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It was a day of pouring rain.

The funeral of the Emperor of the Hysirion Empire was taking place.

Knights, bearing the Emperor’s coffin in silence, passed through the gates of the imperial palace.

In response, countless people lined the streets, bowing their heads in mourning.

Nobles and commoners alike stood side by side in solemn remembrance.

The death of a sacred emperor who had lived for the Empire—it was only right that every citizen mourn as one.

Along with me, the other three Dukes and members of the royal family followed the procession in silence, heads bowed.

The sky continued to pour rain without end.

Perhaps the heavens themselves mourned the Emperor’s death.

Or perhaps they wept for the uncertain and turbulent future that lay ahead for the Empire.

The funeral procession continued without incident.

I kept a constant eye on Duke Robliage, but he merely followed the procession.

Of course, no one would dare to make a move during the Emperor’s funeral.

My eyes landed on Iris.

She was closest to the coffin, so I could only see her back.

Even so, her back seemed much smaller than it used to.

I could clearly feel the weight of the suffering she carried.

The funeral procession eventually circled the imperial capital and returned to the royal palace.

There, it reached the Emperor’s grave—already dug in advance to the specifications of the imperial coffin.

The knights carefully lowered the coffin into the grave.

Several of the Emperor’s personal belongings were buried with him.

“His Majesty was a virtuous ruler like no other.”

Then spoke the commander of the Royal Knights—Hanadin Rapidedia, father of Hania.

He recounted the many accomplishments of the Emperor.

All who attended the funeral grew solemn in response.

“These were the great achievements His Majesty made through self-sacrifice for the Empire.”

As Hanadin finished speaking, the knights began covering the coffin with soil.

The Emperor’s coffin was slowly buried.

Even the highest authority in Hysirion ended up in the earth, no different than anyone else.

And so, when the coffin was completely buried—

It marked the true end of the Emperor’s presence in this world.

“Furthermore.”

Just then, as everyone was witnessing the Emperor’s final rest, Hanadin spoke again.

What could he possibly have to say now that the Emperor was buried?

Everyone turned to him in confusion.

“I will now read His Majesty’s will.”

At those words, murmurs spread throughout the crowd.

The Emperor had died from a long illness.

When could he possibly have written a will?

“Sir Hanadin, a will? His Majesty never said anything of the sort,”

Even the First Prince asked in disbelief.

But Hanadin did not respond.

Instead, he raised a fine piece of parchment.

On the back of it was a single seal.

Everyone present knew what that seal was.

It was the Emperor’s Seal—the symbol of the Emperor’s authority over the entire Niflheim Empire.

Swoooosh—

Amid the downpour, the air turned heavy with tension.

Sensing the shift, my gaze moved to Duke Robliage.

He stood calmly as ever in the rain.

But that calm demeanor told me everything I needed to know.

And in that moment, something struck my mind like lightning.

A long-unsolved puzzle finally fell into place.

Why did the Emperor die at this specific, earlier-than-expected time?

The pieces clicked together.

The Emperor had been bedridden for a long time.

Yes, he had been confined to his bed.

And if he had died earlier—there was nothing to stop his lifeless body from simply lying in that bed.

The Vampire Mystery.

A mystical art capable of breathing life into the dead.

Duke Robliage hadn’t brought in the Vampire Mystery for any other reason.

He used it to manipulate the already-deceased Emperor at the right moment.

Which means—

‘Everything was a smokescreen.’

All the chaos caused using the Vampire Mystery.

All the effort to protect it, even deploying the Celestial Echo Unit.

It was all a bluff.

His true goal was just one:

To control the timing of the Emperor’s death by using his already-dead body.

And now—

The Emperor lay buried beneath the earth.

His breath had long since ceased.

No traces of the Vampire Mystery would be found on him.

His final breath was gone, and the mystery would soon be erased by the Duke of Whitewood.

My eyes turned to Hanadin.

Hanadin was the Captain of the Imperial Knights.

And he had long been close to Duke Robliage.

Even Hania’s presence at Iris’s side made that clear.

Their close bond over many years had been possible because of Hanadin and Duke Robliage’s relationship.

Which means Hanadin had been part of the Third Princess's faction from the very beginning.

And now, the will was in his hand.

I could guess how it had been prepared.

The Emperor, reawakened by the Vampire Mystery, used his own handwriting and the imperial seal to write it.

Whether it truly expressed his will or not didn’t matter.

The fact that it was written by him was proof enough of its legitimacy.

“Stop! If His Majesty truly left a will, there’s no way I, the Crown Prince, wouldn’t know of it!”

The First Prince, now aware of what was happening, charged toward Hanadin through the rain.

But then, the Imperial Knights, who had up until now remained in formation, stepped in his way.

The Crown Prince glared at the knights blocking his path.

How dare they—Imperial Knights, sworn to protect the throne—stand in his way?

But they had every right to do so.

They served the Empire.

They served the Emperor.

“Your Highness, this is His Majesty’s final will.”

The Emperor may be buried—

But the power he held still remained in this world.

A will is the embodiment of imperial authority, the Emperor’s final command.

And so the Imperial Knights must prioritize it over even the Crown Prince.

“He’s right, Your Highness.”

