Chapter 130 Unpleasant Exchange
*Admiral Nugen*
"Your Empress, are you here?"
Admiral Nugen's voice cracked with desperation as it echoed down the marble corridor. The words hung in the still air, unanswered. His heart pounded against his ribs like a prisoner demanding release as he pressed his palm against the ornate door. The brass handle was cold beneath his calloused fingers—too cold, as though warning him of what he'd find on the other side.
The hinges released a mournful whine that pierced the suffocating silence. Immediately, the familiar scent of sandalwood hair oil enveloped him—her scent—and for one merciful heartbeat, relief flooded his veins. His shoulders slackened, and the tightness in his chest eased.
Then he took another step inside.
Empty. Just like the last three chambers he'd searched.
Nugen's jaw clenched so hard his teeth threatened to crack. The flicker of hope that had momentarily lightened his burden extinguished, replaced by a leaden weight in his stomach. He exhaled—a sound closer to a wounded animal than a man—as he lingered in the doorway, taking in the abandoned study.
Books splayed across the desk, quills standing in half-dried ink, papers scattered as though their owner had been violently torn away mid-thought. His eyes darted to the fireplace where dying embers pulsed like fading heartbeats in the grate. The warmth was retreating, surrendering to the chill that crept through the palace like an invading army.
Not just absent. Gone.
The scar across his face throbbed in time with his racing pulse, a burning line of urgency cutting from brow to jaw. Sweat beaded at his temples despite the cold. The walls of the palace suddenly seemed to press inward, the weight of stone and secrets threatening to crush him where he stood.
Where was she?
He was running out of rooms to check. The thought clawed at him, sharper with every second. If he found yet another empty chamber—
No. He would find her. He had to. Giving up was not an option.
Nugens swiveled on his boot with a creak, a slight puff of old leather and sour metal wafting up from his clothes as he did. He still reeked of the armory, despite leaving it behind long ago. But the stench seemed to cling to him, like a stain, a pungent reminder of what he'd discovered below. Working against him like a knell of a warning bell.
Move faster. The thought struck like a drumbeat with each hurried step. No time. He trusted the voice instinctively. Every moment lost made things worse.
Because they were already bad.
The state of the armory—the rusted blades, the missing weapons—was a death sentence waiting to be signed.
"We would barely survive an attack if it were to happen tomorrow," he muttered under his breath, not as a warning but as a grim fact. That had to be dealt with immediately, before anything else could be done. Before anyone else realized just how vulnerable they truly were.
Even if Ana knew about the cuts, she couldn't have known how deep they went. Surely, not. Nugen took another corner, hurrying down the clean and white expanse of the palace halls. The bright corridors stabbed at his eyes after the dimness of the lower levels, intensifying the vicious pounding in his head. But pain was nothing new to Nugen. Pain could be endured. Failure could not.
Wherever she was, Admiral Nugen would find her. He had to. Because whatever was happening here wasn't just carelessness. It was sabotage.
He clutched the damning ledger tighter to his chest like a shield. Proof. Black and white evidence of betrayal, tucked into neat, careful columns.
It wasn't the whole picture—but it was the first key. The start of something bigger. Something rotten buried deep, and if they didn't act now, it would tear everything apart.
And after I find her, I'll have to find that bookkeeper. Nugen brushed his shaggy hair back, hissing with a flash of irritation as his woolen sleeve yet again caught his scar. The puffed skin screamed back in anger and pain. Anger sank the further he walked, turning to try for the library. Hoping she would be there.
If not, he would just have to try–
As he rounded the final corner, the sound of his own footsteps echoed sharply against the polished stone. The corridor stretched out ahead, empty and too quiet.
"Admiral Nugen,"
The voice slithered into his consciousness, soft yet sharp as a hidden blade. Nugen's entire body went rigid, muscles coiling tight as a spring. No footsteps had announced the approach, no rustle of fabric or whisper of breath. One moment solitude, the next—presence.
A chill that had nothing to do with the palace's temperature crawled up Nugen's spine. It was like the vampire snuck up on him, slipping his senses entirely. That immediately made Nugen go on full alert.
Like a true soldier, his instincts awakened to the threat. Before he could think, his hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. Fingertips traced over the strap, ready to unsheath his steel at a moment's notice. Ready to fight. Draw blood.
But Nugen already knew this would not be a battle of swords. They never liked to fight outright. Years of being in Nochten had taught him that much.
The weapon of choice they preferred was much more insidious. Hidden behind closed doors and hushed whispers, unraveling and constantly hungry. Never put out in the light, never showing their hand until the very last second when victory was assured.
Nugen clenched the ledger tighter to his ribs, as if to ensure it was tucked safely before turning to face him. He kept his head high, but his voice dripped with frustration.
