Chapter 855: Proud Tihana And Worried Orlin

Clover was one of Edenis Raphiel’s upper-caste islands, an island whose name alone carried a certain expectation of wealth, comfort, and privilege. In Edenis Raphiel, wealth was a flexible notion. There were districts where ordinary citizens lived modestly, even poorly, despite the country’s immense prosperity. But Clover belonged to another world : a place designed for those who had more than enough, and for the truly powerful families who preferred to keep their homes far above the noise of the lower islands.

The island had everything one could want. Luxury commerces lined its immaculate avenues; boutiques, private clinics, exclusive restaurants, gardens, galleries, and quiet cafés occupied nearly every elegant corner. The transportation system was faster, cleaner, and far more discreet than elsewhere in Edenis Raphiel. Its roads were broad and perfectly maintained, with little of the congestion found in the more crowded sectors.

Not everyone could afford Clover, of course. Yet Edenis Raphiel was a nation where wealth gathered naturally, and many could still afford to visit it, even if owning a residence there was another matter entirely.

In truth, Clover was not always chosen as a permanent home. It was more often a place of passage, a beautiful, expensive pause between destinations. Wealthy visitors rented mansions for a few days or several weeks, using the island as a comfortable base from which to explore the rest of Edenis Raphiel. The island had been arranged with foreign guests in mind; every service, every transport route, every sign and discreet attendant seemed designed to ensure that newcomers never had to struggle with the unfamiliar.

For influential families arriving from outside the nation, Clover was usually among the first choices for a temporary residence.

One such family had arrived the day before.

They were staying in one of the island’s private VIP residential areas, a secluded district reserved for guests who wished to enjoy Clover’s comforts without being exposed to its public bustle. The residence had been booked under the name of Belle Falkrona.

That name alone was enough to draw attention.

The Falkrona House held considerable weight across the world. Whether people admired them, feared them, envied them, or simply wished to remain on their good side, almost everyone knew the name. Their arrival on Clover had not gone unnoticed, even if the staff of the residence had been instructed to remain perfectly professional and say nothing.

The mansion selected for them was large even by Clover’s standards. It stood behind pale stone walls and tall iron gates, surrounded by a carefully tended garden where the flowers were still bright beneath the fading evening light. A long swimming pool reflected the first colors of sunset, its surface disturbed only by the soft breeze coming in from the sea.

Inside, the rooms were spacious, warm, and far too refined to feel entirely real. The living room alone could comfortably host twice the number of people currently staying in the mansion. Three long sofas faced a large television mounted against the wall, while armchairs had been arranged near the windows and beside a low glass table.

As evening settled over Clover, Belle sat quietly on one of the sofas, watching the news.

The channel was called [Edenis Chronicles], a network devoted entirely to events within Edenis Raphiel and the wider world beyond its islands. Tonight, however, there was only one subject anyone cared about.

Veyra.

The Saintess’s public revelation had been meant to dominate the world’s attention. It had been an event of ceremony, faith, politics, and spectacle, something carefully prepared to be remembered for years.

Instead, the news had become something else.

Edward Falkrona had appeared.

At first, the reports had focused on the Saintess, showing fragments of the ceremony, the gathered crowd, the decorated stage, and the stunned faces of important figures. But Edward’s presence kept returning to the screen. His name was repeated with increasing caution, as though even the reporters themselves were unsure how openly they were allowed to speak of him.

His face was not shown.

The footage had been deemed too graphic for public broadcast. The channel only displayed blurred images from the scene: the ruined stage, the chaos among the audience, the panic spreading through the crowd. Still, no amount of censorship could soften the words of the reporters.

Blood.

A severed head.

A body thrown violently against the walls of the stage.

Belle’s expression hardened. The moment the reporter began to describe the scene in greater detail, she reached for the remote and turned the television off.

The sudden silence filled the living room.

"Hey! Why did you turn it off, Belle?" Tihana complained.

She had been sitting beside Belle, half-curled into the corner of the sofa, but now she straightened with a look of disappointment.

"Because that is not news children should be listening to," Belle replied sternly.

Tihana frowned. "But they were talking about Dad."

"Yes," Belle said, turning her gaze toward her. "Your beloved father, who apparently did something you are very proud of."

"Of course I am!"

Tihana’s disappointment vanished immediately. A delighted giggle escaped her as she bounced back against the cushions.

"He is the coolest, as expected. Interrupting the Saintess’s reveal like that... only Dad could do something like that."

