Chapter 183: Plontis
"WHAT?!"
Alyssa’s shriek tore through the air with enough force to make both the Empress and Aaron flinch. The two of them turned to look at her simultaneously, and the weight of that shared glance alone was enough to send her shrinking back into herself.
She was lucky, as it turned out, because the Empress had far more pressing concerns than a tiny mushfolk’s inability to keep her volume in check.
Her mind was still refusing to process the full weight of the words the young man across from her had just spoken.
He — a mere mortal — had been tasked with courting her? Her?
The temperature inside the room dropped without warning, sudden and absolute. A suffocating pressure descended over everything, pressing down on both Aaron and Alyssa like a physical thing, dense and inescapable.
Aaron gripped the armrests of his chair and held himself still, projecting the most composed, unreadable expression he could manage.
Alyssa had no such reserves to draw from.
Under the weight of that pressure, she had already crumpled to her knees — which, given her current position, meant she was kneeling directly on top of his.
He endured it without a word, utterly committed to presenting a front that offered the Empress nothing to work with.
Or at least, that was how he chose to picture it. Because in the Empress’s vision, the reality was considerably less impressive.
She could see him with the kind of clarity that left nothing to interpretation — the nervous excitement running beneath his skin, the adrenaline moving through him in quick, restless pulses, giving everything away without his permission.
But when she noticed Alyssa’s condition beginning to deteriorate, the Empress drew in a slow, measured breath — and when she exhaled, the pressure dissolved into the air as cleanly as if it had never existed. The tightly woven threads of purplish mana scattered and vanished, slipping entirely from his senses.
"Is that really the mission you have received?" the Empress asked, her voice perfectly even, her hand lifting her teacup as though nothing of any consequence had occurred.
Aaron swallowed, feeling the cold composure radiating off her like a wall of ice, but he held his nerve and committed fully to the path he had already chosen. "Yes, Empress."
"I see..."
And then she said nothing more.
The silence that followed stretched on for several long minutes, thick and undisturbed.
Neither Aaron nor Alyssa dared to fill it. The room settled into an uncomfortable, heavily weighted stillness that sat on the chest.
"What is your class called?" she asked at last.
"The class I will be advancing to is called Primordial Consort, Empress." Aaron replied without missing a beat.
She gave a single, small nod. "And the current one?"
"...It’s called Boy Toy." He said it noticeably quieter this time.
The Empress fell silent again. Her hidden vision settled on him with the focused intensity of someone reading between every line, peeling back each layer to separate truth from performance — though she already knew, before she even looked, that he was telling the truth.
There was no logical universe in which someone would fabricate being a Boy Toy.
And yet his honesty irritated her more, not less. He carried that class, with everything it implied, and still had the nerve to stand here and speak of courting her?
From the name of the class alone, she could infer that he already had a lover — possibly more than one — and he was still presenting himself at her door?
She let the thought settle, then spoke. "Do you already have a partner? If so, how many? And are they aware of one another, or are you simply cheating on all of them?"
"I have three lovers at present, Empress. They are aware of each other, and I am with all of them with their full consent." He answered without flinching, having already calculated that honesty, for all its risks, was considerably less dangerous than being caught in a lie.
He couldn’t afford deception with a woman of her power. Not completely, anyway.
He had, admittedly, taken a small liberty with the truth earlier — his actual mission was simply to reach Drax, and the courting was, strictly speaking, a separate matter.
But it wasn’t an outright lie either, because the opportunity to court her was real, and it was one he genuinely intended to pursue. And even if the reward attached to the second mission had been far less extraordinary, he still would have wanted to.
That much was simply true.
"Three?" The Empress blinked. "Is polygamy considered normal in Solaris?"
"Quite the opposite, Empress. It is heavily looked down upon. In Solaris, it is the norm for men to be significantly weaker than women, which makes the dynamic... uncommon."
