At that very moment, in the VIP ward of the Imperial Royal Hospital—the finest medical facility in the Empire—
the luxurious private room had descended into complete chaos.
Mikhail, wrapped head to toe in bandages, was rampaging like a mad beast.
His face had been smashed so thoroughly that it was barely recognizable anymore.
"My face!"
He hurled another mirror across the room.
"My perfect, handsome face! How dare that lowborn bitch do this to me?!"
Crash!
The mirror shattered against the wall.
Broken glass and smashed porcelain littered the floor.
Terrified nurses huddled in corners, trembling as Mikhail destroyed everything within reach.
But amidst the chaos, Laura wasn't paying attention to him at all.
Curled up on a sofa in the corner, she was suffering from withdrawal so severe that her fingernails had bitten her lips and fingers bloody.
The demon that had once clung to her shoulders and supplied her with endless magical power was gone.
Completely gone.
Ever since Violetta's merciless morningstar had shattered and annihilated it at the wedding, Laura had felt as though part of her soul had been ripped away.
An unbearable emptiness consumed her.
A bone-deep cold gnawed at her body.
She trembled violently, teeth chattering.
"Vivi..."
Her bloodshot eyes filled with hatred.
"That damned bitch broke my wings..."
Her voice cracked.
"How dare she... how dare she destroy my precious demon..."
The murderous intent in her gaze was enough to chill the room.
Looking around carefully, Laura pulled a small communication device from inside her dress.
A black gemstone was embedded in its center.
She needed to contact him immediately.
One of the highest-ranking leaders of the Demon-Worshipping Cult.
As she poured mana into the gemstone, a cold, sinister presence emerged from the other side.
Laura bit her lip.
"Send your most reliable assassin."
Her voice shook with rage.
"The cruelest one you have."
"I want that woman dead before sunrise."
At that moment, Laura made a fatal mistake.
She had completely forgotten that the person she was targeting wasn't an ordinary noble lady.
She was a lunatic who beat ghosts to death with a giant metal club.
Meanwhile—
At the luxurious VIP residence attached to the Headquarters of the Inquisition.
Thanks to my status as the head of the prestigious Eberhardt family, I had been assigned accommodations that rivaled the finest hotels in the Empire.
Technically, I was being detained.
In practice?
I was enjoying room service.
Lying atop an absurdly soft bed, I stared into a hand mirror with the gravest expression imaginable.
Then I sighed.
"Ugh..."
I touched my cheek.
"It's so dry."
Another sigh escaped.
"What happened to my skin?"
Frankly, today's schedule had been less "noble lady" and more "survivor of a disaster movie."
I had smashed up an entire wedding with a holy weapon.
Been dragged away by knights.
Endured endless interrogations.
And along the way, I'd stopped to beat up every ghost and evil spirit unfortunate enough to cross my path.
Naturally, my skin was suffering.
The complexion reflected in the mirror looked as lifeless as a drought-stricken rice field.
The struggle to protect my precious hundred-billion-gold inheritance was visibly etched across my face.
This could not stand.
Fresh from a hot bath, I retrieved a luxury moisturizing sheet mask from my luggage and carefully applied it.
The cool essence soaked into my skin.
Instantly, all the tension in my body began to melt away.
Then I slipped into an elegant silk night robe.
I might be imprisoned by the Inquisition.
But dignity and skincare were non-negotiable.
Leaning comfortably against the headboard, I closed my eyes.
"Perfect."
I smiled.
"Twenty minutes of healing."
"Then sleep."
"And don't forget to remove the mask first."
Bliss.
Silence settled over the room.
Sleep was beginning to claim me.
Then—
Scratch.
A faint sound came from the window.
So subtle that most people would have mistaken it for leaves brushing against stone.
Not me.
Years of beating monsters and evil spirits had sharpened my senses.
Someone was climbing onto the windowsill.
Stealthily.
I frowned without opening my eyes.
...Seriously?
The Inquisition's security is this bad?
A moment later—
Click.
The window lock disengaged.
The frame slid open soundlessly.
Cold night air poured inside.
Along with it came the unmistakable scent of blood and sewage.
I sighed.
Ah.
That wasn't the smell of ordinary thieves.
These were particularly filthy bastards.
The kind who collected evil spirits like decorative accessories.
Three assassins slipped through the window.
Each wore black clothing and a mask.
Behind them coiled masses of shadowy spirits.
The creatures twisted like serpents, crimson eyes glowing with murderous hunger.
I carefully pressed the edges of my facial mask so it wouldn't peel off.
Then sighed again.
"Seriously..."
My precious twenty-minute healing session.
Ruined.
The effectiveness of my skincare routine was probably being reduced by stress as we spoke.
Without moving from the bed, I lazily addressed them.
"Hey."
The assassins froze.
"The one who stepped on the windowsill."
I pointed vaguely toward the window.
"You're tracking mud all over the floor."
A pause.
"The maid literally cleaned this room an hour ago."
Silence.
The assassins stared.
Apparently, they'd expected screaming.
Not housekeeping complaints.
The leader recovered first.
Drawing a dagger coated in gleaming poison, he sneered.
"Sharp eyes."
His grin widened beneath the mask.
"But it won't matter."
"You'll die tonight."
