You Will Be Better Than Him

That night, none of Everstar City's four main gates were closed.

"By the King's writ! Make way! Make way!" A dozen Knights, bearing both the Nine-Pointed Star Flag and the Cross Double Star Flag, galloped out of the city gate with stern faces.

"Are these all the messengers?" At the North City Gate, the City Guard captain watched them depart with a heavy expression.

"No." The city defense officer, who had rushed over, shook his head. "There are the other three gates too."

The messengers carried writs from Revival Palace, heading to the locations of those important figures—the city defense officer, who knew the inside story, thought to himself.

And that wasn't all. More were messenger crows—sent to nobles farther away.

"Something big has happened." The city defense officer, nearly fifty years old, patted the captain's shoulder and said softly.

Let's hope it's not another Year of Blood.

Having firmly declined Gilbert and Lady Jinnie's offer to accompany him ("Sorry, Mr. Gilbert, Lady Jinnie, but this is a Covenant between her and me. I have to face it alone—I promise I'll tell you what was said."—Tales shook his head resolutely), he walked silently beside Yordel.

For the first few minutes, neither spoke.

Until they turned a corner, leaving the nearest Guard behind the wall, Tales stopped and looked at the Masked Guard.

Yordel's steps halted as well.

"We need to talk," Tales said, his expression hesitant as he let out a deep breath, then added, "Privately."

Yordel walked up to him and silently crouched down.

"As you wish." The secret guard in the mask said, gently placing a hand on Tales's shoulder.

The next moment, a strange ripple spread out, and everything around Tales and Yordel turned into an eerie white.

Like another world.

"The Shadow Realm," Yordel explained briefly.

Tales nodded, but his expression remained serious, unswayed by the strange white backdrop—he had more important matters.

A silence fell between them.

"Yordel," Tales struggled to organize his words, forcing himself to speak:

"You... how much do you know about what happened between the Air Elementalist and me?"

Yordel was silent as always, merely lowering his head slightly to look at the black-haired, gray-eyed boy.

"When Morat wanted to go to the study for a private talk, you deliberately stopped him," Tales said softly, closing his eyes as he slowly pieced together the sequence of events, his voice heavy. "You knew the study on the third floor had special soundproofing that would block the Blood Race's hearing and sound transmission, so you insisted we talk on the second floor, to seek Serena's help and convey a crucial warning right under Morat's nose..."

"To let me fool Morat's seasoned interrogation and conceal..." Tales paused. He slowly opened his eyes, staring at the purple mask, before finally saying firmly, "...conceal my true identity."

"Is that right?"

Tales stared fixedly at the royal secret guard.

The mask remained motionless, facing him.

After another awkward silence, Yordel's gaze dropped slightly, and his low, hoarse voice came from behind the dark purple mask:

"I... I'm not like Gilbert..."

"...I'm not good with words."

Under Tales's complex gaze, the masked guard said heavily.

"Since Red Quarter, I haven't known how to bring it up."

Tales's eyes burned as he looked at him: "But you knew from the start."

Yordel's mask shifted slightly.

"Yes," his hoarse voice came from behind the mask.

"That night..."

"I was there the whole time," Yordel's voice was full of weight. "I heard what the Elementalist said."

"And I noticed your... unusual behavior, your strange reaction to the Elementalist, the vase that broke for no reason in the corridor, the explosion beneath Weed Manor..."

"So I knew you were..."

Tales took a deep breath: "Then my father..."

Yordel shook his head.

His voice seemed to come from another world, ringing in Tales's ears: "Only me, little sir. Only I know..."

The masked guard said no more.

Tales was stunned.

He stared blankly at this strange man who had always protected him but always hid his face behind a mysterious mask.

Yes, he had known all along.

And he had kept the secret for him.

"Why?" The boy heard his own voice wavering, filled with incredulous shock. "You know I'm one of those, those..."

Tales paused for a second.

He remembered the dark basement, Ashida's face flickering in the firelight.

In that moment, his tongue felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

But Tales still gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and forced out the term with difficulty and pain: "Calamity."

"You know how taboo those Calamities are—why would you still..."

Yordel slowly gripped his shoulders, cutting off Tales's train of thought.

"Child," he rasped.

