Chapter 102: Your Majesty, Don’t! (6k)
“This damn Minor Mental Health Protection Act!”
Ophelia gritted her silver teeth, clenched her small fists, and slammed them down hard.
In midair, the flowing undead metal gathered into the shape of a cloud, turning soft and light like cotton, gently catching Ophelia’s punching fist.
Obviously, the rune intelligence that controlled the undead metal had long since grown accustomed to Ophelia’s actions... and, following its preset programming, naturally transformed into a little stress-relief toy for its master.
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have directly copied the standard universal circuit.”
Ophelia was grinding her teeth in frustration.
Kate had gotten the spatial core from the secret organization 「Bronze Rose」 quite late, and by the time it was delivered into Ophelia’s hands, Rast was already preparing to enter the Epoch Remnant.
That left Ophelia with very little time to craft the projection crystal, much like an author scrambling to meet a deadline.
To save time, she chose to directly copy the commonly used imperial control program into the rune circuit of the projection crystal.
For a competent machinist, such copy-paste pragmatism was routine.
But she hadn’t expected that forgetting to delete the legal restriction clause in the universal circuit would come back to bite her at a critical moment.
I even took my pants off, and now you’re showing me mosaics?
How is this any different from those cliffhangers that cut off right before the story’s climax with a “To be continued, stay tuned”?
“You think a mere 18+ restriction can stop me?”
“If I let this kind of childish thing block me, I don’t deserve the name Ophelia von Fresberg.”
In Ophelia’s wine-red eyes, silver streams of data surged rapidly.
Her mental energy flowed upstream along the path that connected the Nightworld to the real world, just like a hacker breaking into a server, directly invading the rune circuit and quickly rewriting the restriction clause.
After a dozen seconds, the flowing silver light in her eyes faded away.
She took the tall glass respectfully handed to her by the Hand of Mercury beside her, and viciously took a sip of the rose-red liquid inside.
Well, due to Ophelia being underage, although the glass and the drink looked no different from red wine, what she was actually drinking was grape juice dyed with edible coloring.
“Done.”
On the light screen, the blurry, distorted color block vanished, and a clear image reappeared.
...
“Take it off.”
Seeing the ice-blue words floating in midair, Rast’s heart slightly tensed.
He hadn’t expected that this Queen Helen of the Underworld Nation was even more ravenous—or rather, uninhibited—than he had imagined.
He slowly removed his servant gloves while pondering countermeasures in his mind.
It wasn’t that Rast personally had any particular aversion to undressing, but in his current crossdressed state, removing too many clothes could risk exposing his disguise.
If the Shadow Servant’s guess proved true, then this Queen of the Underworld Nation might very well be a lily princess who was extremely averse to men...
And once his crossdressing was exposed, the outcome would be self-evident.
Though after half a year of preparation, Rast had fully digested the extraordinary knowledge gifted to him by Sisel, and his rank had reached the peak of Tier Three.
He wasn’t far from breaking into Tier Four—perhaps just one opportunity away from promotion.
Even so, facing the mistress of this paradise, Rast still felt enormous pressure.
It was no wonder—this queen of the underworld wielded the relic of Death, held dominion over life and death, and possessed the legendary might of her domain.
If she truly developed murderous intent toward him, then whether he was Tier Two or Tier Four, the result would not change.
The servant gloves came off, followed by the ceremonial hat and tall boots...
Next would be the court dress.
Once the court dress was removed, his crossdressing disguise would likely be exposed.
However, as a newly admitted palace servant, Rast naturally had no right to disobey Her Majesty’s orders.
Plop.
The final piece of upper clothing came off—the star-embroidered court dress fell to the ground, revealing his bare upper body.
Rast’s muscles tensed slightly, eyes locked onto Helen’s delicate face, identical to Akxia’s, ready to burst into action at any moment.
He and the Shadow Servant had prepared an emergency evacuation plan in case his identity was exposed, and Rast carried extraordinary tools for cover.
But all of these were merely contingency plans—no plan could guarantee survival from a legendary foe who intended to kill.