And then, another man stepped forward.

A large man with a massive frame—

And someone who, by all accounts, should have sided with the First Prince.

“Duke Ironwall?”

Gerhardt Stormfell.

He, who had supported the First Prince, now backed Hanadin’s words.

The First Prince looked at him in disbelief, unable to accept the situation.

But the look in Duke Ironwall’s eyes was one of resolute determination.

The Duke Ironwall had defected from the First Prince's faction to the Third Princess’s.

The conversation he had once shared with the Duke of Gentle Calm flashed through the First Prince’s mind.

“Your Highness, the Crown Prince, this is His Majesty’s final will. How can you act so recklessly?”

And now the Duke of Gentle Calm made his move.

He wore his usual gentle smile, but there was an unsettling air behind it.

Those gathered here were the most powerful figures in the Empire.

Even the First Prince could not assert his authority before them.

As the situation suddenly turned, murmurs spread among the marquises and counts present.

Among them were those who remained calm, as if they had already foreseen this outcome.

And these were once members of the First Prince’s faction.

Originally, half of those present here belonged to the First Prince.

But swayed by the Celestial Duke, Duke Ironwall had already made his move in secret.

Duke Ironwall held overwhelming influence even within the First Prince’s faction.

His defection to the Third Princess’s side meant many nobles under him would follow suit.

Most of the nobles present here were followers of the Duke Ironwall.

When they learned of his change in allegiance, they weighed the scales between the First Prince and the Third Princess — and made their decision.

From the moment they lost the Duke Ironwall, the First Prince could no longer become Emperor.

Those who had done the math naturally aligned themselves with the Duke Ironwall.

One by one, they stepped forward.

The First Prince’s faction tried to move as well in the face of the unexpected situation.

But the Third Princess’s faction now outnumbered them significantly.

The Emperor was dead.

But he had returned — as a vampire.

For about half a year after his revival, the Emperor had been a puppet under the Celestial Duke.

During that time, the puppet Emperor covertly reached out to various nobles.

With the Emperor as his shield, the Celestial Duke likely promised to fulfill their desires — guaranteeing the throne.

The Third Princess, under the Celestial Duke’s wing, was bound to become the next Emperor.

With everything nearly assured, it was obvious where the nobles — who valued authority — would side.

“In the name of Aharva Hysirion, Emperor of the Hysirion Empire…”

“Stop!”

The First Prince shouted, struggling to break through the Imperial Knights.

His followers tried to approach, but the Third Princess’s faction had already formed a wall in their path.

“My successor to the throne shall be—”

And Iris began to walk forward.

Someone emerged from beneath an umbrella, approaching them.

In their hands — the imperial crown, adorned with countless rare jewels and gold to symbolize the Empire’s wealth.

The crown — the most symbolic representation of the Emperor’s authority.

That person had arrived, holding it.

And before them, Iris stepped forward.

“Iris Hysirion!”

The First Prince cried out her name.

But Iris did not stop walking.

I watched the scene unfold with my own eyes.

The First Prince screamed her name.

Iris stood before the crown.

The nobles awaited the birth of a new Emperor.

The Celestial Duke smiled silently.

Before that entire scene—

Boom!

“Third Princ—…!”

Strike, Bringer of Lightning.

The blackened clouds roared with thunder, piercing the earth.

———————!

A flash of light swept through the gathering.

Some clutched their heads and cowered in shock, some drew their swords, and others simply furrowed their brows.

But only one.

The woman who had stood before the crown — she alone was looking clearly in this direction.

She was looking at me — at the one who had raised his right hand to the sky.

Iris Hysirion.

She locked eyes with me.

At that moment, Iris’s eyes widened.

Because she must have realized who I was from the lightning.

“D-Duke Whitewood?”

Voices rang out in confusion.

Thanks to the lightning, everyone knew who was responsible.

But Duke of Whitewood does not command lightning.

And so, they began to realize — I was not Duke of Whitewood.

The hall froze, if only for a brief moment.

I had gained no more than a few seconds.

But sometimes, even a few seconds—

KWA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GANG!

—can change the world.

From somewhere far from here, a massive burst of white petals shot into the sky.

Soaring up toward the heavens, the white petals were unmistakable to anyone in the Empire.

Duke of Whitewood’s power — the mystery of the White Tree.

Raksid Anubecia.

The place from which the petals had erupted — the Celestial Duke’s mansion.

Confusion rippled through the crowd.

Duke of Whitewood was here, and yet the power of the White Tree had just erupted elsewhere.

No one knew what was happening.

But to me, it was a signal.

I clenched my right hand tightly.

I had no doubt — Duke of Whitewood would respond.

And she would surely buy me a little more time.

“Iris.”

In the stunned silence, I spoke.

Iris’s wavering eyes met mine.

“I made you wait, didn’t I?”

Duke of Whitewood’s response meant that she had taken over the Celestial Duke’s estate.

And more importantly — that Iris’s mother, revived and tormented as a vampire, was now safe.

Through the rift in the pierced clouds—

A sliver of sunlight poured down on this place.

Iris, standing in the darkness, still had trembling eyes.

But I gave her the brightest smile I could muster.

“I’ve come to get you.”

To take you away from this cruel, suffocating hell.