"Lord Mykhol." Nugen greeted with the barest of nods, almost painful to give the teen respect. His shoulders clenched up, his fingers grazing over the strap of his sheath again. Still ready to fight if things got physical.
The teen didn't miss the gesture. His vermilion eyes—inhuman, too calculated already despite his youthful appearance—flickered to Nugen's hand, then back to his face with sharp precision. If he felt threatened, he concealed it masterfully behind that damned controlled smile that never reached his eyes. Those bloodred irises settled on the ledger clutched against Nugen's side, lingering there with predatory interest.
Nugen instinctively pressed the ledger deeper against his ribs, shielding it with his forearm. The motion wasn't subtle—it wasn't meant to be. "I didn't hear you coming." The accusation hung between them, sharp as a drawn blade.
"I wasn't sneaking up on you, if that's what you are implying, Admiral." Mykhol's voice was silk wrapped around steel. He tilted his head a fraction, studying Nugen as a collector might examine an interesting specimen. "You just didn't hear me. You looked... distracted."
The pause before the final word was deliberate—a subtle jab delivered with surgical precision. His presence hinted that he might have been around Nugen even longer than he thought.
Nugen narrowed his eyes, knowing damn well his senses were not that dull. Years as a soldier had taught him to hear a bowstring tensing from fifty paces. Distracted or not, he would have heard the teen if Mykhol had wanted to be heard.
But he didn't have time for such little petty games for now. The young lord was too good at those, anyway. He'd seen him do it too many times with Ana.
However, while Ana may continue writing him off as family, Nugen wasn't a fool. He knew how Nochten worked having been here far too long. His tricks would not work on him, and judging by the teenager's stance, his shoulders stiff, and again his eyes drifting to the ledger. He knew it, too.
"I was looking for her, Empress." Nugen didn't see the need to dance around the subject. He was never good at being subtle anyway. That was Alexander's place. He could play all he wanted, but Nugen wanted to get straight to the point.
He didn't mince words. "I'm investigating the missing crates."
A flicker of something—surprise? Amusement?—crossed Mykhol's features before disappearing beneath his practiced mask. He pushed off the wall he was leaning against with a soft, controlled movement. "Crates went missing?" His voice lifted with theatrical concern, one eyebrow arching delicately. "How many?"
Nugen didn't flinch. His voice hardened to granite when he spoke. "Twenty to be exact."
"My, that's a big number." Mykhol covered his mouth as if in shock. But his eyes seemed oddly bright, almost as if laughing. "How concerning." Mykhol's voice was calm. Too calm. Enough to make the very hair on the back of the human's neck rise. Anger was coursing through him at the weak act. He could barely bite it down.
Nugen could feel Mykhol's eyes drag back to the ledger.
"I'm looking for the previous bookkeeper. Where is he? I want to ask him some questions."
Questions and then some, Nugen stared down at the teen.
Mykhol kept his gaze for a beat, his glance neutral. Drawing out the seconds as if processing the idea. A thought crossed his eyes, but no more. He smiled then with a regretful sigh.
"Oh, him?" Mykhol began before waving up a hand dismissively." I'm afraid that will be difficult."
Nugen felt his muscles tense at the answer. Something uneasy was starting to curl in his stomach. Another problem. Another warning. "Why's that?"
Mykhol lightly sighed, moving to sweep off some imaginary dust from his embroidered sleeve. The gesture was deliberately unhurried. "He stopped showing up."
"He stopped–" Nugen's eyes grew wide. "You mean he's missing?"
"Missing?" Mykhol's voice lilted with mock surprise. "Oh, that's a rather quick assertion, Admiral." His attention remained fixed on his sleeve, treating the imaginary speck with more concern than a man's disappearance. "But I will say he hasn't shown up for work in some time."
Nugen felt his mouth dry at the news. That didn't bode well. "For how long?"
"Long enough for Father to find someone to cover the spot." Mykhol's tone was light and casual, as if discussing the weather rather than a man's disappearance.
"You mean Mr. Brunce?" The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. The sudden change in authority without a proper announcement now made sense. A substitute position didn't require an official ceremony—that's how they'd slipped this past him, past protocol. Past Ana.
"Yes," Mykhol's gaze lifted, vermilion eyes catching the candlelight like spilled blood. Something akin to delight danced in those inhuman depths. "I assume you two must have met."
"We have." Regretfully. Nugen didn't bother masking the contempt in his voice, but his frustration with Brunce paled compared to this new, disturbing development.
The last bookkeeper could be missing? Then, where was he? Nugen didn't like the sound of that.