But at that moment, Rast saw Helen stepping toward him with light, airy steps.
Her fair fingers gently touched Rast’s flat abdomen.
Did she discover he was crossdressing and now wanted to kill him?
That thought flashed through Rast’s mind.
But the next moment, he saw the curiosity sparkling in the girl’s violet eyes.
Her slender, pale fingers caressed his abdomen, then moved upward across his chest, neck, and head.
The cold tips of her fingers brushed past Rast’s cheek, leaving a slightly ticklish sensation.
Rast felt Helen’s movements pause briefly.
Then suddenly, she reached out, pinched his cheek like playing with a doll.
This action seemed to contain some kind of rule.
In an instant, Rast felt his facial disguise wiped away by a mysterious force, returning to his original appearance.
Only after completing this did Helen withdraw her hand.
She stepped back, tilted her head as she examined the now-revealed young man before her.
It seemed like she was comparing him to some image in her mind. After a long while, a flash of satisfaction finally passed through her violet eyes.
Ice-blue runes appeared in midair: “Now you look pleasing to the eye.”
What do you mean “now” I look pleasing?
So all along, you weren’t a girl-loving, lily-obsessed yuri queen...
But a straight woman with normal orientation?
Then who exactly was I crossdressing for, wasting all that effort?
Rast couldn’t help but recall the Shadow Servant’s face. That guy looked so dutiful and upright, yet turned out to be a hidden troublemaker.
In truth, wasn’t it just your own orange-tinted yuri goggles skewing your view?
That thought had barely crossed his mind...
When Rast suddenly saw the girl with the long ice-blue hair in front of him, like someone who had finally dressed up their favorite doll just right—she gazed at him, lips moving slightly.
Then—the world froze.
No longer just ice-blue text floating in the air—a clear voice echoed in the still air.
It was a girl speaking, in the language of the Old Epoch.
Rast had heard this word before, from Akxia.
It meant: “Death.”
The air around him gradually cooled, and a chill swept over his entire body.
Rast knew exactly what that feeling meant—Akxia had once said the same words to him, but back then the target of the 「Angel of Death’s Decree」 had been the curse entwined on his body.
She had activated Nightblade then to help treat Rast’s cursed state.
But now, it was different.
Rast could clearly feel that this deathly decree—was aimed at him personally.
Helen wanted to kill him?
Why? Was it still because of his earlier crossdressing?
Yet from her gaze, Rast couldn’t detect the slightest fury or betrayal—her violet eyes held the joy of someone who had just acquired a long-coveted toy.
Rast tried to speak, but the chill of death had already enveloped him like eternal frost.
Every inch of flesh and every organ in his body cried out in agony under the sub-zero temperature.
Not just his voice—his very thoughts were frozen still by the cold.
This was a life-reaping, instant-death “word of power”—and yet, for some reason, it had been cast on Rast almost immediately after he met Helen.
His vision began to darken—it was the shadow of death falling over him, life leaking from his body.
Rast was no stranger to this near-death feeling—he had experienced it countless times in the loop at Deep Blue Port.
But back then, Rast had been deemed part of a historical projection by the Nightworld, allowing him to die and revive, retrying endlessly…
Now that he had escaped Deep Blue Port’s endless loop, recognized by the Nightworld as a true Night Traveler, he should have lost the ability to “reload” his life.
That theory remained unproven, but after struggling so hard to break free of that time prison, Rast would never willingly return to that hell.
Yet now, he seemed about to be forced to test that theory.
Just then, Rast felt a pale light begin to wrap around his body.
The icy chill of death was dispersed, and the flow of life briefly halted.
「Silent Disqualification: Withered Pebble」
It was a Nightblade origin text copied from Professor Barbalossa, guardian of the Arcane Tower.
Ever since he’d unlocked his bond with Professor Barbalossa, the origin text for 「Silent Disqualification: Withered Pebble」 had permanently occupied a slot in the Fool’s Library.
Much like a fantasy-killer, this origin text could nullify all extraordinary effects on anything Rast’s body touched.
