When Nahwu returned to the elven kingdom, she was taken aback by the bustling atmosphere. Apparently, there was a Great Assembly happening in the palace, and she had no idea about it.

"A Great Assembly? Does that mean all the races in the world are having a meeting right now?" she questioned her servant.

The elf maid nodded in response. "Yes, the topic is the unfair accusation against the Holiness’ human husband, Caliburn Pendragon."

Nahwu's expression darkened. "Who did you say?"

Making her way down the corridor to find her sister, Nahwu was shocked to see all the gifts she had brought back from Inkia thrown out of the room.

"What's happening here?" she demanded to know.

The elven servants froze, bowing nervously as her sister, Princess Shorof, emerged coughing.

"Sister..." Nahwu's concern evident in her voice.

Shorof shook her head. "The Holiness ordered these items to be removed from my possession, fearing they could contain suspicious devices linked to the accusations against her husband."

Nahwu was bewildered. "But why? I got these gifts for you, how could they be...?"

"Naha, Inkia has accused the Holiness' husband of a serious crime. She suspects these items could be hiding something," Shorof explained.

Nahwu was at a loss for words, feeling hurt and offended that her thoughtful gifts were now being labeled as potential spy tools.

“This… this is absurd!” Nahwu exclaimed angrily.

She turned away and left, seemingly intent on barging into the Great Assembly. Shorof called her name, trying her best to stop her, but she couldn’t with her weak body. Nahwu pushed through.

However, as she listened to the meeting and learned that Caliburn Pendragon wasn’t in the wrong, she was admittedly shocked. But her shock was short-lived.

Despite the fact that the two consumed creatures were criminals, and despite him having to eat them due to his illness while still being a literal child, he was still a monster in her eyes.

“Mother, don’t be tricked! This man—! This tyrant, he killed his father to seize the throne and also killed his rebelling brother!”

Nahwu's arrival was a spectacle in itself, as she had stealthily eavesdropped on the meeting from behind the concealed doors, absorbing every word with a mixture of indignation and disapproval.

With an air of palpable anger and accusation, she cast her piercing gaze upon the assembly, her eyes ablaze with a fervor that matched the intensity of her entrance.

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The good-natured atmosphere that had enveloped the room upon Nahwu's arrival seemed to wither under her disapproving scrutiny, as if her mere presence had the power to sour the mood.

Her expression, full of disdain and hostility, painted a vivid picture of her displeasure at the congeniality that had been flourishing before her arrival.

With a wicked gleam in her eyes, Nahwu sneered, “Assessing a person's character is a complex task. Yet, when evidence contradicts the narrative, even the most oblivious can discern! His past is steeped in villainy; disproving one accusation alone cannot absolve him of his sins!”

After her passionate tirade, Nahwu suddenly realized that the room was filled with apathetic faces, devoid of interest or sympathy.

Neither the elven representatives, including her mother and the five revered elders, nor the other assembly members, all exuding an air of seasoned wisdom, displayed any reaction to her outburst.

Perplexed by the lack of response, Nahwu eventually noticed another peculiar detail: from her vantage point at the entrance of the assembly hall, she couldn't see the accused man's face. He stood beside the Holiness’ seat, embracing her shoulders and head with his face looking down.

As Nahwu barged in through the imposing double doors, the same entrance Burn had used, she could only discern the man's towering silhouette and his impeccably trimmed white hair, stark against the shadows obscuring his face. It almost felt unreal.

His face was completely dark—

The harsh lighting from the glass ceiling in the hall was certainly strong, but not strong enough to shroud his features entirely from view.

And it was then, within his embrace, that she beheld the face of the Holiness: a chilling sight, with her radiant blue eyes set in a visage cloaked in the same darkness—an utterly terrifying sight.

Morgan rose, and every single person inside the hall immediately felt sick to their stomachs.

The trees trembled.

“O God, forgive me. This mortal hath been complacent,” Morgan whispered, but everyone heard her in their middle ears. Her whispers echoed like silk and velvet, but it was the kind of gentleness that would choke them to death.

Her words slithered into their very cores. Her whispers dripped with a unique smooth cruelty.

“I will correct this stray lamb back to her humble path, the path thou blessed for every creature with souls thou whispered into.”

She advanced. The wooden table in front of her disintegrated as she walked slowly and deliberately forward, clearing her path, as if no atoms or particles in this world dared to block her steps. As if the very fabric of reality itself dared not impede her progress.

Now, Burn had known Morgan quite well. She had three kinds of emotional outbursts. The first was her crazy problem-solving methods and insane perspectives. The second was wrath. This was the one on display right at this moment.

And third—

“Morgan, I did kill my father. Can you listen to me?”

The third kind was the scariest.

Morgan stopped, her face turning to Burn, eyes moist and full of grievance. It was the look that could infect him with pain, even more devastating than the ripping of his own soul to curse the time.

“You asked me once to explain myself. You asked me to defend my perspective. I’ll do it now.”

After spending so much time being the victim of Morgan’s memory-extracting magic, he was able to detect the flow of mana she used to invade his mind.

But this time, she didn’t actually use the spell on him.

She got mad even before knowing the truth from him. She got mad for him, blindly trusting that he didn’t commit the sin. She didn’t read his mind… yet she trusted him.

"I killed my father to stop his suffering," Burn confessed. "He might have looked like a mighty knight on the surface... but something was corrupting his soul."

Burn’s face darkened. “The symptoms were the same as Princess Shorof's, the current first elf princess's, illness.”