"Try not to suffer."
With that, he lunged.
His blade shot toward my throat.
At the same time, the evil spirit clinging to his shoulder sprang forward first.
Greedy little thing.
It wanted the tastiest soul before its host could claim the kill.
I pressed my sheet mask against my cheek and glared.
"Breaking into someone's room without permission."
My voice turned cold.
"Your manners are terrible."
WHAM!
The impact echoed through the suite.
At some point, my favorite work partner had appeared in my hand.
A giant metal club rested beside my bed at all times.
Naturally.
The weapon struck with perfect precision.
Not the assassin.
The evil spirit attached to him.
The creature's head exploded.
Against my unique ability to physically strike spiritual beings, even the most vicious ghosts were little more than punching bags.
The sensation transferred directly to the host.
The assassin received every ounce of pain from his spirit's destruction.
"GUAAAH!"
He flew backward before he could even swing his dagger.
His body smashed into the marble wall.
CRACK!
Several bones broke instantly.
The man collapsed unconscious.
One down.
The remaining assassins stumbled backward in horror.
"W-What was that?!"
"What did you do?!"
"Magic?!"
From their perspective, a woman wearing silk pajamas and a moisturizing facial mask had casually swung a massive iron club—
and sent a grown man flying across the room.
Reasonable reactions, honestly.
I rested the club against my shoulder and walked toward them.
"What did I do?"
I smiled politely.
"It's called physical therapy."
The two men instinctively searched for an escape route.
I clicked my tongue.
"Honestly."
"There are way too many blood-attracted ghosts stuck to you."
I pointed at their shoulders.
"Heavy, aren't they?"
Their expressions stiffened.
"That's what's causing your chronic fatigue."
I smiled brightly.
"Today I'm offering a free treatment."
Trying to bury their fear beneath anger, both assassins charged.
"You monster!"
"Shut up and die!"
They split apart.
One attacked from the right.
The other from the left.
Poisoned blades flashed through the darkness like serpent fangs.
But to me?
Everything looked painfully slow.
Because the idiots attached to them were broadcasting their intentions in advance.
The evil spirits shrieked instructions into their hosts' ears.
"Stab from the right!"
"Aim for her legs!"
"Kill her!"
I could hear every word.
Honestly, getting hit at that point would have required effort.
I tilted my head and casually avoided the first strike.
"The right side?"
I laughed.
"Nope."
"Too slow."
Before my sentence even finished, I lowered my body and drove the thick shaft of the club upward.
CRACK!
The assassin's jaw exploded.
Blood sprayed through the air.
His eyes rolled back instantly.
Without stopping, I spun.
The heavy head of the club slammed into the evil spirit attached to the second assassin's waist.
The creature shrieked.
"KYYYYAAAAAH!"
Then it disintegrated.
The pain transferred directly to its host.
The assassin vomited blood and collapsed.
Ten seconds.
That was all it took.
Ten seconds for three of the Empire's most infamous assassins to become twitching heaps on the floor.
The remnants of their attached spirits emerged from their unconscious bodies.
Screaming.
Panicking.
Trying desperately to flee.
I frowned.
"Where do you think you're going?"
My voice turned icy.
"If I'm doing a deep cleaning, I'm finishing the after-service too."
One particularly large spirit darted toward the window.
I grabbed its tail with my bare hand.
The instant my purification energy touched it—
Sssssss!
Its body began dissolving like flesh dropped into acid.
The spirit screamed.
I stared directly into its red eyes.
"Listen carefully."
The creature froze.
"Go back to your idiot master."
My grip tightened.
"And tell them this."
I smiled.
"This time, I'm letting the assassins live."
The spirit trembled violently.
"But if they send another nuisance like this..."
I lifted the club slightly.
"...I'll personally smash that ridiculous mask off their face."
The spirit made a pathetic squeaking sound.
Then bolted through the open window and vanished into the darkness.
Peace returned to the room.
More or less.
Though the unconscious assassins scattered across the floor did ruin the atmosphere.
I patted the edges of my facial mask back into place and turned toward my bed.
Then—
BOOM!
The door exploded open.
The hinges nearly tore free.
"Lady Violetta!"
Damian's voice thundered through the room.
"Are you unharmed?!"
The Grand Commander of the Holy Knights stood in the doorway.
His breathing was ragged.
His usually flawless appearance was in complete disarray.
His face was pale as death.
The hand gripping his holy sword trembled slightly.
Moments earlier, he'd received an emergency report.
Unknown assassins had infiltrated the Inquisition.
Convinced that the noblewoman under his protection might already be dead, he'd sprinted through the halls without even noticing that one of his shoes had nearly come off.
He had imagined countless horrific scenes on the way here.
Blood.
Murder.
A mutilated corpse.
Instead, what greeted him was—
A shattered window.
Three enormous assassins lying unconscious on the floor, limbs bent at unnatural angles.
And standing calmly in the center of it all—
A woman wearing an elegant silk robe.
A moisturizing sheet mask stretched across her face.
Carefully polishing an absurdly large iron club with a handkerchief.
Me.
Startled by the dramatic entrance, I looked up.
Still holding the club.
Still wearing the facial mask.
Then blinked.
"Oh?"
I tilted my head.
"Commander?"