Emma's breath came in quick, controlled draws, each one a desperate attempt to cage the storm raging inside her.

"You dare," she finally whispered, her voice low, almost breaking. "You dare speak their names."

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Why not? They're only names. Truth doesn't lose its sting because it's spoken aloud."

Her eyes snapped to mine—sharp, molten, and furious. "You think you can use that to bargain with me? To drag my family's filth into the open like some—some cheap card in a game?"

"Oh, Lady Voss," I said softly, leaning forward just enough for my words to brush the air between us. "You mistake me. I'm not bargaining. I'm… enlightening."

Her fists trembled. Not from fear, but from the effort of restraint. I could almost hear the grinding of her teeth.

"You want revenge," I continued, voice velvet and poison. "You dream of it every night, don't you? The weight of a blade in your hand. The look of betrayal on their faces. The satisfaction of finally ending the rot that stole your mother's life."

"Enough!" Emma's voice cracked like a whip. Velra chuckled low behind me, the sound a purr of dark amusement.

But Emma didn't even glance at her. Her eyes were locked on me, blazing like green fire. "Do not think you know me. Do not think you can crawl inside my mind and pick apart my heart like some—parasite."

I let the accusation hang there and smiled faintly. "But that's exactly what I am."

Her breath hitched. A dangerous silence followed.

Then, slowly, she straightened. The trembling stopped. Her chin lifted, the raw anger smoothing into something colder, sharper.

"You disgust me," she said, every word crisp and deliberate. "But I will say this, Faceless Imposter—"

She stepped closer, close enough for the faint scent of snow and steel to reach me.

"—if you truly know what happened that night… if you have proof, not words, proof… then you and I are not finished."

Ah. There it was. Beneath the fury, beneath the disgust, the flicker of something far more dangerous than hatred.

Need.

I smiled, slow and knowing. "Proof," I murmured, savoring the taste of the word. "Of course I have proof. I wouldn't come all this way without it."

Emma's eyes narrowed, but she didn't back down. "Then show it."

"Not yet." I leaned in until my breath brushed her ear, my tone a silky dagger. "All in good time, my lady. After all… revenge is sweeter when savored."

She drew a sharp breath and stepped back, her emerald gaze cutting through me like a blade.

"You will regret playing with me," she said, voice low but steady. "Parasite or not—you will regret it."

I chuckled, the sound soft and dangerous. "Perhaps. But until then, Lady Voss… we have a very interesting dance ahead of us."

[Relationship with Emma Voss has changed.]

[Status: Volatile Alliance]

I grinned, the taste of danger and opportunity sweet on my tongue.

"Oh, Lady Emma," I whispered to myself.

"This is going to be fun."

----

3rd POV:

Velra watched in quiet amusement as the proud duchess forced herself to reach for information from a creature she openly loathed.

A desperate woman, bending toward a demon she despised—there was something deliciously ironic in it.

On the other side of the table, the parasite wearing the skin of Julies Evans only smirked, his posture loose and almost lazy, as if every thread of the situation was already wrapped around his fingers.

Control.

Not just of the room, not just of the exchange, but of Emma Voss's simmering revenge itself.

"Very well," Julies said, his voice a velvet mockery. "Let's discuss the finer details when we meet in the west."

Emma's answering laugh was sharp but forced, a brittle sound dressed as grace. "Ha. I'm glad we have an understanding. Then I'll look forward to your visit."

Velra, watching from the corner, found herself experiencing a strange echo of awe.

She had lived long enough to see wars rise and crumble, to witness alliances formed and broken like glass—yet this?

A cooperation between demon and human, natural enemies since the dawn of bloodshed?

This was beyond rare.

It was unthinkable.

Even the records of the demon world—carefully preserved histories of carnage and cunning—held nothing like it.

'If he had led the war back then,' Velra thought, her tail curling with quiet fascination,

'perhaps the entire conflict might have been turned upside down before it ever truly began.'

Wars had always raged: humans against demons, humans against humans, demons among themselves.

Yet parasites were almost never a decisive factor.

Not because their disguises were poor—on the contrary, few creatures could match their ability to blend in.

The flaw lay in their nature.

They required a host to survive.

Most were driven purely by hunger, a mindless craving to devour their vessel from within until both parasite and host perished together.

Even the rare nobility-level parasites, those with enough intelligence to plan and scheme, suffered a fatal weakness.

