CH491 · Rewrite
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Chapter 491: An Assassination Story

For a moment, Nightingale felt as if the entire world had trembled.

She stepped out of the Mist and the scene reassembled itself in color—the darkness the magic stone had thrown over everything beginning to lift, her heart finally slowing its frantic percussion. The man on the ground was not Roland. He was a guard she had never seen before, dressed in the standard uniform of the Honeysuckle Family, a dark red mark spread across his chest where a bullet had found him.

“Why are you here?”

The voice was familiar. She turned and found Roland himself, surrounded by rings of bodyguards in the corner of the hall—which explained why she had missed him entirely when she rushed in.

“I—” She opened her mouth and discovered her throat was raw. Her limbs were cold, numbed through; her whole body felt wrung out as if she had just walked away from something that should have killed her. What she wanted—needed—was to pull him close and hold on. But there were nobles still in the hall. She was head of the Security Bureau. There were rules she had set for herself.

Her brain said stop.

She entered the Mist and walked straight to him, cutting through the lines of guards as though they were smoke, and pressed herself against him with everything she had left.

Gasps from the crowd. Murmured confusion—a witch appearing from nowhere, vanishing without a word.

Inside the Mist, Nightingale held the prince with both arms. She pressed her face against his chest and listened. His heartbeat. Just that. It was the only evidence she could trust—the only proof that the alarm had been false, that the world had not, in fact, split open.

Roland understood. He let a moment pass, then raised his voice into the hall. “Everyone to the dining hall for lunch. No one leaves the castle. We resume the meeting this afternoon.”


When only his guards, Petrov, Sylvie, and Lightning remained, Roland spoke again. “Does the murderer connect to the assassination attempt?”

Nightingale stepped back from him—reluctantly, with effort—and let herself be visible again, as though she had not moved at all. “He does,” she said. “When I found out the man directing the criminal was a Honeysuckle guard, I came here immediately.” She laid out her findings and Maans’ confession, the full chain of it. “I didn’t realize his real purpose was to draw us away and open a window to get to you. Thank the gods you’re safe.”

“His plan worked until the final step,” Roland said, “and he calculated my arrival time accurately, predicted the witches’ movements.” A pause, almost admiring. “He was wasted as an assassin.”

Petrov dropped to one knee. “Your Highness, I truly did not know that he—”

“Stand up.” Roland cut him off, not unkindly. “You’ve said so already, and you know I don’t enjoy punishing people. But it’s clear that through negligence of duty, agents entered among the castle servants and the outer guard.”

Petrov’s mouth opened, then closed. He lowered his head. “I am guilty.”

“Find out the assassin’s identity and background. I want it quickly.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

When the eldest son of the Honeysuckle Family had gone, Nightingale let the question she’d been holding surface. “How bad was it?”

“Threatening but not dangerous.” Roland almost smiled. “Thanks to Sylvie’s warning—though the assassin had already put himself at a disadvantage by choosing the meeting hall.”

She listened to the full account and began to understand the shape of it—though Roland described it with a lightness she couldn’t share. Weapons were forbidden in the hall, but the man had concealed a dagger under his clothes. Castle guards weren’t searched. His only error had been wearing a God’s Stone of Retaliation—conspicuous because all nobles had been asked to remove their adornments for Sylvie’s sake. The black void it carved in her perception announced him the moment he stepped into range. When he moved toward Roland, she called the warning.

Everything after that happened fast and close.

The hall ran twenty meters a side. The assassin, hearing the warning, accelerated—charging toward the main seat where Roland sat. By the time Roland had the revolver clear and the safety off, the dagger had already struck his lower back. A trained killer targets the waist because the body doesn’t defend it by instinct the way it protects the chest and head; one clean strike to the right spot could end a man’s ability to resist, leaving his throat open for the follow-through.

Soraya’s protective coating held. The blade didn’t penetrate. Roland fired with the barrel pressed flat against the man’s chest—two 12mm rounds, both fatal, a detonation that shook the hall and set everyone screaming.

Cold sweat traced Nightingale’s spine as she worked through each step. If Roland had been a fraction slower with the safety lock. If the gun had misfired.

She turned and caught Lightning’s eye. The girl dropped her gaze immediately.

“Your Highness, we have it.” Petrov returned. “His name was Shio. Not from the Western Region—formerly one of Duke Ryan’s castle guards.”

Roland’s frown sharpened. “Why would you take on someone like that?”

“He was just an ordinary guard. After the families fell, manpower was short everywhere. I brought in those who seemed unattached to the Duke. It’s how these things are done in Stronghold.” Petrov answered carefully. “I don’t believe he acted out of revenge.”

He isn’t lying, Nightingale noted. When a great family collapsed, those without title or land were simply redistributed—regarded as resources by whoever had the means to claim them. A change of owner, nothing more. The Honeysuckle Family had surrendered early, and Petrov had always managed Stronghold; no one had thought to examine this particular batch of inherited men.

“How many others have similar backgrounds?” Roland asked. “Did you take on men from the Wild Rose, Maple, and Wolf families as well?”

“Three or four in the outer guard,” Petrov said. “The servants and citizens from the other three families were assigned to the Honeysuckle and Elk families. They won’t appear in Stronghold—I can guarantee that.”

“Then I won’t concern myself with them further. But inside the castle perimeter, even the garrison men must come from your family going forward. Is that understood? As for the inner castle, I’ll arrange that myself.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Seal off Shio’s residence. I intend to find out the real reason behind this attempt.” Roland glanced at Lightning. “Tell Maggie to fetch Countess Spear.”

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