If Oliver had merely been an imperial spy,
If he had shown a trace of remorse for the current state of affairs,
Perhaps Iris might have granted him another chance.
But what Iris could never forgive—what truly severed any hope—was this:
‘He treated human life as worthless.’
The corrupted Snow Chains he distributed had reaped countless innocent lives.
So many nameless souls were snuffed out, turned into stardust, all because of one man.
And despite knowing the carnage it would cause, Oliver had committed his treachery without a shred of hesitation.
“The Baron shall pay the price for the sins he has wrought.”
There was no room in Iris’s heart for forgiveness toward such a man.
“I assume you acted on your own will. Then you must understand your own guilt best.”
At Vincent’s signal, the palace guards slowly stepped into the chamber.
Though the matron’s office was wide, the entryway only allowed a few cultivators in at a time.
To execute the perfect suppression, the knights moved with practiced caution.
Just then, Oliver, drowned in despair, slowly rose with a dazed expression.
Everything had been exposed—his fate sealed.
He was, in essence, already a dead man.
‘If that’s how it is—’
A crimson gleam flooded his eyes.
He suddenly snapped his head up and charged forward, blade raised toward Iris.
“Don’t come any closer!”
A black dagger, sharp and menacing, had appeared in his grasp at some unknown point.
The guards halted mid-step at his sudden aggression—just enough time for him to seize Iris as a hostage.
‘If anything goes wrong…’
Ludwig had said so when he dispatched Oliver to this mission.
‘Kill her.’
Grinding his teeth, Oliver shouted with trembling rage,
“D-Don’t move! Any funny business and I swear, I won’t go down alone!”
But the hand that held the blade trembled with exhaustion.
Keeping one’s stance with a weapon wasn’t easy—especially for someone like Oliver, who had never trained in cultivation or martial arts.
Though being held hostage, Iris calmly looked down at the blade pressed near her.
‘Obsidian blade.’
She could have avoided it if she wished.
But obsidian weapons were volatile—prone to exploding when handled improperly.
That was why she had allowed herself to be seized.
If he lost control and swung in panic, the damage would be worse.
‘I still need this man.’
She hadn’t extracted all she needed from him yet.
Unlike Iris, who remained composed, Vincent and the knights grew increasingly tense.
“Taking My Lady hostage won’t guarantee your survival.”
“Shut up!”
Oliver pressed the blade harder against Iris’s head, voice cracking.
“Just listen to what I have to say!”
“Do you truly believe this will resolve anything?”
Iris, still calm despite the knife at her throat, questioned him.
“You’re only making it worse.”
“Hah… Y-You think I didn’t consider that?”
His voice trembled strangely.
It was painfully clear to everyone—he had no plan.
“Before that happens, I’ll just kill you and run. That’s it!”
“Kill her?”
Cedric’s voice cut through the tense air like a sword.
He stepped forward, parting the knights, his tone ice-cold.
“You? Kill my wife?”
His face was emotionless, yet beneath it simmered a chilling fury.
The aura of a Sword Master flared from him like a tempest, making Oliver’s face drain of color.
If this continued, the pressure alone would knock him out.
Before he lost consciousness, Iris softly asked:
“Do you regret your sins?”
“W-What trick are you trying to pull?! I’m the one holding your life right now!”
“Is that so.”
With a swift movement, Iris slammed her elbow into his solar plexus and jerked her head to the side.
“Gahhk!”
Oliver cried out in pain, the dagger flying from his grasp.
Even the knights were stunned.
The speed at which it all happened was beyond what even seasoned cultivators could react to.
The blade grazed a strand of her hair as it flew—its obsidian surface glowing ominously, on the verge of detonating.
Iris snatched it midair with sharp precision, reversing its grip and pressing it to Oliver’s throat.
“Now, it seems I’m the one holding your life in my hands.”
The razor edge lightly scratched his neck, drawing a thin line of blood.
Oliver trembled in pain and disbelief, eyes wide as he looked up at her.
“H-How…?”
“Think carefully.”
Iris whispered coolly, slowly dragging the blade along his neck.
“How far did Emperor Ludwig’s orders go?”
“H-He told me… to make sure the North never stabilizes… to stir chaos through deception…”
And in that moment—
A strange glow overtook Oliver’s face.
Letters shimmered in the air like divine scripture.
The pages marked with “Oliver Episode” split apart, revealing a new sequence of golden script unfurling like sprouts from sacred soil:
[“You failed again? Didn’t you say it was flawless?”
The Emperor seized the royal chamberlain by the neck and hurled him to the ground.
