Late at night, in a second-floor bedroom of Lichtenstein Castle, the silence was so deep that only the faint sound of wind slipping through the ancient window frames could be heard.
Moonlight poured in through the windows, spreading across the old carpets and furniture, casting a cold silver sheen.
The room’s atmosphere was taut, every corner shrouded in mystery.
“Princess Alexia, please calm yourself. We can take our time and talk.”
Lan Qi’s tone remained as calm as ever.
Sitting beside him, Huperion, who had remained silent from beginning to end, now froze as if her mind had crashed.
Her eyes widened as she turned to look at Lan Qi.
She had only hoped that Lan Qi might, by chance, ask a few questions related to the Kray Empire that could somehow connect to Duke Migaya—she was simply tagging along to listen.
But she never expected that in just a few words, Lan Qi would tear open such a gaping hole!
Just moments ago, when Lan Qi declared to the princess’s face that the Kray Empire would fall, Huperion nearly jumped in to stop him.She absolutely had not expected—
Looking at Princess Alexia’s reaction now…
Had he really guessed right???
Where on earth did he learn something like this?! And more importantly—
Just how much did he actually know about the Kray Empire’s darkest secrets?
Huperion’s emotions tangled within her.
Part of her was overjoyed—Lan Qi seemed supernaturally reliable.
Another part was deeply confused—why did he seem to know everything?
And woven through it all was an unreal, dreamlike feeling.
In that tense room, among the three of them, only Lan Qi remained composed.
Finally, Princess Alexia slowly sank back into her chair, stunned.
Though she still had no idea what hidden truths lay behind Lan Qi, she could no longer dismiss his words as meaningless.
“Tell me, then—are the ones controlling the Kray Empire now the Third Progenitor, Duke Rashar; the Seventh Progenitor, Marquis Hrittir; or the Eighth Progenitor, Marquis Somerset?”
Lan Qi asked directly as soon as he saw the princess regather her composure.
He believed in speaking openly.
The finer details could wait—there were still several days ahead to sort through them.
But what mattered most was grasping the crucial information as quickly as possible.
“?”
Princess Alexia only stared back at him in puzzlement, clearly unfamiliar with the names he had spoken.
“Ah… of course.”
Lan Qi thought it through. For the Bloodkin, their true names were of vital importance—naturally, they would never expose them within the empire.
Someone like him, casually reciting the true names of the Thirteen Progenitors as though reading off a menu—
If the progenitors themselves ever learned of it, they would probably come for his head immediately.
After briefly explaining himself to Huperion, Lan Qi excused himself from the room.
He followed the castle’s familiar corridors toward the library on the same floor. The dim stone passage stretched beneath his feet until he arrived at a library filled with ink, pens, and paper.
From a drawer in the corner, he retrieved paper and a pencil. Sitting at the largest desk in the center, he began to sketch.
Soft yellow lamplight illuminated the table. The air was heavy with the scent of old books, steeped in history. This forgotten place seemed to exist outside of time, with only him moving within it.
The scratch of pencil against paper echoed in the quiet library.
In his memory, prior to the main story, only three high-ranking Bloodkin had awakened.
After them would come the Ninth Progenitor, Marquis Bernhard.
And if the storyline unfolded “smoothly”—if the Bloodkin succeeded in finding and unsealing the Second Progenitor, the Blood Prince, and the First Progenitor, the True Blood King—then the nightmare of the Blood Moon’s Doomsday would truly descend.
Lan Qi did not sketch carefully; instead, he let the lines flow naturally with his memory.
The strokes were rough yet lively, with a sharpness that brought the figures to life.
After ten or so minutes, three portraits were complete.
He immediately rose, sheets in hand, and retraced his steps down the corridor, returning to Room 201.
Pushing open the door, he swiftly returned to the long table.
“These three are progenitors of the Bloodkin—the true culprits behind the Kray Empire’s corruption.”
One by one, he laid the portraits before Princess Alexia.
A delicate youth, gender indeterminate.
A sharp-eyed young man.
A cold, ruthless young woman.
And then—
The moment she saw the drawings, Alexia, who had just barely regained her composure, was thrown into a nightmare once more. Her face twisted with sheer terror.
Huperion’s gaze darted between the princess’s horrified face and the portraits in disbelief.
This was her first time seeing something Lan Qi had drawn himself.
And though the sketches were rough and casual, even Princess Alexia herself hadn’t realized—
These portraits carried too much life, too much truth.
They touched directly upon her soul, triggering fear so deep it was as though she stood face-to-face with the progenitors themselves!
“Th-these… them…”
Her voice shook.
She could not understand how anyone could possibly know so much—could grasp the crisis of the Kray Empire so completely!
The one she feared most was the young man whom Lan Qi called the Eighth Progenitor, Marquis Somerset.
That man was already serving as the empire’s Minister of Defense.
She herself had glimpsed the Seventh Progenitor, Marquis Hrittir, within the palace.
But Alexia knew well—an eighth-tier marquis alone could not possibly corrupt an entire empire.
There had to be another, far stronger, hiding deeper in the shadows.
And now—everything matched with Lan Qi’s words and sketches.
The true mastermind was the Third Progenitor, Duke Rashar.
And yet, outwardly, he was nothing but a “new student” at the Kray Royal Academy—gentle, kind, indistinguishable from any ordinary human.
And Lan Qi was saying this man was a Bloodkin Duke?!
A suffocating terror closed over Alexia. Her hands clutched at her chest as if to hold herself together. Her eyes brimmed with tears, threatening to spill over.
Never had she imagined that a Blood Duke could be so close—walking among them, playing with everyone like fools.
Even she, who thought herself closest to the truth, had seen only the surface.
Then… could the empire still be saved?
“……”
Lan Qi lifted a hand.
The Poet of Love, sensing his intent, dissolved its own summoning state.
For if the poet remained, Alexia might not have been able to think or speak clearly ever again.
“…My apologies. I only sketched them roughly.”
He had not expected that even three casual portraits could strike Princess Alexia with such devastating force.