Of course, this was just Barbalossa’s Nightblade—not a true fantasy-killer capable of erasing all transcendence… When encountering a higher-ranked divine entity, its effect would be greatly diminished.
Even so, when the instant-death word of power was cast upon Rast, 「Silent Disqualification」 still activated.
Though Helen’s rank far exceeded Rast’s, weakening 「Silent Disqualification: Withered Pebble」 from “nullification” to merely “short-term weakening,”
Rast still seized that fleeting moment where the death decree was slightly delayed.
It was too slow to express in words—he directly triggered 「Whisper Beneath the Moon」.
“Your Majesty, don’t!”
...
Elsewhere.
Sensing that inexplicable voice echoing in her mind, the girl with long ice-blue hair visibly froze.
She tilted her head in confusion, a few strands of hair falling across her cheek.
「Why?」
Perhaps unused to communicating via inner voice, glowing text appeared midair instead.
「Why refuse the blessing?」
Though that was what she said, the ice-blue hue in her eyes quietly faded away as well.
Rast felt like he could finally breathe again.
That life-stealing word of power had been withdrawn by its master.
The bone-piercing chill of death vanished, and the darkness in his vision was driven away by the light.
The flickering flame of life, like a candle in the wind, no longer wavered, and his life force stopped leaking from his body.
At the same time, as he looked at the pale blue text hovering in the air—
The intelligence in his mind about Paradise surged forth, and he finally understood the actions of this Queen of the Underworld.
Paradise—
This small nation situated in the far northern reaches of the continent was named so precisely because it was cut off from the world.
The Iron Cross plague, the Desolate Beast tides, the cults, even the corruption of evil gods—none of these had anything to do with Paradise.
In this regard, Paradise seemed even more stable than the city protected by the Shoreguard Spire.
For the latter’s safety relied solely on the deterrent presence of a Legendary at the Shoreguarders' headquarters… should that organization ever fall or relocate, its shelter and deterrence toward nearby city-states would naturally vanish.
Paradise, on the other hand, had no such overwhelming deterrence… yet it had never once been invaded by cults, the Iron Cross, or beast tides.
It was a land untouched by the world.
Much like the Peach Blossom Spring from Rast’s previous life, it was isolated from all war, calamity, and disaster.
And precisely because of this, refugees across the continent who could not find protection at the Shoreguarders’ headquarters came to regard Paradise as their final refuge and haven.
Countless people came from the outside world, entering this small country they called Paradise, hoping to be chosen as the lucky few to receive the Queen’s blessing—
To be baptized by the blessing, to become a true member of Paradise, and to live apart from the chaos and catastrophes of the outside world.
Even the identity Rast had used when disguising himself to sneak into Paradise and participate in the palace maid assessments—
Was that of a refugee who had been driven to desperation by the beast tides and the Iron Cross.
However—
Such a detached, transcendent status could not possibly come without a price.
The so-called Paradise was, in fact, a kingdom of the dead and the undead.
And the so-called chosen lucky ones, who received the blessing—
Were nothing more than souls stripped of fate, fully integrated into the Underworld as members of the realm of the dead.
Because they had lost their vitality and become the dead, neither the Iron Cross nor the Desolate Beast tides had any interest in them.
After all, both the Iron Cross and the beast tides craved to torment the living—those with flesh and blood—not the already-dead undead.
So even cults and evil gods never bothered to cast their gaze upon Paradise.
For a mass of souls who had lost their future and all potential held no value—neither as sacrifices nor as corruptible followers.
In a way, Paradise’s form of existence was similar to that of the Nightworld.
It was a kingdom of the dead, where the souls of the deceased and the phantoms of the old days wandered—a Netherworld belonging only to the dead.
For thousands of years in this era, this Underworld nation had existed in this very form.
Until a little over a century ago, when the Great Cataclysm erupted—
Countless refugees regarded this place as a sanctuary and flooded into Paradise.
They had yet to receive the blessing and become true members of the Underworld.
Thus, this land of the dead gained a trace of vitality.
This Netherworld could have continued on eternally—
If the source of this Underworld nation, the relic of Death, had not been targeted by the “Gravekeeper.”
