Chapter 229
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 229
Chapter Title: Do You Want to Die?
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[...Huh?]
The White Dragon Clan, once the weakest among the Seven Dragon Society.
The Azure Dragon Clan, which had squandered its power on charitable endeavors.
They were, in truth, relatively anomalous factions within the Seven Dragon Society, and it would be a mistake to assume the other clans were the same.
Yuna Kyung blinked vacantly as she watched Li Chingwei explain so kindly.
[Uh... you don't mean...? All the princesses I've met so far were the weakest of the Seven Dragon Princesses! Like some clichéd plot twist from a comic?]
"It's not that simple."
Rimon clicked his tongue.
Of course, there were differences in power and influence among the Seven Dragon Society clans.
Setting aside the Azure Dragon Clan, it was true that the Black Dragon Clan and White Dragon Clan were currently vying for the bottom spot.
But that wasn't what he and Li Chingwei were getting at—not some mere disparity in strength.
"The power gap is one thing, but more importantly, their temperaments are different."
[Is that really such a big deal?]
Yuna Kyung wore an utterly baffled expression.
Whether it was the Black Dragon Clan's scheming nature, the White Dragon Clan's peculiar mindset, or the Azure Dragon Clan's compassion.
She had experienced each clan's distinctive traits firsthand, but it had never struck her as a major issue.
"The fact that you're saying that means you know nothing about the Seven Dragon Society."
[I thought I knew quite a bit, though?]
"If you think so, then just sit back and watch quietly."
Rimon smirked.
He could tell from her response alone that words wouldn't get through to her.
So instead of explaining further, he leaned back deeply into his seat and turned his head.
Outside the window stretched the Atlantic Ocean.
More precisely, he thought of the clan that ruled the continent at its end, shrouded in dense jungle, and concluded coldly.
"Once we arrive in Brazil, you'll realize you've never truly seen the real face of the Seven Dragon Society."
She opened her eyes.
Was it lingering sleepiness?
Or the chill seeping into her skin?
She stared blankly at the familiar ceiling for a long while before slowly sitting up.
Splash.
Emerging from the translucent liquid was a naked body, not a stitch of clothing on it.
Droplets from her long, unbound hair trailed down her milky skin, over her slender, elongated form.
Swish.
She picked up a towel and wiped away the moisture.
From head to toe, she meticulously dried every last drop, spending about ten minutes before stowing the damp third towel into a green container.
Only then did she reach for the clothes prepared separately.
She layered five outer garments over thin underclothes that barely covered the essentials, cinched a fabric sash tight to hug her body, and tidied her hair.
Completing the familiar routine with practiced hands, she finally slipped on sleek gloves that reached her elbows.
Preparations done, she stepped out of the chamber.
At the end of a stark hallway devoid of people, decorations, or even a single painting lay an enchanting garden.
A vast, breathtaking flowerbed centered around a clear-water channel, blooming with vibrant flowers—impossible to believe it was indoors.
Crunch.
The moment she entered, a bizarre sight unfolded.
The flowers, moments ago brimming with vivid beauty, began to undergo all manner of changes where her feet trod.
Swish.
Some shriveled as if decades had passed—still the more ordinary cases.
Flowers losing their white hue to rainbow sheens before blackening.
Stems splitting and writhing into tentacles.
Others melting like snow or hardening like metal.
Dozens of varieties twisted in surreal, otherworldly transformations.
But the most absurd part came next.
The flowers that had grotesquely warped at her touch reverted to normal once she passed.
Even the melted ones sprouted fresh buds and regrew in seconds.
It was like a dream.
Crunch, crunch.
Yet she paid no heed to the garden's anomalies, not even a glance.
She crossed straight through to settle slowly onto the jade chair on the central dais.
"Come in."
Creeeak.
No sooner had she spoken softly from the jade throne than the massive doors swung open, admitting two women.
Identical faces, identical heights.
The only difference: one a short-haired woman in white robes, the other long-haired in crimson garb that perilously skimmed her curves.
The twin sisters knelt at a respectful distance from the throne.
"Your servant Arvela greets the Princess, wishing health upon your sacred form."
"Your servant Barbara greets the Princess, wishing eternal glory upon you."
"Hmph, health and glory."
As if something amused her greatly.
A sneer curled her pale bluish lips, but she soon snorted dismissively.
"Report."
"Your servant..."
"Your servant Barbara will report first."
The crimson-clad woman with twin blades on her back cut off Arvela.