It just seemed like more questions kept coming. And each question left a sour taste on his tongue—a taste that intensified as Mykhol suddenly moved forward—a blur of preternatural speed nearly imperceptible to human eyes—almost too quick for Nugen to reach for his sword.
Almost. But the sword cleared its sheath before conscious thought, Nugen's body operating on decades of combat instinct. Steel flashed in the candlelight, the point steady between them. The blade was up and ready for his attack.
An attack that left the vampire frozen in place. For a heartbeat—just one—naked surprise flashed across Mykhol's sharp features. Color drained from his already pale cheeks at the sight of the blade mere inches from his throat.
But just as quickly, the mask slipped back into place with practiced ease, fear vanishing beneath that perpetual, controlled smile. With deliberate slowness, his hand rose to touch the blade as if curious.
"It's so nice to see you back to work, Admiral Nugen." Mykhol's claws lightly clicked against steel in a sharp tone. The hollow ring hung in the corridor, speaking volumes that his words did not. His vermilion eyes narrowed on the point, one finger dragging over the edge until a thin line of crimson appeared on alabaster skin.
Mykhol lifted the finger to admire the cut a moment, the crimson drops bubbling up from the thin line. He lifted the wound to his lips to dart his tongue out between his fangs. His eyes met Nugen's gaze as he tasted himself.
"Your extended time in the dungeons was quite hard on my dear Ana." His words lingered on the last part on purpose, all but staking a claim to her. As if he already had her. It immediately made Nugen flash red.
"You mean her Empress." He forced the sword back into its sheath with deliberate control, every muscle screaming to do otherwise. His heart hammered against his ribs as he glared down at the vampire, who stood only inches shorter than himself.
She's not yours. She will never be yours. The promise burned in his chest like molten iron. As long as he drew breath, he would keep her from Mykhol's grasp. He would fight him to the very end and protect her.
"It's Empress Anastasia, now. I think you should call her with respect, LORD MYKHOL." Nugen spat, dropping any pretenses to his rank, showing full disdain now as the boy finally got to him.
And gods damn it, he did.
Nugen knew he was walking a knife's edge. One misstep—one blow struck in anger—would see him back in the dungeons. Or worse. His scar throbbed with searing intensity, nearly blinding him with white-hot pain.
But that's what he'd want, wouldn't he? Nugen clenched his jaw tight.
He had to maintain control. Not for himself—for Ana. He was her shield, her one true protector until Alexander returned. He couldn't risk leaving her alone with the predators that circled her throne.
Couldn't risk leaving her alone with him.
Mykhol took his time responding, looking a bit disappointed that Nugen was holding back. He seemed to have wanted more. But, seeing Nugens' restraint, he didn't press. Instead, he dropped his hand to his side, his cut healed and all but forgotten.
"How diligent of you, Admiral Nugen." Mykhol smiled easily, his voice smooth and controlled once more. "You are quite loyal to my dear cousin, I see." A sharp spark went in his eye as if in thought. "She is lucky to have you in her council. You have been such a help to her."
"And I plan to keep being one, Lord Mykhol." Nugen met the predatory stare unflinchingly, voice hard as forged steel. "I plan to always be at her side. I'll put my life on it."
A subtle flinch disrupted Mykhol's perfect composure—a hairline crack in porcelain. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, control reasserting itself. His vermilion eyes glinted with something akin to genuine surprise, perhaps even a flicker of respect.
"Your life?" Mykhol's voice softened, taking on an almost reverent quality. "Such dedication. Indeed, Ana is so very lucky to have such unwavering devotion."
He circled Nugen with slow, deliberate steps, like a predator assessing its prey from every angle. "Truly, it's... touching. The soldier ready to fall on his sword for his Empress." His fingers traced an invisible pattern in the air, as if painting Nugen's loyalty before him. "One man, standing between her and all the dangers of Nochten."
Mykhol paused, his vermilion eyes suddenly glittering with malice. "I wonder... were you this dedicated to my dear late aunt as well, Admiral?"
The words struck Nugen like a physical blow. His scar blazed with sudden, white-hot pain as blood drained from his face. His fingers went numb against the ledger, old guilt rising like bile in his throat. Her face flashed before him—her question echoing in his head, the choice he had made. The wrong one. Making her have nowhere to turn but Alexander. The decision that would be his biggest failure. His darkest sin.
His whole body went rigid, muscles locking as the memories he'd buried beneath years of service clawed their way to the surface. The shame. The knowledge that he could have chosen differently. He could have run away with her. With both of them.
Instead of telling her to lose the baby.
A choice that would forever haunt him until his last breath.
Mykhol's lips curved into a satisfied smile, recognizing the arrow had found its mark. "A pity how that ended, wasn't it?"
