CHAPTER 128: [DUKE IN DISTRESS]

Yue watched him, her brows furrowed with concern.

Kael looked like a man who had just read his own obituary—and found it poorly written.

"...Did you forget to turn off the lights?" she asked awkwardly. "Or maybe... forgot to flush?"

Kael turned to her slowly, as if dragging his soul back from the abyss.

He opened his mouth to speak—but the words died before they formed.

Instead, he sighed and looked back at the glowing screen before him.

###

[Primary Mission Unlocked]

[Change the fate of the doomed Kingdom of Velmora]

[Reward: Eye of the Fallen Fate Angel (??? Rank)]

###

Even the name sounded terrifyingly overpowered.

And Kael? He had a thing for fate.

Always had.

Which made this so much worse.

Because of course the system didn’t bother to rank it.

No grade. No estimate.

Just a name soaked in mystery and quiet, cosmic threat.

The bastard thing was baiting him.

And he knew it.

The mission was simple, in the most soul-destroying way possible:

Change the fate of the doomed kingdom.

Kael stared at the words like they were a death sentence wrapped in glitter.

Yue floated closer, visibly more worried now.

"Kael? Are you... not feeling well?"

"I’m fine," he muttered. "Just emotionally unstable."

Yue nodded, smiling proudly.

"Good.

That’s my area of expertise.

I’m your emotional support ghost."

Kael let out a small, dry laugh.

But inside?

He was in shambles.

His whole plan—let the kingdom burn, grab some wine, disappear into the Empire, maybe flirt with a librarian—was crumbling like wet paper.

He’d already mapped escape routes.

He’d even practiced his fake identities.

All useless now.

Because the system had decided he was a savior.

Because fate—cruel, bloodthirsty fate—refused to leave him alone.

He slumped slightly in his seat, staring blankly as if waiting for reality to apologize.

And then—

Chime.

The inn door creaked open.

Kael looked up, just as a girl stepped inside—wrapped in flowing yellow robes, embroidered with soft silver thread.

A white ceremonial mask obscured her face, though it couldn’t hide the delicate grace with which she moved.

It had to be her.

Duchess Selvaris had mentioned her daughter would be in yellow.

The girl’s gaze swept the room until it landed on him:

Black-cloaked, seated alone, watching with a stillness that unnerved most.

She smiled and walked toward him with a kind of rehearsed elegance, the kind nobles practiced in mirrors.

Her movements were light, almost too careful—as if this was a stage and she didn’t want to miss her cue.

Kael stood.

They exchanged formal greetings.

She sat across from him with a dramatic flourish, folding her hands in her lap before suddenly gasping.

"Oh! I forgot to introduce myself." She beamed.

"I’m Mirielle—daughter of Duchess Selvaris, and priestess of the Church of the Night Goddess in Velmora."

Kael offered a polite nod.

Yue, hovering invisibly at his side, had already narrowed her eyes, arms crossed like a skeptical aunt at a bad matchmaking dinner.

Mirielle continued, her voice bright and breathless.

"I’ve heard so many stories about you!

I was really hoping we could meet.

You’re so... fascinating!"

She leaned forward, tilting her head at an angle she probably thought was cute.

Her hands fluttered constantly—touching her mask, fixing her hair, gesturing far too dramatically.

It felt less like a conversation and more like she was auditioning for a tragic romance play.

Yue and Kael stared.

Deadpan.

Flat.

Emotionless.

To them, her behavior didn’t read as charming or mysterious.

It read as unhinged.

"...Kael," Yue whispered without taking her eyes off the girl.

"She’s not actually crazy, right? Should we... should we call a priest?"

Kael replied under his breath, "She is a priest."

Yue blinked.

"Oh. Then she’s beyond saving."

She turned solemn.

"Well.

All the best, Kael.

As your former emotional support ghost, I officially withdraw.

May the Night Goddess have mercy on your soul, because I sure as hell won’t be here to help."

Kael gave her a side-eye.

"What the hell? You just abandoned ship in five seconds flat?"

"She’s wearing yellow. No sane person wears yellow willingly," Yue muttered.

Kael sighed and turned back to Mirielle, just in time to realize she had been watching him the entire time—probably mistaking his blank stare as a sign of emotional depth.

"Your turn," she said, eyes wide with interest.

Kael cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I’m... Kaelion Drenlor. Duke of the Western Province," he said, then added—completely out of sync with the tone—"And you’re... pretty."

Yue audibly snorted beside him.

He didn’t blame her.

Mirielle, however, took the clumsy delivery as bashful charm.

Her eyes sparkled behind the white mask, and she laughed—a melodic, over-practiced sound that probably worked on palace guards and clueless suitors.

To her, Kael was just another pampered noble heir.

A soft-shelled boy who’d recently awakened to magic and wandered into power by accident.

She didn’t know he had walked through hell, set fire to half a duchy, and worn a demon’s smile.

And more importantly, she didn’t know he wasn’t even looking at her.

Kael’s eyes had been darting toward Yue, who was now shaking her head like an exhausted aunt watching her favorite nephew ruin his own engagement.

Mirielle interpreted the lack of eye contact as flustered innocence.

Oh, he’s shy, she thought, lips curling into something mischievous.

So adorable.

She leaned forward slightly, her inner thoughts swelling with ambition.

You’ll be mine, little Duke.

And once you are, I’ll rise even higher.

She chuckled to herself, already imagining her name whispered through the capital, draped in influence and silk.

Kael just blinked.

He wasn’t even that interested in meeting her.

Sure, she was attractive—if you liked the kind of beauty that came with dramatic hand gestures and borderline theatrical blinking.

But compared to her mother?

He stifled a cough.

Let’s just say Duchess Selvaris had presence.

She had danger.

And curves that could negotiate treaties.

Mirielle?

She looked like a sheltered noble girl who had binge-watched too many temple dramas and decided to roleplay as a tragic heroine.

Kael stared at his glass and quietly reminded himself:

This meeting is political.

You are a Duke now.

You will not rank noblewomen based on hotness.

Even Yue was watching him now with narrowed eyes.

"Kael," she whispered, "you’re thinking something stupid, aren’t you?"

He didn’t respond.

Because yes.

Yes, he absolutely was.