“And the Hellis Wheel? What madness did you unleash this time!”
]**
Bruised and battered after being thrown to the ground, the palace steward bowed low as he reported.
“This product was newly crafted through a collaboration between the Leontheim Duchy and the Aurora Trading Guild. However, there’s little demand for it in the capital…”
“That’s your excuse?!”
The steward couldn’t lift his head under the Emperor’s wrath.
Iris’s eyes widened slightly as she read the novel’s current state.
‘They mentioned the Helis Wheel.’
The
Helis Wheel
—a spiritual heat-conducting rubber wheel—was something Iris had crafted by refining
Helis flowers
during her standoff with Oliver.
‘It wasn’t even ready for commercial release—it was still in the formation stage.’
The storyline had shifted—
in her favor
.
“Agh!”
While Iris had briefly let her guard down in shock, Cedric closed the distance and knocked Oliver unconscious with a precise strike from his sheathed blade—carefully avoiding the obsidian dagger Oliver had been hiding.
Cedric pulled Iris into a protective embrace, his voice still brimming with suppressed fury.
“What in the world happened here?”
Though she had nearly been injured, everything had worked out in the end. Iris thought quietly to herself.
“Don’t worry. Everything is resolved now.”
“What part of this do you call ‘resolved’?!”
Cedric’s voice cracked as he held her tighter.
Only then did Iris realize it—Cedric had been truly afraid.
“If you had been hurt… then for me, nothing would have been resolved.”
Of course, she could have protected herself—but throwing oneself into danger was an entirely different matter.
“…Thank you. For saving me.”
So Iris chose only to express her sincere gratitude.
Vincent, who had handed the unconscious Oliver over to the Knights and was finishing the cleanup, let out a long sigh.
They had captured the Emperor’s spy and a notorious swindler—an urgent matter settled at last.
“…But how are we going to supply
Snow Chains
now?”
With the increasingly bitter cold of the coming winter on his mind, Vincent already felt the weight pressing down on him.
After a moment’s hesitation, Iris quietly raised her hand.
“If I may… would you hear my thoughts?”
The narrative had changed.
And trusting in that single shift, Iris spoke up.
“I believe I can develop a substitute. A replacement for the Snow Chain.”
Seated deeply in his throne, Emperor
Ludwig
stared at the paper on his desk.
The headline of today’s morning edition screamed across the front page:
[Baron Hansen Arrested in Leontheim for Fraud and Tax Evasion.]
He hadn’t held high expectations for the man to begin with, but this betrayal struck deeply.
‘He must be executed. Buying off the prison guards would be difficult... yes, a curse would be cleaner.’
With a calm expression hiding his dark thoughts, Ludwig continued reading the article.
His crimson eyes, flickering with darkness, stopped abruptly on one name:
[Duchess Consort of Leontheim.]
It was she who had played a vital role in this incident—perhaps the very ally he’d been searching for.
‘Come to think of it… I’ve never even seen her face.’
Strangely, Ludwig found himself unable to look away from her name.
Chapter 4: A Person Who Shines Even Through Wounds
Scratch, scratch. Drop—
As Iris signed documents, she blinked awkwardly. Her cheek stung a little.
Finally, she stuck the quill back into the ink pot and looked up.
Cedric, chin resting on one hand, was watching her.
“…Is there ink on my face?”
“No.”
“Then do you have something to say…?”
“Every time I so much as glance away, you end up in danger.”
Normally, Iris would have brushed such comments aside, but this time, she couldn’t.
Last time, she collapsed from poor health. This time—though it had gone according to plan—things could have gone fatally wrong.
‘Even though it’s been over a week…’
Cedric had stayed by her side, handling only the bare minimum of his own duties.
Though he had once looked at her in awe, saying,
“How can you keep working without rest?”
, Iris knew the truth:
She should be the one in awe.
Cedric was, by no measure, a diligent man.
‘Please, seriously. If this keeps up, we’re doomed. Do you want me to lose my job at this age?!’
Vincent had finally broken down and come running in tears. Cedric had reluctantly accepted the paperwork with a sigh.
‘Strictly speaking, your unemployment has nothing to do with me.’
He always had to get in one last jab, provoking Vincent’s fury.
And yet—this was where the surprise came in.
His work was perfect.
Sometimes, he spotted things even Iris had missed.
What she spent all day poring over, Cedric could skim through and catch in a single glance.
‘He’s incredible.’
Iris looked at Cedric with genuine awe.
Unlike her, who couldn’t bear such direct gazes, Cedric met her eyes calmly.
“…Why are you staring? Do I look that good?”
“Yes. Truly.”