"I've seen... many things, more than you might imagine."

"This kingdom and your family," he said softly, "from the very day they were born, were destined to be entangled with those Calamities."

"Six hundred years ago, so it was."

"Twelve years ago, so it was."

Tales's heart trembled.

Twelve years ago?

Entangled with Calamities—the Crescent Star Family?

"And now, so it is."

"I've seen those Calamities, more than once."

"I have a feeling."

"What's truly terrifying and fearsome isn't those Calamities."

"It's us."

"It's us ordinary people, and what we'll degenerate into, how far we'll rot, what bottom lines we'll sacrifice, for the sake of those so-called Calamities."

Yordel paused, as if searching for his next words.

"I know, you might be a 'Calamity.'" The usually silent Masked Guard spoke more in front of him than he ever had before.

He hesitated and said, "But I know that many people in this kingdom, even... have already become uglier and more terrifying than those Calamities."

"They've already brought calamity, without knowing it."

Tales frowned uncomfortably.

"Like Morat?"

"He's just one of them: the Black Prophet is no longer a prophet, only darkness remains."

Yordel looked up, his dark lenses reflecting the surrounding pallor, with Tales's figure standing isolated in the midst, looking thin and bleak.

"In comparison."

"Mr. Tales, I'd rather trust you."

Yordel seemed to have spoken more than he had in a long time, but his clumsy way of searching for words, and the honesty behind that demeanor, left Tales with a complicated feeling.

In that moment, the boy didn't know what expression or mindset to use in facing this secret guard.

"But why me?" Tales took three deep breaths and spoke again. "Just because I carry the blood of the Crescent Star Family?"

Yordel slowly shook his head.

"I'm not Gilbert. What I believe in isn't so-called bloodline."

"What I believe in is that seven-year-old boy who did everything to protect his companions in a hopeless situation—someone different from those ugly people."

"And I'm willing to believe that you, a Crescent Star born from humble beginnings, will become a king unlike any other in this rotting kingdom."

A king unlike any other?

Tales blurted out instinctively, "Like Crown Prince Midir, my uncle?"

Yordel was silent for a few seconds.

"No," the Masked Guard said, his voice low and sorrowful.

He rasped firmly, "You'll be better than him."

"I know, you have something in you that he doesn't."

Tales trembled slightly, his breathing quickening.

He stared at the expressionless Yordel, unable to speak for a long time.

A long moment passed.

"Thank you."

Having barely calmed himself, Tales could only utter those two words.

His usually sharp tongue was now utterly at a loss.

The Masked Guard, still on one knee, gave a heavy, firm nod.

Yordel spoke again, his voice hoarse.

This time, his words rang more sincere.

"Yordel Gato."

"At your service."

Tales took a deep breath.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

"One more thing," he heard himself ask, the words difficult.

"If you were there that night..."

"When... did you start being there?"

Yordel's hand dipped slightly.

Tales breathed raggedly, forcing the words out slowly.

"Did you see... did you see Quade in the Ruined House..." Tales clenched his teeth, his voice trembling as he asked: "...or not?"

The Masked Guard loosened his grip.

He said nothing.

Nothing.

In that moment, Tales felt only the cold of Yordel's mask, and the twin lenses upon it.

His heart suddenly went chill.

"You didn't stop him," Tales murmured, remembering the blood of that night.

"Not even when he entered our house... you didn't stop him..."

Tales asked, shaking.

"Why?"

"Wasn't the Prince... possibly among those beggars too?"

"And those children..."

Tales had suspected it all along.

But he hadn't dared to be sure.

He had to ask.

Yordel rose slowly, cutting him off.

"Time to go."

Yordel said flatly.

"They'll get suspicious."

In that moment, the Masked Guard was like a machine without emotion.

Reminding Tales of Ashida's smile.

Without warmth.

Though Serena's room wasn't as far as Jinnie's "a hundred meters away," it wasn't as close as he'd imagined either.

The Blood Race's guest quarters were set in the wide storage cellar of Mindis Hall, far from sunlight, crowds, and Tales.

"Good evening, Mr. Tales." The pale-faced Blood Race, the Old Butler who had lived who knew how many years, Chris Corleone, bowed slightly at the "doorway," flashing a dead man's smile at Yordel: "Welcome back, Masked Sir—you gave us quite a scare when you appeared so suddenly."

