Chapter 13: Starting the plan

Chapter 13: Starting the plan[????! The 50% bonus EXP effect from the item – Ring of Life will begin at 00:00 tonight.] "System, display Selvia’s information again," Lathel silently commanded. Immediately, a simple information panel appeared before Lathel. ... Name: Selvia Aquelis Talent: Tear of the Tide ???? (Rank S) – Sealed Owned Item: Ring of Life (Rank B) ???? – Increases bonus exp/s by 50% Exp/s: 67.5???? (after bonus) Loyalty: Loyal ???? – 91% ... Lathel looked at Selvia’s information, feeling incredibly satisfied. In truth, the Ring of Life was an item he had received after using the ’Random Harem Gift Card.’ According to the System’s explanation, he could purchase these cards to exchange for gifts and present them to the women in his Harem. Not only could these gifts help his women strengthen their power, they could also increase bonus EXP. Of course, gifts from outside the System could have similar effects, but those items needed to be highly meaningful and symbolic in order for the System to recognize them. "Lathel... do you... do you want to..." Selvia suddenly stammered. Hearing that, Lathel smiled warmly, gently patting her head: "It’s alright, you haven’t fully recovered yet, and I don’t want to hurt you." Of course, he knew exactly what Selvia wanted. However, after two rounds, he knew she was already exhausted and that place was still sore. After all, Selvia was already his woman, her loyalty reaching 90%. How could she possibly escape from his grasp? Lathel gently caressed her face and smiled: "Selvia, soon I’ll need to go to Carol Magic Academy to train and prepare for my duel with Lucien. Would you like to go with me?" Selvia nodded immediately: "Yes, wherever you go, I’ll go too." "And... it’s my fault. Maybe... maybe I shouldn’t have been so nice to him, making him misunderstand that I... I..." Though Selvia was kind and gentle, she was by no means foolish. She knew very well why Lucien acted the way he did; it was all because her kindness was misplaced. If she hadn’t treated Lucien so well, making him misunderstand, then she could have already had a happy time with Lathel. Lathel, on the other hand, didn’t blame Selvia—in fact, he thought it was just a normal thing. Without those misunderstandings, how could Lucien’s storyline even begin? "Lathel... you... you shouldn’t have accepted his challenge." Selvia was so worried that her eyes were brimming with tears, her face full of anxiety and guilt. "Don’t worry." Lathel smiled. "Let me tell you a secret: I... am now an ’Awakened.’" "Huh?!" Selvia was startled: "Really? You... you’ve really become an Awakened?" "Uhm!" Lathel smiled, but immediately placed his finger on Selvia’s lips, making a gesture of silence: "Shhh! This is our secret, no one else can know." Selvia quickly nodded: "Uhm! Even if I die, I won’t tell a soul." She nodded as she cried, a satisfied smile blooming on her face. "Hahaha... Why are you crying? You should be happy, shouldn’t you?" Lathel teased gently. "No... it’s just... I... I’m just so happy for you." Selvia wiped her tears as she spoke. "Now no one will ever call you useless again." Suddenly, Lathel remembered something and laughed: "Selvia, aren’t you worried? Awakened ones live much longer than ordinary people—aren’t you afraid that one day, when you grow old, I’ll still be young and might marry many more wives?" Selvia shook her head, then reached out and held his face, her wet eyes looking straight into his, her voice sincere. "No... As long as I can be by your side, I’m already happy. I’ll cherish the time I have left with you—that’s enough." Lathel was genuinely surprised. Selvia’s tolerance and selflessness truly caught him off guard. At that moment, even as a villain with a cold heart, Lathel felt himself warmed by Selvia. "Silly girl, I’ll find a way for you to live with me forever." Lathel gently tapped her forehead with his finger. Selvia didn’t think much about his words; after all, there was a huge difference between ordinary people and Awakened. If becoming Awakened were so easy, this world would be full of them already. She simply felt warmth from Lathel’s comforting words. "Uhm! I believe you," Selvia whispered, then hugged Lathel tightly. ... That afternoon, in a refugee area on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Terith. This