Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part Two]

CHAPTER 214: Conform or Die

Hadrian's fists clenched at his sides, his mind racing. "Conformed?"

"Yes," the hooded man drawled, "our superiors aren't pleased with the legal webs you've spun—sticky, suffocating things that have made life rather... inconvenient for us and our associates." He sighed, almost bored. "You've spent so much time preaching justice, Justiciar, that you forgot something very important."

Hadrian's mouth was dry, but he forced out the words. "And what is that?"

The man leaned in, his voice a whisper against his ear.

"Justice only exists as long as we allow it to."

Hadrian's breath stilled.

"You have two choices," the hooded figure continued, straightening. "Fall in line... or suffer an unfortunate fate."

The words lingered in the air like a funeral toll.

Hadrian's mind reeled. There was no escape. No guards. No law that would protect him here, only a fate similar to what befell Lord Alaric and his family.

The shadows waited.

And so did the Mhaledictus.

***

Stynx strode into a familiar chamber, his usual cold demeanor replaced with an energy that was rather uncharacteristic for him. His rusty orange eyes gleamed with an unfamiliar excitement as he approached the slouched figure by the window.

"Mother," he called, his voice lighter than usual. "Lord Vaerythos said I may have a chance at ascending to power—at becoming the crowned prince." His lips curled into a smirk, his usual composure cracking under the weight of his own anticipation. "All I have to do is prove myself. And when I succeed, you'll finally have what you deserve. You'll be queen, just as you were meant to be." His eyes searched her face, hungry for a reaction—for approval, for praise, for anything.

But there was only silence.

His smirk faltered. Slowly, he stepped closer. She was smiling. At first, relief flickered through him. But then he looked into her eyes—glazed, unfocused, staring through the window as if caught in a dream. She hadn't even noticed he was there.

The excitement drained from his face.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the slight twitch of her fingers, the empty smile she wore as she drifted somewhere beyond his reach.

The vials on the table, the bitter scent clinging to the air—it was obvious where she had gone. A realm where he couldn't hope to follow.

Stynx's hands clenched at his sides. He had come here with something to give her, something grand, something that should have meant everything. But she wasn't even present enough to hear it.

His throat tightened at the thought, but he said nothing. Just turned on his heel and walked out, the excitement he had carried in now nothing more than a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

***

Lumielle paced within the confines of her bedchambers, fingers clasped tightly before her. Her mind raced, desperate for a reliable way to gather the court officials without causing further unrest. Yet, no solution seemed reassuring. While she was the princess of the realm, her voice carried only so much weight, particularly because she was a woman, and also because her father's will had grown distant.

Time was slipping through her grasp.

Corruption festered within the court like a slow-acting poison, and every bit of favor she had cultivated with the ministers was bound to expire sooner or later.

Today, she knew they were convening. Yet, even if she forced her way in, they would scoff at her presence, rebuke her, and shut her out.

With Haxks absent, the risks of acting alone were even greater. And with war looming on the horizon, the last thing she needed was to paint herself as an easy target.

"...Haxks," she murmured worrisomely, her delicate eyebrows crinkling. He said we would investigate the brothels today, but it's already so late in the afternoon.

Suddenly, her breath hitched, a sharp jolt shooting through her chest as an unwelcome thought took hold. H-He's not doing anything inappropriate with that elf girl, is he?

In all honesty, it shouldn't have mattered what Haxks Starfrost did with his private life. He was merely a chess piece in the grand scheme of her plans for peace.

And yet—

Her fingers twitched at her sides, betraying the tightness creeping into her chest. Unbidden, images from the Twinkle Orphanage surfaced—Tiphanna, laughing, casually punching Haxks's arm. The two of them standing close, sharing a moment that felt... suspiciously special. And then, her imagination took off at a terrifying speed.

The scene unfolded with unnecessary, cinematic grandeur: Haxks—no, a prince plucked straight from a fairytale—bathed in a luminous glow, his features ludicrously exaggerated. His lashes impossibly thick, eyes deep pools of molten gold. His hair, somehow both permed and perfectly tousled, gleamed like the mane of a celestial lion. His jawline was sculpted by the gods themselves, and when he smiled, a dazzling sparkle flashed from his teeth.

"Tiphanna," he murmured, his voice dripping with unbearable seduction.

"Daisuke," the elf breathed, reaching for him.

Their hands met—tenderly, intimately. They leaned in, lips mere inches apart, the tension electrifying—

"NO!"

With a furious snarl, Lumielle physically reached out and ripped the thought bubble apart, her fingers shredding the imaginary vision as if it were parchment. Her face burned red, steam practically billowing from her ears.

She huffed. Then puffed. Then huffed again, her cheeks puffed like an enraged Bullgator about to charge.

The room fell silent.

Then she blinked, staring at her own hands as realization dawned.

"...What am I doing?" she whispered, horror-struck at her own theatrics. Why is my heart beating so fast? Why do I feel this way?

With a dignified sniff, she straightened her posture, smoothed out her dress, and attempted to regain her composure.

"...This is fine. Everything is fine."

She nodded once, as if that would make it true.

And yet, in the back of her mind, the image of Sparkling-Haxks-Starfrost lingered, taunting her.