Episode-855
Chapter : 1709
"Then why did you stay silent?" she whispered, tears fresh on her cheeks.
"Because," Lloyd replied, his voice full of rare human warmth, "I saw the desperate, protective silence in your eyes. I realized you were keeping the secret to protect my peace of mind. I decided that if you were brave enough to carry that burden for me, the least I could do as a soldier was carry it for you in return. I was simply waiting for you to be ready to tell me."
The revelation broke the last of Mina’s tension. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing with relief.
"Did she... did she say anything about the baby?" Mina asked, her voice trembling.
"She knows it is still her beloved sister’s baby," Lloyd said. "But she didn't curse it. She just... let it go."
Mina covered her face with her hands, crying softly. Lloyd sat there, watching her. He felt a profound sense of isolation. He was sitting with the person he was closest to in the world, and yet, there was a canyon of secrets between them now.
He had saved her peace of mind, but the cost was his own integrity. He was the only keeper of the tragedy. He was the only one who knew that Rosa wasn't on a pilgrimage of self-discovery; she was in a self-imposed hell, mourning a husband who was sitting right here, lying to her sister.
"Rest, Mina," he said, standing up. The room felt too small. The air felt too warm. He needed to be somewhere cold. Somewhere sterile. "You need to stay strong. For him." He glanced at her stomach.
"I will," she promised, wiping her eyes. "Thank you, Lloyd. For everything. For... for letting her go."
I didn't let her go, Lloyd thought as he walked to the door. I broke her.
"Goodbye, Mina," he said.
He left the Siddik estate. He walked through the bustling streets of the capital. The sun was shining. People were laughing. The AURA shops were full of customers. His empire was thriving. The world was moving on, oblivious to the fact that one of its Sovereigns had just been erased from the board.
But the world felt quieter to Lloyd. Less vibrant. The colors seemed muted, washed out by the grey filter of his secret.
He realized then that Rosa had been a constant frequency in his life. A cold, high-pitched hum of challenge and intellect that he had grown used to. Now that it was gone, the silence was deafening. It was a vacuum that sucked the joy out of the air.
He walked back to his manufactory. He walked past the guards who saluted him, past the clerks who bowed, down into the depths of the earth, into the Iron Womb.
He stood in front of the Aegis suit. The massive, matte-black machine loomed over him, silent and waiting. It was a tool of war. It didn't feel. It didn't regret. It didn't have to lie to the people it loved.
Lloyd placed his hand on the cold steel of the leg plating. He felt a kinship with the machine. They were both shells, built for a purpose, hollow on the inside.
"Administrator," Lloyd said into the quiet of the lab.
[Yes, User.] The synthetic voice was a comfort. Pure logic. No emotion.
"Open a new file," Lloyd said. "Project Name: Winter Protocol."
[File created. Purpose?]
"Surveillance," Lloyd said, his voice flat. "Re-task the Echoes in the northern sector. Adjust the magical sensitivity of the long-range scanners. I want a passive sweep of the Northern Glaciers. Continuous. Indefinite."
[Target parameters?]
"Target: High-density Cryo-Mana signature," Lloyd whispered. "Target: The Queen."
[Understood. Scanning initiated. Alert protocols?]
"None," Lloyd said. "If you find her... do not engage. Do not alert. Just... record. I just need to know she is still there."
[Confirmed.]
Lloyd leaned his forehead against the cold steel of the Aegis. He closed his eyes.
In the darkness behind his eyelids, he didn't see the schematics of the suit or the map of the Devil's territories. He saw a flash of silver hair disappearing into the clouds. He saw the look in her eyes just before the madness took her—the terrifying, vulnerable plea of a girl who just wanted to be seen.
He had won the battle. He had saved his secret. He had protected Mina.
But still he felt a sense of guilt deep down in his heart.
Chapter : 1710
The solar located in the eastern wing of the Ferrum estate was a room designed for secrets. It wasn’t a place for grand declarations or public spectacles. It was a space of heavy velvet drapes, thick stone walls that absorbed sound, and a silence so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing against your eardrums. The late afternoon sun filtered through the high, narrow windows, casting long, distorted shadows across the Persian rugs, turning the dust motes into suspended particles of gold. It was a beautiful room, objectively speaking, but right now, to Lloyd, it felt less like a solar and more like the waiting room for a very high-stakes execution.
Lloyd stood by the fireplace, staring into the cold, empty grate. He was wearing his usual attire—a crisp, dark tunic that hinted at military precision without being an actual uniform—but he felt exposed. Beside him, seated on a plush armchair that looked far too comfortable for the occasion, was Mina. She was pale, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She looked like a porcelain doll that was terrified of shattering. Lloyd reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, a small, grounding gesture. It was meant to comfort her, but in reality, he was checking to make sure his own hand wasn’t shaking.
They had summoned the matriarchs.
It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke or a horror story. In the hierarchy of terrifying things Lloyd had faced—which included literal demons, ancient golems, and assassin squads—this specific meeting ranked disturbingly high. He wasn’t afraid of physical violence. If Duchess Milody or Lady Nilufa Siddik decided to attack him, he could neutralize the threat in under a second. But this wasn’t a battlefield where steel and fire dictated the outcome. This was the drawing room, the domain of tea, subtle insults, and political maneuvering so sharp it could cut your throat before you even realized you were bleeding.
The heavy mahogany doors opened. There was no creak, no dramatic fanfare. Just the silent, smooth swing of well-oiled hinges.
Duchess Milody entered first. Lloyd’s mother moved with a grace that made the air seem to part around her. She wore a gown of deep midnight blue, her silver hair perfectly coiffed, her expression one of serene, impenetrable calm. She didn’t look like a woman walking into a crisis; she looked like she was strolling through a garden. But Lloyd knew better. He knew that behind those calm eyes was a mind that calculated political variables faster than his logic engine processed arithmetic. She glanced at Lloyd, then at Mina, her gaze lingering for a fraction of a second too long on Mina’s clasped hands.
Following her was Lady Nilufa Siddik. The matriarch of the South looked older than Milody, her face etched with the lines of a decade-long coma and the sorrow of a fractured family. Yet, she walked with a steel spine. She wore the vibrant silks of her homeland, but her expression was somber. She had been summoned urgently, and for a woman who had lost ten years of her life to a curse, urgency usually meant tragedy.
"Mother. Lady Nilufa," Lloyd said, his voice steady. He bowed, a precise, formal angle. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
Milody glided to a sofa opposite Mina and sat down, arranging her skirts with meticulous care. "When my son sends a message marked 'Absolute Priority' that isn't about a goblin invasion or a new soap fragrance, I tend to pay attention," she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "Although, judging by the atmosphere in here, I assume we aren't celebrating a new business merger."
Nilufa sat beside her, her gaze fixed on Mina. "You look pale, child," she said softly. "Is it your health? Has the northern chill finally taken hold of you?"
Mina flinched slightly at her mother’s concern. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She looked at Lloyd, her eyes wide with panic. It was the look of someone standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for permission to jump.
Lloyd stepped forward, placing himself between the women and Mina, acting as a shield against the inevitable blast. He took a breath. He ran through a dozen tactical simulations in his head—how to phrase it, how to soften the blow, how to spin the narrative. But in the end, he realized there was no strategic way to drop a bomb. You just had to let it fall.