Chapter : 1485

  He adjusted his robes and drifted towards the fireplace. He didn't walk directly up to them. That would be rude. He paused at a nearby table, pretending to admire a painting of a very stern-looking ancestor.

  He tuned his hearing. The unified power of his core enhanced his senses slightly. He focused on the conversation.

  "...budget is a disaster," one man was saying. "The Minister demands a twenty percent increase in output, but gives us no extra gold."

  "It's the raw materials," Silas grumbled. "The price of Aethel-Quartz is stable, but the biologicals... the reagents... the cost is skyrocketing."

  "And the secrecy," another man added. "Double shifts for the drivers. Night runs only. My men are exhausted. They are starting to talk."

  "Let them talk," Silas snapped. "If the Eye hears them, they won't have tongues to talk with."

  The group fell silent, drinking nervously.

  Lloyd seized the moment. He turned around, feigning surprise.

  "Lord Silas!" he beamed. "A pleasure to see you again."

  Silas blinked, then recognized him. "Ah. The Doctor. The one who cured Vance's wife. Good work, that."

  "I try to serve," Lloyd said humbly. "I couldn't help but overhear... night runs? It sounds dangerous. Are the roads so bad?"

  "It's not the roads," the third man said, a thin fellow with a nervous tic. "It's the cargo. Delicate. Needs to be kept... stable."

  "Ah," Lloyd nodded sagely. "I understand. I once had to transport a crate of Volatile Slime molds across the desert. A nightmare. One bump and... well, let's just say the camel was never the same."

  The men chuckled. The tension broke slightly.

  "You understand then," Silas said. "Logistics is a thankless job. Everyone wants the result. Nobody wants to know how the sausage is made."

  "Especially," the thin man added, lowering his voice, "when the sausage is made in a hole in the ground."

  "Shut up, Pervis," Silas hissed.

  Lloyd’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Hole in the ground.

  "A mine?" Lloyd asked innocently. "I thought the northern quarries were open-air."

  "It's not a mine," Pervis muttered, seemingly emboldened by the wine. "It's a... facility. Old bunkers. Repurposed."

  "Pervis!" Silas warned. "You are drunk."

  "I am stressed!" Pervis shot back. "Do you know what the Director asked for today? More restraints. Smaller sizes. Child sizes."

  The glass in Lloyd's hand cracked. A tiny, hairline fracture. He kept his face perfectly still.

  Child sizes.

  "That is... unusual," Lloyd said, his voice level. "For a research facility."

  "It's the Orchid House," Pervis blurted out. "They call it a school. But schools don't need reinforced cells."

  The name hung in the air. The Orchid House.

  Silas went white. He grabbed Pervis by the arm.

  "We are leaving," Silas hissed. "Now."

  He looked at Lloyd. His eyes were wide with fear.

  "You heard nothing, Doctor. You understand? Nothing."

  "I am deaf to the ramblings of wine," Lloyd promised, bowing low. "I only hear the symptoms of the body."

  Silas dragged Pervis away. The group dispersed, scattering like roaches when a light is turned on.

  Lloyd stood there. The party noise rushed back in—laughter, music, clinking glass. But he felt cold.

  He had it.

  Orchid House. Northern Quarry. Old bunkers. Child-sized restraints.

  The party at Lord Vance’s estate had shifted from a polite gathering to a buzzing hive of anticipation. The murmurs grew louder, the music softened, and the crowd parted like the sea before a storm. A hush fell over the room, heavy with reverence and fear.

  Lloyd Ferrum, still wearing the unassuming robes of Doctor Zayn, stood near a potted fern, sipping a glass of water that tasted faintly of dish soap. His mind, however, was miles away, dissecting the conversation from the night before.

  Northern Quarry. The name rattled in his head. It was a lead, yes, but it felt... easy. Too easy. Pervis had spilled the secret after a few glasses of wine? It reeked of a trap. If Lloyd marched into the Northern Quarry tonight based on the ramblings of a drunkard, he might find an empty hole filled with explosives instead of a prison.

  I need verification, Lloyd thought, his eyes scanning the room. I need to know if the supply lines actually go north before I strike. And there is only one person here with that level of clearance.

