Chapter 264: Succubus, Entry, Addiction

Chapter 264: Chapter 264: Succubus, Entry, Addiction

The night wind swept over the intricate, overlapping Technique Array above the Royal Capital, finally settling without a sound deep within Marquis Vesper’s Mansion.

The nominal master of this vast estate was Marquis Vesper.

But everyone in the Royal Capital’s high society knew full well that the Marquis was nothing more than an absolute joke.

Not only did he suffer from a severe Magic Potion addiction and a gambling problem, but he was also a physically incurable wreck and a psychologically masochistic coward infatuated with men.

Behind this powerless puppet, the one who truly controlled all of the mansion’s resources was the woman currently in the bedroom.

Seraphina von Visper was languidly reclining on a dark red velvet chaise.

She possessed a face of breathtaking beauty.

She had long, deep purple-red hair and a signature beauty mark beneath the corner of her eye.

With every rise and fall of her breath, her shockingly full bosom trembled slightly, sending soft ripples across the silk of her nightgown.

Concealed in the shadows of her nightgown, a slender black tail with a heart-shaped tip was coiled like a snake around her smooth, full thigh.

This, combined with her slightly pointed ears, proclaimed the Succubus bloodline flowing through her veins.

Besides being the master of the mansion, she was also the Elder Council’s most capable "White Gloves."

"Knock, knock."

Following a soft knock, a properly dressed maid, one of her confidantes, entered steadily, pushing a serving cart.

"My Lady."

The maid stopped before the chaise and bowed respectfully.

"Has there been any news in the Royal Capital these past couple of days?"

Seraphina’s voice carried a languid tone capable of melting one’s bones.

The maid began her report as she poured a glass of crimson fruit wine.

"According to our informants, Her Highness, Second Princess Elvira, has recently been aggressively gathering detailed intelligence on the movements of the Summer Crown in various regions."

Seraphina lifted the stemmed glass, gently swirling the viscous liquid within.

’That proud, arrogant little princess.’

’I suspect this is directly related to the Crimson Crown Knight Order she’s busy organizing.’

Seraphina brought the glass to her lips and took a delicate sip.

’Still, this means the time is near.’

’Her Highness Scarlett will be departing from the tower to return to the Royal Capital as well.’

Scarlett Pendragon—Elvira’s older sister, the mysterious Eldest Princess.

"After all, this concerns Her Highness Elvira’s future Heroic Profession."

"It’s only natural that Her Highness Scarlett would return personally to oversee things."

Typically, a Professional with information on a Heroic Profession would only attempt the associated trial after reaching the Excellence Tier.

Then, upon advancing to the Extraordinary Tier, they would transition into the Heroic Profession, beginning the long journey to becoming Legendary.

After all, attaining a Heroic Profession too early wasn’t necessarily a good thing. While it offered the possibility of constructing a more powerful Star Track...

...one misstep could completely halt one’s progress. The requirements were simply too difficult, and the demands on one’s Talent were even more stringent.

The Royal Family was not one to gamble on such odds.

To ensure that Elvira—the genius crown prince in whom they had placed such high hopes—could successfully reach the top, the Royal Family had already begun using its resources to lay the cornerstone for her Heroic Profession, even though she had yet to even reach the threshold of the Excellence Tier.

This extravagant funneling of resources was something no commoner Adventurer could ever hope to attain in their entire lifetime.

"Enough of this dull royal politicking."

Seraphina waved her free left hand, and her black, heart-tipped tail slapped irritably against the edge of the chaise from beneath her skirt.

She found the manuscripts submitted to *Midnight Rose*, the publication she oversaw, far more interesting than the tedious shifts in power.

The ones written by Minstrels were a particular favorite; the peculiar allure infused into their words was a hundred times more seductive than the dry, factual accounts of ordinary people.

Not that the publication should be underestimated.

*Midnight Rose* was the most beloved publication on the desks of the Royal Capital’s noblewomen. Through its romantic and sentimental content, Seraphina could subtly influence the conversational trends among the entire female aristocracy of the capital.

"Has the editorial department sent over any suitable manuscripts recently?"

Hearing her mistress’s question, the maid couldn’t help but cover her mouth and chuckle softly.

"I was just about to report on that very matter."

The maid retrieved a parchment manuscript, tied with a silk ribbon, from the bottom of the serving cart.

"The editorial department has been in an uproar over this new manuscript for the past two days."

"The editor-in-chief, Mr. Thomas, finds the descriptions far too explicit—downright indecent, in fact. He’s insisting on rejecting it outright."

"However, the Countess you invited over last time, Lady Margaret, is acting as if she’s possessed, vehemently demanding it be published in the next issue."

Hearing of this interesting conflict in her editorial department, Seraphina’s interest was suddenly piqued.

’To make someone as prim and proper as Margaret so utterly obsessed...’

’This was definitely not something ordinary writing could accomplish.’

Seraphina straightened up slightly, her gaze falling on the parchment in the maid’s hands.

"Is it because the text is imbued with ’Creative Tags’?"

The maid immediately nodded in confirmation.

"You’ve guessed correctly. It is indeed a manuscript infused with the Power of a Minstrel."

"Give the manuscript to me."

Seraphina extended her long, slender fingers.

In the world of Professionals, words themselves could be vessels for mystical Power.

As long as subsequent typesetting and editing didn’t forcefully disrupt the original text’s structure, the Magic Power of these Creative Tags would naturally remain intact.

Even when mass-produced and distributed by a printing press, it could affect every single reader.

That was why the Minstrel Association strictly controlled all manuscript submissions; a madman had once used the written word to commit a great and terrible act.

The maid respectfully presented the manuscript with both hands.

As a confidante who had served her lady for many years, the maid knew well that Seraphina had a private habit of being alone when reading such manuscripts.

Thus, she said no more. With great tact, she slowly backed out of the room with the serving cart, closing the door securely behind her.

Quiet returned once more to the spacious bedroom.

Seraphina leaned back against the soft pillows once more.

She nonchalantly untied the ribbon and opened the parchment manuscript, titled *Night of Melting Snow: The Fall of the Snow Woman*.

At first, she began to read with the simple intention of passing the time.

But as her eyes moved across the densely packed lines of text, the special Power of the Creative Tags imbued in the paper began to radiate out, silent and unseen.

Sub-human + Noblewoman

She was perfectly ensnared by these Creative Tags.

She felt as if she had been completely pulled into the story, able to even taste the breath shared between the characters.

She could see the face of the black-haired youth, but it was indistinct.

Yet every sensation was transmitted to her in exquisite detail.

The Snow Lady’s hollow, dull Perception of the world was suddenly ignited, an indescribable sensory awakening.

It was too stimulating.

At some point, Seraphina’s violet irises had transformed into dark red, slitted pupils.

An unnatural flush began to creep up Seraphina’s slightly pointed ears.

Her tail began to wander over her body of its own accord.

She felt her consciousness being forcibly pulled into the story, completely inhabiting the role of the Snow Lady. With every word, she sank deeper and deeper, unable to extricate herself.