Chapter 282: Arrogance as Dark as Shadow

Fred strode up the grand staircase with steady steps, the crimson carpet unfurling beneath his feet. The exquisitely carved handrails reflected the dazzling glow of the crystal chandeliers above. He walked straight toward the grand hall of the castle, his tone calm and laced with indifference.

"The trash outside has been dealt with, Father."

Inside the hall, silence reigned. The air still seemed to carry the metallic scent of blood, not yet fully settled. Yet, everyone present could hear Fred's unconcealed arrogance—an attitude that showed no trace of the reverence due to an emperor.

"Heh."

A crisp round of applause broke the silence, accompanied by a soft, playful laugh.

Under a slanted fringe of golden hair, a pair of red amber-like eyes narrowed slightly, shimmering with a hint of amusement. The young girl lounged casually against the back of a chair, her pale fingers gently clapping together. Her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, tied into a half ponytail with a silk ribbon, smooth and fluffy. Her white shirt stretched tightly over her chest, the fabric at the front strained to the brink of bursting, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her pale skin. A beauty mark rested just below her collarbone and beneath her right eye, adding a touch of seductive charm. Dressed in a black sweater, her long, slender legs were faintly outlined beneath the hem of her skirt. Her aura was as soft as a spring breeze—gentle yet impossible to ignore.

She smiled slightly, her tone light and innocent.

"As expected of my brother. Took care of it in no time."

Fred glanced sideways at her, a flicker of helplessness passing through his eyes. His voice was low and steady as he softly called her name—

"Celina..."

Hearing her brother address her directly, Celina realized her misstep. She stuck out her tongue playfully, puffed her cheeks, crossed her arms over her chest, and let out a casual hum.

However, another disdainful voice soon shattered the brief, relaxed moment—

"Trash. What's there to praise?"

The speaker was a tall and slender man standing among the other princes and princesses, yet his presence was particularly striking. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, his hair meticulously styled. His eyes gleamed with cold disdain, as if Fred's very existence was an affront to him. He brushed the sleeve of his suit and lifted his chin slightly, his voice dripping with mockery.

"And is that how you speak to Father?"

His tone sharpened, his gaze cutting like a knife as he stared at Fred, as if scolding an insolent fool who had overstepped his bounds.

"Kneel when you speak!"

As his words fell, the nobles dressed in opulent attire covered their mouths, whispering to one another with barely concealed ridicule. Their eyes were full of scorn and amusement, watching Fred as if he were a barbaric outsider, unfit to stand within these sacred halls.

Yet under the weight of these oppressive gazes, Fred remained calm. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his eyes cold and laced with faint mockery—completely unmoved.

"I am merely protecting the home of my late mother. If not for that, I wouldn't bother to lift a finger for this heartless, ungrateful empire."

His voice was steady, yet each word cut like a blade, striking at the very wound the empire sought to conceal. He lifted his head and cast a frosty glance at the man across from him, his gaze sharp as a dagger.

"If you wish to kneel, Franz, then do it yourself."

The hall instantly fell into dead silence.

Franz's face darkened, the veins at his temples twitching. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His rage threatened to boil over, but as a royal prince, he was forced to maintain his composure. Losing his temper in front of the other nobles would make him the laughingstock of the court.

He swallowed his fury, his fists trembling, his teeth grinding audibly as he glared at Fred, murderous intent simmering behind his cold eyes.

But the man sitting on the throne remained silent.

His figure was imposing, his long beard shifting slightly with each breath. His deep gaze, as calm and unyielding as ancient stone, held an unfathomable weight. He sat firmly upon the grand throne adorned with golden engravings, his fingers rhythmically tapping the armrest as if lost in thought.

His silence only deepened the oppressive atmosphere of the hall.

Yet Fred stood as still as a mountain, indifferent to the mocking and hostile stares. The chill of the palace's political games had never touched his heart.

The suffocating silence stretched on until the emperor finally spoke, his voice deep and commanding, echoing through the grand hall like rolling thunder—

"Do you wish to leave the Graham Empire so badly, Fred?"

His tone was calm, as though posing a casual question—but the sheer pressure beneath those words froze the air itself.

Fred raised his head, his expression hard as steel as he met the emperor's gaze head-on. His voice was cold, filled with unconcealed anger and contempt—

"Is that not obvious? You're forcing me to marry that fat-faced, droopy-eyed woman from the Haba Empire. Why don't you have your eldest son—Franz—marry her instead?"

Gasps filled the hall.

The nobles stared at Fred in shock, unable to believe that he had spoken so brazenly about an imperial princess.

Franz's expression twisted, his knuckles white from the force of his clenched fists. He forced himself to speak through gritted teeth—

"If Father commands it, even a marriage with a corpse would not deter me!"

But Fred merely smiled coldly, the contempt in his eyes deepening.

"Father, my dear brother has already volunteered. Why not fulfill his wish?"

Franz's face flushed crimson with rage. His carefully maintained composure was unraveling; his chest heaved with suppressed fury. If the emperor truly commanded him to marry the princess of Haba, his life would be over—reduced to a humiliating farce from which he could never recover.

He was trembling with rage, his teeth nearly cracking under the pressure, and finally, he roared—

"You—!!"

Before he could finish, the emperor's cold voice cut through the air—

"Enough."

His gaze was sharp and unyielding, his authority weighing down on the room like a mountain.

"What I command, you will obey. Because you are my son—Fred."

The weight of imperial power was absolute and inescapable.

Yet Fred merely scoffed, his eyes flashing with mockery. His laugh was bitter, hollow—

"Only when there's something to gain am I your son?"

His tone dripped with derision.

The emperor's expression remained unchanged. His voice was low and steady—

"Regardless, you will not leave the empire."

The hall fell into deathly silence.

But Fred's gaze darkened. In an instant, a storm of murderous intent erupted from him, black as ink.

A suffocating darkness spilled from beneath his feet, devouring the light around him. Shadows writhed at his heels like living entities, consuming the air itself. His eyes were piercing, devoid of warmth—like the gaze of death itself.

His voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of absolute authority—

"If I, Fred, wish to leave—"

His hand rose slowly, pointing toward the vaulted ceiling above. His gaze was sharp as an eagle's, his smile cold and ruthless—

"—No one can stop me."

His smirk widened, his eyes glinting with chilling madness.

"And if the Graham Empire loses Fred—"

His tone sharpened, his aura radiating overwhelming dominance—

"—It will fall within a day."

A collective gasp swept through the hall.

The emperor's eyes narrowed, dark and inscrutable. The nobles stared at Fred in terror, realizing that he was no longer a mere prince—but a force beyond their control.