  "Her Royal Highness, Princess Seraphina!" the herald announced.

  Lloyd adjusted his glasses. There is my confirmation.

  He watched as the guest of honor entered.

  Chapter : 1486

  She was breathtaking. That was the first thought that hit him, bypassing all his cynical filters. She wore a gown of shimmering silver that looked like it was woven from moonlight. Her hair was a cascade of pale gold, and her eyes were the color of a summer sky. She moved with a grace that was almost ethereal, gliding rather than walking.

  But beneath the beauty, Lloyd saw something else. He saw the way her shoulders were hunched, ever so slightly, as if she were carrying an invisible mountain. He saw the way her hands trembled, just a fraction, as she clutched a lace handkerchief. And he saw the profound, suffocating melancholy that radiated from her like heat from a dying fire.

  She didn't look like a princess at a party. She looked like a prisoner at her own execution.

  "She looks... sad," Jasmin whispered beside him, her voice filled with genuine pity.

  "She looks terrified," Lloyd corrected softly. "Look at her eyes. She's scanning the room for exits, not friends."

  The Princess was led to a high-backed chair on a raised dais. She sat down, her movements stiff and mechanical. Nobles lined up to greet her, offering fawning compliments and expensive gifts. She nodded to each one, her smile brittle and fake, like a crack in a porcelain doll. She didn't speak. She barely made eye contact. It was as if she was surrounded by a glass wall that no one else could see.

  Lloyd narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong. This wasn't just shyness or royal aloofness. This was pathology.

  He casually adjusted his spectacles and activated his [All-Seeing Eye]. The world around him dissolved into a wireframe of energy and biology. The nobles became glowing outlines of health or minor ailments—a gouty toe here, a liver stressed by wine there.

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  Then he looked at Princess Seraphina.

  He almost dropped his glass.

  She wasn't sick. She was a chaotic storm of suppressed energy. Her internal mana flow, which should have been a steady river, was a raging, pressurized torrent. But it was blocked. Thick, dark bands of spiritual energy were wrapped around her core, choking it, squeezing it. It looked like a python crushing a star.

  The pressure was immense. Her own power was fighting against the bindings, creating a backlash that was tearing her apart from the inside. The migraines, the fainting spells, the terror—they weren't symptoms of a weak constitution. They were the symptoms of a nuclear reactor on the verge of a meltdown.

  "Interesting," Lloyd muttered. "Very interesting."

  "What do you see, Doctor?" Ken asked, his voice a low rumble.

  "I see a lock," Lloyd said. "And I think I might be the key."

  He deactivated the Eye and let out a long breath. This was it. This was the opening he needed. The Orchid House was a secret facility, likely run by the state. To get there, he needed access to the highest levels of the government. And who was higher than the Royal Family?

  But he couldn't just walk up to her. She was surrounded by a phalanx of Royal Guards, heavily armored and looking for an excuse to hurt someone.

  "I need to talk to her," Lloyd said. "Alone."

  "Good luck," Ken grunted. "Those guards won't let a fly land on her without a background check."

  "Then we need a distraction," Lloyd said. He looked around the room. His eyes landed on a large, ornate plant stand near the dais. It held a massive, spiky succulent that looked like it wanted to murder someone.

  "Jia," Lloyd said. "How are your acting skills?"

  Jasmin blinked. "My... what?"

  "I need a medical emergency," Lloyd said. "Right now. Right there." He pointed to a spot near the plant.

  "Me?" Jasmin squeaked. "Here? In front of the Princess?"

  "Yes," Lloyd said. "Just faint. Make it dramatic. Knock over the plant if you can. Scream a little."

  Jasmin looked terrified. "But... but..."

  "Think of Risa," Lloyd whispered. "Think of the Orchid House."

  Jasmin’s face hardened. She took a deep breath. She nodded.

  She walked towards the dais, weaving through the crowd. She looked pale, which helped. As she neared the plant stand, she let out a moan. She staggered. She clutched her chest.

  "Oh! My heart!" she cried out, her voice surprisingly loud.

  She collapsed. As she fell, she flailed her arms and managed to hook her hand around the base of the heavy plant stand.

