"How dare that country bumpkin!" The head receptionist stepped inside the restroom, her frustration bubbling to the surface as she pulled out her purse. With a twitch of her eye, she applied lipstick while glaring at her reflection in the mirror, recalling the humiliation she had felt at the hands of that woman who presumed to act so boldly in front of that man.
"Tch, it's fine. He seemed rich enough and handsome too," she muttered to herself. As she rummaged through her purse, she retrieved foundation and facial cream, meticulously covering the blemishes on her face while strategically concealing an acne breakout.
The man she had glimpsed earlier had an air of celebrity about him, further amplified by the limited edition watch that graced his wrist—he was undoubtedly wealthy.
Taking a deep breath, she fought to regain her composure. She imagined how, after a few nights spent with that man, he would likely discard the country bumpkin in favor of someone more suitable. That woman, she thought scornfully, had no business being in the same room as such a handsome gentleman, especially after that embarrassing display with her low-quality wine.
So, in an effort to catch his attention, or at the very least, secure his number, she focused intently on her makeup.
"I will show you your place," she thought, her mind racing with plans of how she would win that man over and subsequently cast aside the foolish woman who dared cross her. Just as she was about to voice her assertive thoughts, she caught sight of the very woman she had been so busy cursing. The country bumpkin entered the restroom, leisurely washing her hands at the sink.
"Mind you, my place is even bigger than this hospital," Aecilia replied, her voice soft yet confident, accompanied by a smile that belied her true feelings. She kept her eyes closed for a moment as she stretched toward the towel dispenser, drying her hands with an air of calm superiority.
"Y-you witch! Do you really think a beggar like—" The woman barely managed to articulate her words before the sharp sound of air sliced through the tension in the atmosphere. Suddenly, before her eyes, she saw a silhouette; a cloth twisted itself around her neck with a swift motion. A sharp pain from the strike of the towel that had ensnared her quickly reached her mind, and she shrieked, "Kyaaa~!"
Overwhelmed by the pain, she screamed and desperately clawed at the towel in an attempt to free herself. With a powerful yank, Aecilia pulled her forward. The force caused the woman to stumble, losing her balance as Aecilia swiftly lifted her knee. "This beggar's nightdress is worth more than your character!" she declared.
BAM!
"KHwackk!" The woman's chin met Aecilia's knee with a jarring impact, her eyes rolling back in shock, saliva spilling from her mouth. She collapsed on the marble tiles with a resounding thud.
THUD.
As a result, the most fertile lands were often granted to specific families that consistently showed loyalty to the crown, while other noble families received lower priority in asset distribution.
The allocation of resources had already taken place in the previous generation of the royal family, allowing the current descendants to bask in the wealth established by their forebears.
Over time, those families that once lacked favor began to ascend in status, while favored families witnessed a decline, underscoring the notion that wealth and influence are inextricably linked; no noble family can claim true power without substantial financial backing.
Within this dynamic Kingdom of Thaloris, which is made up of numerous territories and vast land areas surrounded by imposing walls, lay the Croceaus family's expansive domain.
This territory was so extensive that it could be likened to an entire city, teeming with thousands of residents, including branch family members, servants and their families, farmers, and hired help—all living within this realm by the authority of the main family.
Moreover, many of these individuals were accepted as permanent residents based on recommendations from the territory's native populace.
The architectural design of the Croceaus family's territory resembled a spider's web, with the central hub featuring the grand palace of the main family. Radiating outward like the strands of a web were eight main highways, each connecting to various mansions or palaces belonging to the branch families.
This intricate, web-like structure ensured that all elements of the territory were interlinked, providing multiple routes and transportation services to facilitate movement throughout the area.
As night began to descend, the sun took its final breath, painting the horizon in shades of orange. The few rays that managed to break through the dust particles in the air made their way into the main palace, where a woman concealed within a chamber awaited.
A mesmerizing sight, she stood in the center of a grand hall, her fluttering purple hair cascading like a waterfall, a katana blade of black and amethyst gripped firmly in her hand. Surrounding her were over forty individuals cloaked in black attire, their hoods obscuring their faces. Each bore an envelope at their waist, signifying their identities as special forces under the Croceaus family.
"Have you received the names yet?" Rivia inquired, perched upon a grotesque mound of corpses belonging to the traitors she had slain. A strategic choice, these bodies would serve as bait in her pursuit of the main culprit. But with her master poised to send her the list of those marked for death, she felt no reason to linger idly while sleeper cells wove their way through the palace.
Blood soaked the floor, a chilling testament to her handiwork. The relentless trickle of fresh wounds echoed through the vast hall, each droplet a reminder of the lives she had taken, the blood from her fingertips becoming the very essence of her throne.
Tring~