A brief silence followed. He felt her gaze pressing into him like something tangible — searching, unhurried, comprehensive. It was the particular discomfort of being looked at by someone who could see things you had not chosen to reveal, and under it, he felt entirely transparent. As though she could lift every carefully maintained layer away without effort and find whatever was underneath.
"You have an abnormal talent in magic," she observed. "I imagine that is what makes you so uniquely appealing? You used it as bait to win those girls over, hmm?" There was no accusation in her tone — only a quiet, genuine curiosity.
Aaron leaned forward, just slightly. A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Yep. The unknown is both frightening and addictive — depends entirely on how you look at it." His grin widened. "Why? Does the Empress judge poor me for relying on such methods?"
She scoffed softly and raised one hand with a dismissive wave, and as she did, something extended out from the wall to her side — a flat, rectangular surface made entirely of condensed magic, resembling a screen.
It hovered between them at an angle, its surface dark and slowly, steadily brightening.
"Plontis," she said, the word leaving her lips with quiet authority.
The black screen responded instantly, flooding with light to reveal a clean white room that Aaron recognized without any effort at all.
He would have recognised it anywhere. It was the very place he had been brought to at the beginning of this trial.
A cold bead of sweat traced a slow line down his forehead as the implication of what she was doing crystallized in his mind.
And then, as he had expected, the familiar figure appeared.
The old man stood as tall and unbothered as ever, his dark skin catching the light cleanly, his grey hair immaculate and perfectly arranged.
He carried himself with the practiced poise of someone entirely at ease — until he looked into the screen.
Then, in a single moment, everything about him stiffened. The ease evaporated. What replaced it was careful, respectful attention.
"Empress of Serenity, Lady Bellanoir." He bowed with smooth precision, his voice unhurried and eloquent. "To what do I owe the pleasure, m’lady?"
"Plontis." The Empress — Bella — returned his greeting with a calm nod. "Mind explaining why there is a human walking freely in my realm?" She lifted her teacup and took a small, unhurried sip as she waited.
Sweat immediately gathered at the old man’s temple, his eyes widening by a fraction. "Did that rat offend you, Empress?! Give me the word and I will have him removed immediately."
"Silence." Bella raised one hand, and Plontis’s mouth shut as though the word itself had physically closed it.
It was obvious, from the ease with which he had suggested erasure, that he couldn’t see Aaron sitting on the other side of the screen.
Had he been able to, he likely would have chosen his words with considerably more care.
Aaron’s jaw tightened. His eyes fixed on the flickering surface of the screen, something quiet and steady burning behind them.
Every part of him wanted to say something — to reach through that screen and make his feelings on the matter absolutely known.
But he knew precisely where he stood and what he was capable of. He swallowed it.
The Empress had noticed his expression but let it pass without remark, keeping her attention on Plontis.
"Your hearing seems to be failing you, Plontis," she said, her voice carrying the particular brand of coldness that suggested a great deal more than the words themselves did. "Perhaps it is time to consider retirement."
Fresh sweat tumbled down the man’s forehead. "I — I sincerely apologise, Lady Bel—"
"Empress."
He corrected himself immediately. "I sincerely apologise, Empress. I did not intend to sidestep your original question. That man is present in the realm to complete a mission tied to his class advancement."
When Bella remained silent, Plontis understood the expectation and pressed forward without waiting to be prompted.
"He originates from a small experimental world called Solaris. Modest beginnings, poor class — but his talent is something else entirely. Exceptional enough that I considered the possibility he might carry the potential to become the next Primordial Consort."
"Eager to be relieved of your post, are we?" Bella mused.
"Of — of course not, Empress. My life belongs to the Primordials. I will live and die in their service." He straightened and struck his chest with a closed fist, the picture of dutiful loyalty.
"Save the performance for Karen." Bella raised her hand to cover another yawn, entirely unbothered. "What mission, specifically, did you give him?"
A beat of silence.
’Oh, fuck.’