“Why refuse?”
“Only this way can you be safe.”
“Stay here, by my side, forever—I will protect you.”
Helen stared at Rast’s face, her violet eyes filled with confusion.
Since her birth, she had always lived within this palace.
She used her power to bestow blessings upon her people.
Letting them be bathed in the power of death, and reborn from fragile, perishable lives into immortal forms.
And this eternity—
Was the mercy and gentleness she offered as their queen.
That was why Helen had wanted to use her power to bestow the same blessing upon Rast.
Because in her eyes, Rast’s current form was far too fragile.
Like a delicate piece of artwork.
It needed no external force to break—time alone would be enough to slowly wear down that flesh-and-blood body into something aged and hideous.
Only by using her power to transform him into a form of the dead could Rast truly be safe—forever remaining by her side.
Just like the palace maids and other subjects she had previously blessed.
Helen didn’t know why, but when she first saw the face of the youth before her, an instinctual urge to protect him rose in her heart.
But for the Queen of the Underworld, the best way to protect someone—was to make them into an eternal, undying undead, to always keep by her side.
In Rast’s world, such a thing would be called—
A “figurine.”
Rast didn’t know what kind of life the Queen of the Underworld—who looked and acted so much like Akxia—had gone through to develop such a twisted worldview.
But—
“No, Your Majesty.”
Rast’s face was deathly pale, a lingering effect of brushing against death and having his life forcibly peeled away by the word of power.
Yet his voice was firm. “I used to believe—”
“That endless time, eternal youth and beauty, was the greatest gift Heaven could offer.”
“But it’s not like that.”
Rast gently shook his head.
A faint smile appeared on that pale face. “To be born, to grow—”
“To age and eventually die… to experience joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness—this is the unique beauty of humans, whose lives are so brief.”
“Because humans age, because humans die—humanity is lovable, and noble.”
He looked seriously at the girl with long, ice-blue hair before him.
“A child laughing on the way home from school, proudly showing their award to their parents.”
“The anxious waiting outside a delivery room for news of one’s wife and newborn.”
“Old and frail, unable to walk, sitting in a wheelchair watching the sunset and falling leaves, exchanging a smile with one’s lifelong partner.”
“These are moments only fragile, short-lived humans can experience…”
“Things that eternal, immortal beings can never understand, let alone empathize with.”
Rast’s voice paused for a moment. “And the eternal blessing bestowed by Your Majesty can indeed freeze one’s life at its most beautiful moment.”
“But in my eyes, that’s nothing more than a butterfly specimen sealed in a museum.”
“Delicate, beautiful, but cold and stiff—with no right to be compared with its living kin, fluttering freely in the sky.”
...
Listening to Rast’s words—
The queen with ice-blue hair froze slightly, her violet eyes still.
As the Queen of the Underworld, whether servant or subject, everyone had always treated her with utmost reverence.
For the first time in her life, she had heard someone refute her.
The unfamiliar feeling startled Helen slightly, yet at the same time, she found her attention involuntarily drawn to Rast’s words.
Ice-blue letters appeared, a bit hesitant: “A beauty unique… to humans?”
She subconsciously turned around and glanced behind the throne—at the few fairy tale books she had carefully hidden away.
Those worn-out volumes were stacked in an unremarkable corner.
Though she had read them countless times, she still left a crease in one just now when a maid had interrupted her.
“Mm.”
Rast nodded, his gaze falling outside the palace—
At the never-changing cityscape drenched in sunset.
“Your Majesty, there is more to this world than just this royal city and the palace within.”
“There are many wonderful things waiting to happen—waiting for you to experience them.”
“Like the vast, surging ocean… or forests under the setting sun…”
“Like endless golden fields, or a magical academy with talking ermines and a gorilla in gold-rimmed glasses…”
“And things like kissing, hugging.”
“And also—”
His words paused slightly.
“The moment when a boy meets a girl and falls in love.”
In the frozen twilight—
A faint light flickered in the gray eyes of the queen with long, ice-blue hair.