nightgown, slipping it on slowly to cover her voluptuous figure and the glowing black rose root tattoo on her back. Her gold-rimmed spectacles still lay on the desk. She left them untouched.
Seeing the lady of the house begin to rise, Kaelia and Valera forced themselves up as well.
Kaelia hurriedly straightened her dark red tunic. The girl’s face was still burning crimson, and she averted her gaze to the corner of the room as a fresh wave of embarrassment assaulted her.
On the other side, Valera retrieved her black leather armor in silence. She strapped on her weapon belt, even though her right hand, wrapped in black bandages, felt a little stiff.
Ethan sat silently in his chair. He waited until Isolde took her seat on the black leather sofa just a meter away from him.
A heavy silence hung in the air. The only sound was the soft crackling of the fireplace.
Kaelia collapsed onto the other end of the sofa, keeping her distance from Isolde. Meanwhile, Valera chose to stand, leaning her back against the stone wall.
"How long have you known King Evander, Isolde?"
The question slipped suddenly from Ethan’s lips. His tone was incredibly flat. There was no small talk, no lingering warmth from their wild entanglement just minutes prior.
Isolde’s body gave a subtle jolt. Her icy blue eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Her brain was forced into overdrive, shifting gears from the afterglow of lust to a political interrogation.
"I-I..." Isolde cleared her throat softly, trying to soothe her raspy voice. "I’ve known him since I was a child, Master. Around ten years old. My father used to bring me to Veylor Castle for the central noble family gatherings."
Ethan crossed one leg over his knee, resting his chin on his hand. The candlelight danced in his dark eyes. "What was King Evander like back then?"
Isolde fell silent for a moment. She dug into her old memories, brushing aside the fog of submission from the Lust Brand to give as objective an answer as possible.
"He was a very stern figure," Isolde murmured softly, staring straight at the hardwood floor. "A wise and highly respected ruler."
The elegant woman swallowed hard. "Yet, every word that came out of his mouth carried immense weight. The Crown of Astrea under his leadership back then was a symbol of absolute justice for both nobles and commoners alike."
Ethan didn’t shift his posture in the slightest. "And now?"
At that follow-up question, Isolde’s pale fingers anxiously intertwined in her lap, clutching the silk fabric of her gown. "He is... different, Master." Her voice dropped an octave, laden with a long-suppressed bewilderment.
Hearing the direction this conversation was taking, the atmosphere in the room instantly stiffened.
At the edge of the sofa, Kaelia tensed. The red-haired girl furrowed her brows, staring intently at Isolde. Discussing the King’s temperament behind closed doors was an act of treason.
In the corner of the room, Valera immediately straightened up. Her golden eyes sharpened. The knight knew full well that behind the marble walls of this Capital, information was far more lethal than a Zweihander’s strike.
"Explain what you mean by ’different’," Ethan ordered lowly, though the sheer gravity of his voice compelled Isolde to keep speaking.
Isolde let out a long sigh. "The change didn’t happen overnight, Master. It started about seven years ago."
Seven years ago. The gears in Ethan’s head immediately began to turn.
"At first, no one really noticed," Isolde continued. "King Evander started smiling more often. He appeared much calmer and rarely raised his voice during council meetings."
"Sounds like an old man finding peace," Ethan interjected coldly, deliberately testing her argument.
"Physically, yes," Isolde countered gently, working up the courage to look at Ethan. "However, his political decisions were completely at odds with that peaceful smile. Everything felt... off."
"Off how?"
"Taxes for the outer territories were raised, slowly but surely. The protection laws binding the central nobles were loosened. They were allowed to act as they pleased, so long as they paid enough tribute to the Crown."
Isolde pressed her lips together for a moment. "Then, many loyal senior ministers were suddenly replaced by new faces. People with dirty track records, but who possessed blind loyalty to him."
"Did the Rosenberg faction protest this?" Ethan asked.
"Not openly," Isolde answered quickly. "Alaric... his survival instincts are incredibly sharp. He often told me in private that the man currently sitting on the Veylor throne feels like a stranger."
Isolde looked down again. "But Alaric hasn’t acted because there isn’t a single shred of solid proof. It’s all just a gut feeling."
Ethan fell silent. He digested every piece of that information. Seven years ago. A timeframe that closely aligned with the period his parents were killed.
The young man rose from his chair. He walked slowly past Kaelia, stopping in front of the window.
Ethan drew the heavy curtain aside slightly. His eyes stared coldly out at the courtyard of the Rosenberg estate, heavily guarded by armored soldiers.
"Did you personally sense anything strange about him, Isolde?" Ethan asked without looking back.
"Many senior nobles have felt it, Master. An unnaturalness that crawls under your skin every time he speaks. But... no one dares to voice it."
"Why?"
"Because King Evander has never made a mistake that can be proven!" Isolde’s voice was filled with pent-up frustration. "He never explodes in anger. Executions are always carried out with flawlessly prepared legal backing."
Isolde hugged her own arms. "The change was too subtle. Like poison injected drop by drop. By the time we realized it, the venom had already taken over the entire heart of the Palace."
Ethan released the curtain, plunging the room back into seclusion. He turned around, staring straight at Isolde with a gaze as cold as polar ice.
"I understand," Ethan stated with absolute finality. He slid both hands into his coat pockets. "From now on, recall every little detail of King Evander’s changes over the past seven years. Keep a close eye on his movements, but don’t do anything to draw attention."
Isolde immediately stood from the sofa, bowing her head deeply. "Yes, Master. I will carry out your orders."
Ethan’s objectives for tonight had been fulfilled, both in terms of lust and politics. Wasting no time, he strode toward the door.
Seeing her master move, Kaelia immediately trailed behind. Valera, already on standby near the door, twisted the knob, ready to open it for him.
"Master..." Isolde called out softly. Ethan’s footsteps halted right at the threshold.
The Ice Archmage stared at Ethan’s back with a gaze caught between absolute submission and anxiety. "Please, be careful. The man who invited you this afternoon... might not be the same man written about in Astrea’s history."
"Hah..." Ethan glanced over his shoulder. A faint, lethal smirk etched itself onto the corner of his lips.
"If he really has turned into a monster over the past seven years," Ethan replied as cold as ice, "then he’ll soon realize he isn’t the only monster sitting at this dining table."
Without waiting for Isolde’s reply, Ethan stepped out. Valera followed right behind him, pulling the wooden door shut with a soft click. Leaving Isolde all alone in the dimly lit room.
In the dim hallway of the estate, the hunchbacked old servant was still standing by, waiting. The moment he saw Ethan’s group, the old man bowed without uttering a single word.
Ethan walked right past him. The footsteps of his leather boots created a constant rhythm that echoed down the quiet corridor.
Kaelia walked by his side, desperately hiding her flushed cheeks behind a cold, aristocratic expression. Meanwhile, Valera trailed behind, her eyes continuously scanning the shadows of every stone pillar like a predator.
Astrea’s night air instantly greeted them the moment they stepped out the main doors. The late spring chill pierced their clothes, yet it couldn’t cool Ethan’s seething mind.
They climbed into the Valen family’s old wooden carriage. Valera took the driver’s seat, yanked the reins, and spurred the horses through the darkness toward The Gilded Dove.
Inside the dim cabin, the glow of the festival lanterns flickered in, intermittently illuminating Ethan’s face.
The young man leaned back, his eyes half-closed. The red threads in his mind were beginning to connect. A King who had drastically changed over the last seven years. Bizarre decisions. Fear without proof.
This game of chess apparently had far more layers to its board than he’d anticipated. And the enemy in this Capital might just be playing with entirely different pieces.