place had been turned into a makeshift village for people fleeing from war-torn regions, seeking refuge here. They were not allowed to enter the kingdom proper, but were permitted to live on the outskirts—a gesture of Catherine’s humanity. If this were any other kingdom, they might have already been enslaved or slaughtered entirely. At that moment, a crowd was gathering in a familiar clearing. Even though they were all refugees, and many were so hungry they could barely stand, they still lined up in an orderly manner. "Have you heard any news from inside the kingdom?" Suddenly, no one knew who started it, but a rumor began to circulate among the refugees. "What news? Isn’t it just the Prince’s wedding?" "That’s right, I also heard about the Prince’s marriage. Ah! The Prince is so kindhearted, we should all wish him happiness." "You’re all fools. There’s another piece of news, just not widely spread yet. It’s that... there’s some idiot, not afraid of death, who challenged the Prince for his wife." "What?! Who would dare such a thing? Challenge Prince Lathel himself?" "That’s right, apparently his name is Lucien, from the Vortan family, son of Edric." "What? You mean the illegitimate son of Count Edric? He’s just the son of a courtesan—how could he dare confront the Prince?" "It’s true. In the city, everyone’s talking about it. In fact, the Vortan family is now being isolated by all the other noble houses—no one dares cooperate or help them anymore." "Damn it! The dog of a courtesan, and yet so arrogant as to challenge the Prince?" "Quiet, the Prince is coming." The crowd turned to look at the luxurious carriage slowly approaching. The carriage stopped, the door opened, and the Prince stepped out, dressed in white, a crimson cloak draped over his shoulders, and a simple crown on his head. He reached out and took hold of a soft, snow-white hand, so delicate it seemed as if it would melt. Yes, it was Selvia’s hand. Selvia, with her signature blue hair and already beautiful face, looked even more radiant now that she was Lathel’s wife. There was now a gentle, virtuous aura about her, the bearing of a mature woman. "Long live the Prince. Long live the Princess." Everyone knelt on the ground in unison, respectfully greeting them. Lathel glanced at the refugees, a glint of cold ruthlessness flickering in his eyes. But that look vanished in an instant, so quickly that no one could notice. Lathel raised his hand and said, "Stand up, everyone. Today is just like any other day, but I will give each of you two extra steamed buns and five kilograms of flour." "Long live the Prince! Long live the Princess!" "Long live the Prince! Long live the Princess!" The people were so overjoyed they nearly wept, immediately shouting their loyalty and happiness. In these days of hardship, even a single kilogram of flour was enough for a family of four to stave off hunger for many days. Now, the Prince not only provided hot soup but also gave each person five kilograms of flour. That meant, for a while, they wouldn’t have to worry about starvation. However, Lathel once again raised his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet. "Now, I must also announce something... I... apologize to you all." The crowd was stunned, their faces full of confusion as they looked at Lathel. The Prince is apologizing to them? Was this a dream? The prince of a kingdom apologizing to refugees—people whom others regarded as nothing more than slaves? While they were still dazed by surprise, an old man dressed in rags, leaning on a stick for support, hurriedly spoke up: "Noble Prince, we are not worthy to receive such a precious apology from you. You are a dragon soaring in the sky. We are nothing but filthy frogs wallowing in a muddy swamp." "No!" Lathel shook his head, sighing, his face showing deep sadness and disappointment. No one around dared say a word, not even the most mischievous children—everyone knelt silently on the ground, waiting for what Lathel would say next. Lathel’s gaze swept over the refugees, and in his heart he thought: ’It’s time to start the plan.’ Having made up his mind, he looked at the old man before him with warm, benevolent eyes and said gently, "From today onwards, I... can no longer continue distributing food to help you through these times of hunger."