Nugen's jaw clenched so hard he tasted copper, his pulse thundering in his ears. He would not give Mykhol the satisfaction of a response. Could not trust himself to speak without his voice betraying him.
But in that moment, as the old wound reopened, something hardened in Nugen's core. The guilt crystallized into renewed purpose, into iron determination. He had failed once. He would die before failing again. Ana would not share her mother's fate—not while he drew breath.
Then he tilted his head, considering Nugen with new interest before a soft laugh slithered through the empty hall.
"What a shame there is only one of you, though."
"You-" Nugen could feel his voice choke as he could practically feel the insulation rather than hear it. "It's not just me. Ana has more supporters. And she will continue to gain more. And his majesty is coming back-"
"I know." Mykhol was again smiling as if amused. "But until then, it's just you, your men, a few others…" Mykhol drifted off as if not needing to list longer because there weren't many. And the situation with the Bulgeons was only proving to make it more difficult.
"My, I hope His Majesty comes soon. For your sake." Mykhol turned on his heel, beginning to glide past. "Because you're going to have your hands full very soon."
"You—" Admiral Nugen's grip tightened on the ledger until his knuckles blanched white. The threat hummed in his ears like distant bees. "What are you planning?"
Mykhol only smiled, lifting a pale hand in a languid farewell gesture.
"I'm afraid I don't have more time to chat," he said, voice honeyed with false regret. "There's someone much more important that I'd rather talk to right now."
Ice formed in Nugen's veins. "And who's that?" His eyes narrowed, following the vampire's every movement, unwilling to lose sight of him for even a moment.
But Mykhol merely flashed that perfect, practiced smile. "Good luck on your search, Admiral," he called over his shoulder, still walking with unhurried grace. His lips curved into a full, fanged grin as he added, "Because you don't seem to have much else to go on." His gaze flicked pointedly to the ledger before a soft laugh escaped him.
"How unfortunate that crates sometimes... disappear. Numbers change. Bookkeepers vanish." Each word was delivered with a honeyed precision that turned his casual observations into unveiled confessions. "Strange coincidences, wouldn't you agree?"
"Lord Mykhol, how do you already know that's—" Admiral Nugen felt his breath catch, a tremor running through his body.
The vampire wasn't even trying to hide it. His eyes gleamed with barely contained satisfaction, a predator so confident in its position that it no longer bothered concealing its nature. The ledger in Nugen's hands—his sole piece of evidence—suddenly felt insubstantial, a pebble against an avalanche.
He's not just involved. He's orchestrating it. And he's flaunting it because he knows I can't prove anything.
Bile crawled up the back of Nugen's throat, burning like acid. One ledger against the word of the next in line to the throne. One loyal soldier against centuries of entrenched power. The realization crashed over him—the teen wasn't just playing with him; he was already several moves ahead in a game Nugen had only just discovered they were playing.
"I'm going to keep looking into this. Don't think I won't." Nugen clutched the ledger against his ribs like a shield, though it now felt hollow, inadequate protection against the forces arrayed against him. "And whatever I find, I won't hesitate to tell Her Empress." His heart thundered with impotent rage and growing dread. "No matter what or who that is. I will get to the bottom of whoever is responsible."
Mykhol's gaze lingered on the ledger before rising to meet Nugen's eyes. But instead of fear or even hesitation, his face brightened with something almost like delight—the expression of a man who has already accounted for every possible move his opponent might make.
"Oh, Admiral Nugen," he purred, turning away with a dismissive wave. "By all means, continue your investigation. I do hope you find something... substantial." The pause was deliberate, dripping with mockery. "But I just hope nothing else might happen... while you search for your evidence?"
The thinly veiled threat hung in the air between them, poisonous and potent.
"You'd never hurt her," Nugen said, but even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow, a desperate wish rather than a certainty.
Mykhol's smile widened, revealing the full length of his fangs. "Hurt my dear cousin? Never." He took a step backward, still facing Nugen. "I only want what's best for her. To protect her from those who might... fail her." The words landed hard. An echo.
A reminder of the one person Nugen had failed before.
"I'm looking forward to seeing your evidence, Admiral," he called, voice drifting back down the corridor like a promise. "Truly, I am."
As Mykhol's footsteps faded into silence, the final, unspoken implication settled over Nugen like a shroud: By the time you gather enough proof, it will already be too late.
As Mykhol's footsteps faded into silence, Nugen stood alone in the empty hallway, the ledger heavy in his hands. The palace suddenly felt vast and hollow around him—a beautiful shell concealing rot at its core. Ana's throne, her safety, perhaps even her very life, balanced on the edge of a blade—and the hand holding it was smiling.