Yordel didn't reply.

Chris turned to Tales without concern, nodding lightly: "His Highness awaits your arrival."

Tales, his mood uneasy and complicated, looked up at Yordel beside him.

The latter's mask gave an almost imperceptible nod, then he moved to the other side of the door, standing like a second guard alongside Chris.

Tales nodded slightly too. After a deep breath, he pushed open the door and walked toward Serena Corleone, who was already waiting inside.

His savior from moments ago.

And the next trouble, after Morat.

"Ah, my long-awaited ally."

The little girl with crimson eyes looked profound, curtseying in her black dress.

"It seems, with my help," Serena, her words whistling through missing teeth, emphasized the word 'help' and continued with an unsettling smile: "you have escaped your troubles."

"Then it is time to discuss our payment and rewards, yes?"

(Chapter 33 occasionally gets censored, so I'm posting it here as a backup.)

Chapter 33: Donate a Bag of Blood, Save a Life

Serena was already waiting in her so-called "room."

Aside from two Eternal Lamps, it was pitch black—Tales suspected those lamps were lit for his sake as well.

Rolana and Istrone were nowhere to be seen.

Behind the little girl with blood-red pupils stood that absurdly oversized Black Coffin—if Tales hadn't seen with his own eyes how the Blood Race fiddled with a mechanism to fold it back down to the size of a normal coffin, he'd have wondered if they had some "Magic User" to haul it around.

But right now, staring at that Black Coffin, Tales furrowed his brow.

"What's wrong?" Serena asked curiously.

"Nothing." Tales's expression returned to normal as he swallowed back the words, Why did you put a toilet in the middle of your room?

"I've come to thank my ally for the support—Seren, may I call you that?"

Serena's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, and her baby-fat face pouted.

Just support, just an ally's duty, not a favor that needs repaying?

What a cunning, nitpicking little brat.

Serena thought with displeasure.

"All I did was pass along a few cryptic words—you'd better call me Lady Serena—and incidentally, I got my hands on some of your dirty little secrets," Serena tilted her head, flashing a cute little-girl smile. "As they say in Suye... 'Why not kill two birds with one stone?'"

"Right, especially when it comes to my dear ally, who's got such a murky relationship with a Magic User?"

A moment of silence passed between them.

As expected, you old hag, Tales thought to himself. She wouldn't let that slide.

"No, your help was important to me, and I'm grateful." Tales smiled shyly, his eyes sincere, like a grateful little boy.

"Otherwise, in front of the Black Prophet, I might have spilled everything—the Corleone clan's infighting, the truth about your refuge in the Star Kingdom. That's the Black Prophet, after all. Who knows what terrible things he could do with those secrets?"

"I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to my ally—I hope you feel the same, Seren."

Serena's gaze turned cold in an instant.

"Not willing to take a loss, are you, my ally?" She deliberately forced a smile, revealing her tiny fangs. "And don't call me Seren."

That trick doesn't scare me anymore. Tales found it amusing to watch Serena, who looked five or six years old, curl her lips at him.

"I thought allies were supposed to trust each other, not trade threats." Tales's smile grew brighter as he stepped forward. "We share the same interests, dear Seren."

"Since we share the same interests—please call me Lady Serena—then show a little more sincerity. For instance, my subordinates and I all need more blood. Fresh blood." Serena's red pupils focused as she stepped forward too, locking eyes with Tales.

Sure enough, old habits die—cough, cough.

"Fresh human blood is a bit tricky—but I've come this time to fulfill the Covenant," Tales said, taking a deep breath and stepping forward to meet those red eyes, forcing the image of the Mummy out of his mind. He smiled. "To bind our shared interests even tighter—Seren."

Seren? This insolent Short-Lived Species, Serena thought with a flicker of irritation. Just wait until I take back my throne from that bitch...

She watched Tales's easy smile.

"Hmph, so that's it," Serena chuckled, her small mouth curving upward. "You've finally made up your mind to propose to me, haven't you?"

Uh—

Tales felt his worldview shudder.

He wore an expression like he'd just eaten something foul, helplessly staring at the four-hundred-year-old hag who was smirking triumphantly.