Ignoring her sister's sharp glare, Barbara bowed her head and spoke.
"We've received word that the Black Dragon Princess has departed as scheduled. Traveling by private jet, she should arrive by midday today."
"Are preparations to receive our guest in order?"
"Yes, all ceremonies have been perfectly arranged."
Barbara beamed with pride.
With ample time, it might be expected, but pulling off full protocols in a single day was an impressive feat even by her own reckoning.
Yet she offered no praise.
Instead, she asked sharply.
"Have you uncovered why Li Chingwei requested this visit?"
"Th-that..."
"What of the investigation I ordered before?"
"..."
It happened in an instant.
Barbara's confident face drained of color, sweat beading as her head drooped.
Sneering at her, the woman said.
"You've covered Li Chingwei. Continue investigating the rest."
"...Yes."
Barbara bowed glumly in response.
Arvela, in white, watched with smug satisfaction and quickly interjected.
"May your servant Arvela report?"
"Do you have anything special to report?"
"We've found traces of Ambrosia."
"Where?"
Unlike with Barbara, genuine interest sharpened her response, and Arvela sparkled with excitement as she poured out her report.
"A player named Antonio is involved. A vile gang leader in the slums—we're tracking him now."
Arvela declared confidently.
She flashed a victorious smile at Barbara's frustrated glare.
But the next instant, she froze.
"Is that all?"
"Pardon?"
"You're proudly calling it a report that you haven't even caught a lowly scum like that yet?"
Under her gaze—disappointment laced with irritation—Arvela paled and stammered.
"I-I'm sorry. I'll go capture him myself right away."
Barbara swiftly cut in.
"Princess, entrust that to me. I can catch him faster than Arvela."
"Barbara! Stealing my task?"
"Hmph, just covering for your incompetence."
"You gaping mouth...!"
Barbara saw a chance to redeem herself through her sister's failure; Arvela faced losing credit to her sibling.
They glared, channeling psionic energy.
Or trying to.
"Arvela, Barbara."
They stiffened.
Not just from the spine-chilling sharpness in her voice.
A tremendous psionic wave emanated from the throne, wilting the flowerbed in concentric rings.
The thick, sweet scent—denser than all the blooms combined—filled their noses.
Their limbs grew rigid, vertigo surging.
It reminded the quarrelsome twins just whose presence they dared bicker in.
To the statue-still pair, she asked softly.
"—Do you want to die?"
A clichéd line anyone enraged might utter.
But Barbara and Arvela blanched deathly pale.
As close aides, they knew she never said such things in jest.
Anyone could tell, seeing her eyes.
One glove removed, her already sharp gaze narrowed further in gloomy scrutiny.
"Th-this servant deserves death!"
"Please punish your foolish servants."
Thud!
Forcing their stiff limbs, they slammed their foreheads to the ground.
She shot them a cynical glance and spoke bleakly.
"I don't care if you're close enough to die together. Just don't disappoint me again. Understood?"
"Yes, Princess."
"We'll remember."
Only after their replies did she tap the throne with a finger.
Swish.
As if time reversed, the wilted flowers regained vitality; the paralyzed sisters recovered mobility.
Confirming this, she leaned back.
"If you understand, withdraw."
"But..."
"That..."
"You plan to greet the Black Dragon Princess looking that pathetic?"
Whatever unnerved them so.
They glanced worriedly at her exposed milky hand and pallid face, but her cynical words made them bow and depart.
Not fully recovered, their stiff movements drew her sharp, silent gaze.
Only after a long pause did she speak.
"Cough! Cough, cough!"
Her pale bluish lips parted to unleash violent coughs.
Hand over mouth proved futile as fits wracked her; at last, she regained steady breath.
Her face even paler, she spread her hand.
Gazing briefly at the blackened blood staining her palm.
"...Hmph."
As if nothing new.
She scoffed lightly, wiped the blood with a handkerchief.
Donned her glove to hide the skin, tossed the bloody cloth aside.
Sizzle.
It hit the ground smoking and dissolving; nearby flowers twisted anew.
She ignored it.
From a small vial, she took a thumb-sized pill and swallowed, murmuring languidly.
"If only those sisters got along better... Karra, your daughters still have far to go."
A woman with green hair, pallid as a patient, frail as if a breeze might topple her.
Maia leaned back on the jade throne and closed her eyes.
As if alone was preferable.
Or rejecting all others.
In the flowerbed's heart, empty save for her, she sank into a silence deeper than death, more profound than solitude.