  CRASH!

  The sound was deafening. The pot shattered. Dirt and spiky leaves flew everywhere. Jasmin lay on the floor, groaning theatrically.

  Chapter : 1487

  The room froze. The music stopped. The guards around the Princess tensed, their hands going to their swords. The crowd gasped and pulled back, creating a circle of empty space around the fallen girl.

  "Is there a doctor?" someone shouted.

  It was Lloyd’s cue.

  "Let me through!" Lloyd yelled, pushing his way forward. "I am a physician! Make way!"

  He burst into the circle, his robes flapping. He knelt beside Jasmin. She was doing a great job of looking half-dead, her eyes fluttering.

  "It's just a swoon," Lloyd whispered to her as he checked her pulse. "Good job on the pottery."

  He looked up at the crowd. "Give her air! Back away!"

  He stood up, looking grave. He turned towards the dais. Princess Seraphina was leaning forward in her chair, looking concerned. For the first time all night, the glass wall around her seemed to crack. She looked... engaged.

  Lloyd seized the moment. He walked straight towards the dais, ignoring the guards who stepped forward to block him.

  "Halt!" the captain of the guard barked. "Stay back, citizen!"

  Lloyd stopped. He didn't look at the guard. He looked directly at the Princess. He held her gaze. He let a look of professional, urgent concern wash over his face.

  "Your Highness," Lloyd said, his voice carrying clearly in the silent room. "My assistant will be fine. It is merely exhaustion. But I am far more concerned about you."

  The room gasped. To address the Princess directly, without permission, was a breach of protocol so severe it could get you whipped.

  The guard captain snarled. "You dare? Seize him!"

  Two guards grabbed Lloyd’s arms. Ken tensed, ready to spring, but Lloyd shot him a subtle hand signal: Wait.

  "Wait!" Princess Seraphina’s voice rang out. It was soft, melodious, but it held a core of steel.

  The guards froze. They looked back at her.

  "Let him speak," Seraphina said. She stood up, her silver dress shimmering. She looked at Lloyd with a mixture of curiosity and desperation. "What do you mean, Doctor?"

  Lloyd shook off the guards' hands. He straightened his robes. He adjusted his glasses.

  "I mean," Lloyd said, lowering his voice so only those near the dais could hear, "that you are in pain, Highness. Terrible pain. A pressure behind your eyes. A fire in your blood. You feel like you are drowning, even when you are standing on dry land."

  Seraphina’s eyes widened. Her hand went to her throat. She looked like he had just read her diary.

  "How..." she whispered. "How do you know that?"

  "I am Doctor Zayn," Lloyd said simply. "I see what others miss."

  He took a step closer. The guards tensed again, but Seraphina waved them down.

  "And," Lloyd added, "I believe I can help you breathe again."

  The hook was baited. The line was cast. Now, he just had to reel her in.

  ----

  The silence in the grand ballroom was absolute. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the tableau before the dais: the humble doctor in his dusty robes, standing defiant before the glittering, ethereal Princess. The broken plant lay forgotten on the floor. Even Jasmin, still playing dead, opened one eye a sliver to watch.

  Princess Seraphina stared at Lloyd. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. For years, she had been surrounded by the best physicians in the kingdom. They had poked her, prodded her, bled her, and forced vile potions down her throat. They had called it "nervous hysteria," "fragile constitution," or simply "the burden of royalty." None of them had ever described the feeling of drowning.

  But this stranger... this man with the kind eyes and the strange accent... he saw it. He named it.

  "Drowning," she whispered, the word tasting like ash and hope.

  "Yes," Lloyd said softly. "The air feels too thin. The lights are too bright. Your own heartbeat sounds like a war drum in your ears. And the headaches... they start here." He tapped his own temple, then traced a line down the back of his neck. "Like a lightning bolt traveling down your spine."

  Seraphina took an involuntary step forward. She ignored the frantic whispering of her ladies-in-waiting. She ignored the disapproving glare of the Lord Chamberlain.

  "You are not a court physician," she said.

  "No," Lloyd agreed. "I am a scholar. A traveler. I have studied the maladies of the spirit as well as the body."