You win.

Tales let out a sigh, and under Serena's gleaming gaze, he rolled up his left sleeve, extending his bare wrist toward the red-eyed little girl.

"My blood—this is the agreed Covenant." He said flatly.

A flicker of surprise crossed Serena's face, then melted into a smile. "Now I believe in your sincerity, dear ally."

I thought he'd keep dodging this forever.

The Archduchess closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and her smile grew wider and wider.

This boy isn't so bad after all.

"Remember, one-eighth of a pint, Seren." Tales's expression was grave, his breathing quick. "No more."

"But no less either." Serena opened her eyes, ignoring his choice of address, and smiled eerily. "I'll control the blood volume."

The little girl's face showed a look of intoxication and fervor.

It was only at moments like this that the uneasy Tales truly felt he was facing a four- or five-hundred-year-old Blood Race Archduchess.

Blood volume?

Could you pick a different word?

Tales watched Serena, who had now turned into a gourmand, and swallowed hard.

The shadow of the "Mummy" from before lingered, refusing to fade.

"Hey, can't you soften your gaze a little..."

"That expression's freaking me out, giving me the creeps..."

"Ah—give me a hint, sis, don't just lunge in with that bloody maw!"

"Ow! It hurts, it hurts!"

Tales' panicked voice came from the room.

Yordel's mask twitched, his body about to move, but the Blood Race's Old Butler blocked him.

"This is their Covenant," Chris said coldly, staring down the Masked Guard without flinching.

Before the fangs of the Blood Race, humans were always the weaker side.

Even if that whelp—that child—was the heir apparent of the Western Continent's second-strongest kingdom.

But as the bloodsucking continued...

Something seemed—off?

Tales' voice came again from inside the Black Coffin.

Chris's expression grew uglier by the second.

"Alright, keep this rhythm."

"Stay rational, don't cross the line."

"Serena, be good, for my health's sake, slow down..."

Chris's face shifted from pale to livid.

Damn Short-Lived Species.

Was that brat doing it on purpose?

He glared viciously at Yordel across from him.

Yordel's hand, raised mid-air, paused.

Chris's cheek twitched as he saw Yordel turn his palms outward and make a "helpless" gesture.

"Indeed," the Masked Guard rasped, resigned. "This is their Covenant."

Yordel casually stepped back to the doorway, clasping his hands behind him again.

Before Chris could storm into the room, Serena finally had her fill of blood, satisfied as she released the tense-faced Tales and licked her crimson lips.

"Thanks for the hospitality," the red-eyed loli girl said sweetly.

"You're welcome," replied Tales, pale as death, sitting on the floor with a sour look, rubbing the two small holes on his wrist, his mouth opening and closing:

"Donate a bag of blood, save a life."

He felt like she'd secretly sucked way more than she should have.

"Don't worry, that child is tougher than we think," Gilbert said as he walked down to the first-floor hall, looking at the dazed Jinnie.

Just then, from outside Mindis Hall came the sound of a galloping horse.

Gilbert's face changed—it was a mounted messenger.

"Looks like it's going to be a busy night," Jinnie said, snapping back to reality, her gaze complicated as she watched the messenger respectfully hand over a Wax-Sealed Scroll with the Nine-Pointed Star Seal.

Gilbert broke the wax and unrolled the scroll, his expression growing heavier with each line.

"Something big has happened." Gilbert lowered the scroll, his brow deeply furrowed. "His Majesty urgently summons us to the palace."

"Of course, you're his most trusted Attendant Officer and Former Foreign Minister," Jinnie sighed, turning nonchalantly and heading upstairs. "As for me, forget it—I'd rather stay here and watch over that child."

"No."

Gilbert turned to Jinnie, his expression graver than ever.

He lifted the top edge of the scroll toward her and gave it a light flick.

At the bottom of the paper, Kessel the Radiant Star's signature and the Nine-Pointed Star Seal were revealed.

"His Majesty urgently summons all of us to proceed immediately to Revival Palace."

"Including that child."

Believe it or not, I really did double-update today. —Wu Jian, with a serious face

PS: Heard it's Qixi Festival today? Anyone else spending it solo like Wu Jian?