If they failed to feed on a new "existence" at regular intervals, they eventually lost control and rampaged, burning their cover and their usefulness in the process.

To most commanders, using such creatures as spies or infiltrators was a waste of resources.

'But that was a mistake.'

Velra's crimson eyes narrowed as she studied the man before her—the Faceless Imposter.

The aura of shadow that clung to him had grown thicker, richer, since the last time she'd seen him.

Every movement of his long, languid frame carried a predator's ease.

Intelligence like his was terrifying.

He didn't merely wear human skin; he played with it, revealing flashes of his true demonic form when it served him, stirring human greed and fear like a musician teasing a harp.

Had such a creature moved during the height of the war—had he chosen a side, even for a moment—victory might have belonged to the demons long ago.

But expecting such ambition from him was foolish.

His drooping eyes, half-lidded and unhurried, told a different story.

They belonged to someone who had already grown bored of the game.

"What?" Julies drawled when he caught Velra's gaze. "Why would I ruin this world? Things are going exactly as they should."

Velra exhaled through her nose, the faintest trace of a smile tugging her lips.

"Yes. That's the kind of being you are."

Brilliant, but bound by the same selfish instincts as every parasite.

His own amusement first. His own survival above all.

She tamped down the flicker of regret curling in her chest.

A mind like his could have shifted history.

But a parasite was still a parasite.

"I only wonder," Velra said softly, "whether you can keep this balance. It may hold with Amelia present in the north, but with that woman involved…"

Julies's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting like a knife hidden beneath velvet.

"Don't worry. She's already in my grasp. She's my new piece"

The certainty in his tone sent a faint chill through even Velra's ancient bones.

Julies leaned back in his chair, the faint creak of wood the only sound breaking the tension between them. The dim lanternlight pooled across his face, catching the lazy curve of his mouth and the dangerous gleam in his half-lidded eyes.

Velra's tail swayed in slow arcs, a predator's rhythm. "Already in your grasp?" she repeated, her voice a silky murmur. "I've lived long enough to know that no human—especially one like Emma Voss—is ever truly in anyone's grasp. They slip. They bite. They betray."

Julies chuckled under his breath, a low, velvety sound that threaded through the air like smoke. "You think I don't know that? I feed on betrayal, Velra. It's how I survive. Humans don't frighten me—they entertain me."

"And yet," Velra countered, her crimson eyes narrowing, "your amusement depends on keeping them close. Parasites who play with their food often end up devoured themselves."

He tilted his head toward her, a shadow of a grin playing at the corner of his lips.

"Maybe. But tell me, Velra—who's really the predator here? The noblewoman who thinks she can use me to claw her way back to power? Or the parasite who whispers a family's darkest secrets and watches her tremble for more?"

Velra's gaze sharpened, ancient instinct bristling against his taunt.

"You play a dangerous game, parasite. Emma Voss isn't like the others you've toyed with. She's cunning. Ruthless. Her bloodline carries the kind of madness that built empires and burned them down again."

Julies's grin widened, unbothered. "Good. I like them a little mad. It makes the dance last longer."

"You call this a dance," Velra said, her voice a soft warning. "But I see the pattern forming. Emma Voss thinks she's making a deal. You're thinking five steps ahead. And Alice Draken—"

At the mention of Alice, Julies's eyes flickered—just for an instant, like a knife flashing in moonlight. It was gone almost before Velra could catch it, but she did.

"Ah," Velra purred, leaning forward. "There it is. The tell."

Julies didn't answer. His smirk remained, but the silence behind it felt heavier now, like the air before a storm.

"You say you don't care for victory, for kingdoms, for wars," Velra continued, her voice low, "but when she is involved… your mask slips."

He finally spoke, his tone smooth but carrying an edge she hadn't heard before. "Alice is… necessary."

Velra tilted her head, the faintest smile curling her lips. "Necessary. Not interesting? Not delicious?"

Julies met her gaze, unblinking. "Both. But necessity comes first. Without her, this game loses half its flavor."

Velra's tail gave a slow, deliberate flick. "And when necessity ends? What happens to her then?"

Julies's grin returned, sharp enough to cut. "That depends on how long she keeps dancing."

Velra held his gaze for a long moment, ancient intuition prickling at the back of her mind. She had seen parasites rise and fall, demons rule and crumble.

But this creature—this Faceless Imposter—was something else.

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