  "The spirit?" The Captain of the Guard scoffed. "You are a mystic? A charlatan?"

  Lloyd turned to the Captain. He didn't look intimidated. He looked bored.

  Chapter : 1488

  "I am a man of science, Captain," Lloyd said. "But science acknowledges that the body is a vessel for energy. If that energy is... blocked... the vessel cracks."

  He turned back to Seraphina. "You are cracking, Highness. And if the pressure is not released soon... the vessel will break."

  It was a gamble. A massive, calculated risk. He was telling her she was dying. But he saw the fear in her eyes. It was the fear of someone who knew, deep down, that something was terribly wrong, even if everyone else told her she was fine.

  "Can you..." Seraphina’s voice trembled. "Can you stop it?"

  "I can treat it," Lloyd said carefully. "But not here. Not in a room full of noise and stares. The treatment requires quiet. Focus."

  "He is trying to isolate her!" the Lord Chamberlain hissed. "Highness, this is dangerous! He is a foreigner! An unknown!"

  "I am a doctor!" Lloyd snapped, his voice suddenly sharp with authority. "And I have a patient who is suffering. Do you want her to faint again? Do you want her to collapse in front of her subjects?"

  He pointed at the Princess. She was swaying slightly. Her face was pale. The stress of the confrontation was triggering her condition.

  "Look at her!" Lloyd demanded. "She needs care. Now."

  Seraphina felt the familiar darkness creeping into the edges of her vision. The black spots. The roar in her ears. She was going to fall. Again.

  "Enough!" she cried out.

  The room went still.

  "I will see him," Seraphina declared. She looked at the Chamberlain. "Arrange a private audience. Tomorrow morning. At the Palace."

  "But Highness—"

  "I said tomorrow!" Her voice cracked, but it held. "Or shall I tell my father that you denied me relief from my pain?"

  The Chamberlain paled. "As... as you wish, Highness."

  Seraphina looked back at Lloyd. Her eyes were pleading. "Tomorrow. Do not be late."

  "I am never late," Lloyd bowed. "Rest, Highness. Drink water. No wine. And try to breathe."

  She nodded. Then, with a swirl of silver skirts, she turned and fled the room, her guards scrambling to follow.

  The moment she was gone, the spell broke. The room erupted into chatter. Lloyd let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He felt sweat trickling down his back.

  He turned to Jasmin, who was magically recovering from her swoon with the help of a concerned waiter.

  "Are you alright, Jia?" Lloyd asked loudly.

  "I... I think so, Doctor," Jasmin said, sitting up. "I just... needed air."

  "Let us go," Lloyd said. "The air in here is too stale."

  He grabbed his medical bag. He signaled Ken. They moved towards the exit, ignoring the stares and whispers. They walked out of the mansion and into the cool night air.

  They didn't speak until they were safely inside their carriage and rolling down the cobblestones.

  "That," Ken said from the darkness of the corner, "was insane."

  "It was theater," Lloyd corrected, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "And it worked."

  "You terrified her," Jasmin said. "You told her she was breaking."

  "She is breaking," Lloyd said grimly. "That binding on her core... it's brutal. Whoever did that to her wants to keep her weak. Compliant. They are torturing her slowly."

  "Who would do that to a princess?" Jasmin asked.

  "Someone who wants to control the King," Lloyd surmised. "If the King loves his daughter... and she is sick... he is distracted. He is vulnerable."

  He looked out the window at the looming black silhouette of the Royal Palace. It looked like a giant beast crouching over the city.

  "We have an audience," Lloyd said. "We are going into the belly of the beast. Tomorrow, we find out who holds the leash."

  "And if it's a trap?" Ken asked.

  "It's definitely a trap," Lloyd grinned. It was a sharp, dangerous grin. "But we are the ones bringing the cheese."

  He looked at his hands. He could still feel the phantom sensation of the Princess's chaotic energy. It was a puzzle. A lock. And he loved picking locks.

  "Get some sleep," Lloyd ordered. "Tomorrow, Doctor Zayn goes to court. And I have a feeling the patient isn't the only one who needs a checkup."

  The carriage rattled on into the night, carrying three impostors towards a destiny that would shake the foundations of the enemy nation.