Belle looked at her for a moment, unsure whether to sigh or laugh. Tihana spoke with the admiration of a child who saw no contradiction in loving someone dangerous. To her, Edward had simply arrived and taken over the entire world’s attention. That was enough to make him extraordinary.

On Belle’s other side, Orlin had remained quiet.

Unlike Tihana, he had not laughed at the broadcast. His hands rested close together in his lap, fingers tightening slightly as he stared at the dark television screen. He seemed far more interested in what had not been said than in the spectacle itself.

"Will he be alright?" Orlin finally asked.

His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Belle turned toward him.

Orlin’s eyes lowered for a moment before he continued, worry becoming clearer across his face.

"I mean... won’t there be consequences? He did that in front of everyone. The Saintess, the people from Veyra, all those important people..." He swallowed. "What if they try to do something to Dad?"

For all the excitement surrounding Edward’s return, Orlin could only think of what might follow.

He looked quite concerned.

Belle’s expression softened at Orlin’s concern. Reaching over, she gently ruffled his hair, her fingers lingering there for a brief, reassuring moment.

"Do not worry so much," she told him. "Your father is a king. They cannot simply lay a hand on him whenever they wish."

Her tone was calm, though the faint crease between her brows remained.

"He has certainly been loud, provocative, and disrespectful," she continued, letting out a quiet sigh. "But I do not believe Edward would have done any of this without understanding what consequences could follow. At least... I truly hope he did."

"Of course he will be fine," Tihana declared immediately.

She puffed out her chest.

"No one would dare touch the King of Utopia. And Dad is the Guardian of a Holy Tree too. He is important, more important than all those people in Veyra."

Orlin did not look entirely convinced, but he said nothing more.

Tihana, however, had already moved on. Her bright eyes wandered across the room toward the girl reclining alone on the farthest sofa.

Samara lay comfortably beneath the warm glow of the lamps, seemingly removed from the conversation around her. A book rested open in her hands, though she had not turned a page for some time.

She was as beautiful as ever: pale skin with the smooth, timeless complexion inherited from her vampire blood; deep blue eyes; and jet-black hair falling in neat, shoulder-length strands around her face. A few locks had been tucked carefully behind the pointed tips of her ears.

At first glance, most people assumed she was an elf.

She was not.

Samara was the rare result of a successful union between elven and vampire bloodlines, bearing the gifts of both. Her features had the delicate elegance of an elf, while her complexion held the pale, unchanging beauty of a vampire. In the past few years, she had gone through another sudden growth spurt, leaving behind much of her childhood appearance. She looked a proper adult now though more late teens than in her twenties.

She wore a simple off-shoulder dress that reached her knees, darker fabric draped neatly around her slender frame. Her legs, covered in black silk stockings, stretched across the sofa, her feet dangling lazily over the armrest as she read.

Or pretended to read.

"What about you, Samara?" Tihana asked, turning fully toward her. "I am sure you are happy too, instead of complaining like Orlin."

"I am not complaining," Orlin muttered, offended.

Samara slowly lifted her gaze from the book.

"Perhaps you are simply being a little too excited," she said.

Tihana rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please."

Before Samara could return to her book, Tihana hurried across the room and dropped to her knees beside the sofa. She leaned closer, trying to peer at the pages in Samara’s hands, then glanced up at her with a knowing smirk.

"I saw you watching the broadcast," Tihana said. "You were watching it very closely."

Samara’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"And I saw you smile," Tihana continued, delighted by the small reaction she had provoked. "You love Dad a lot, do you not? I bet you have a whole collection of pictures of him somewhere."

A faint flush appeared over Samara’s pale cheeks.

Without replying, she pushed the open book directly toward Tihana’s face.

Tihana pulled back with a laugh, her giggling echoing through the quiet living room.

Then the doorbell rang.

The sound carried through the mansion, clear and sharp against the soft hush of the evening.

Tihana froze for only a second.

"Oh!"

She sprang to her feet and rushed toward the entrance before anyone could stop her. At the door, she quickly released the two mana locks, the faint glow of their spells fading as the mechanisms opened one after the other.

"Tihana, wait—" Belle began.

But Tihana had already pulled the door open.

Edward stood on the other side.

For a moment, he simply looked down at her. The light from the entrance hall fell across his figure. His expression shifted the moment he saw her.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to open the door without first asking who it is—"

"DAD!"

Edward did not get the chance to finish.

Tihana launched herself at him without hesitation.

He caught her easily, his arms closing around her as he lifted her from the ground. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and she pressed herself against him as though he had been gone for months rather than only a short time.

Edward’s stern expression faded.

A faint smile curled his lips as he held her securely against his chest, one hand moving gently through her hair.