I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 737: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [19] Gathering Under The Tree

The scent of rose oil and fine powder hung heavy in the silent room as hours slipped away. Celeste remained perfectly still before a tall mirror, her figure surrounded by a whirlwind of activity.

Her snow-white hair, typically kept in a modest braid, had been brushed until it glowed like polished silk. Every strand seemed to catch the soft lamplight, falling down her back in shimmering, fluid waves. Delicate hands wove sections of her hair together, securing them with silver hairpins that sparkled like frozen teardrops.

Leaning in to apply the final touches of cosmetics, a maid broke the quiet with a voice full of wonder.

"You look truly breathtaking, Your Highness," she remarked, clearly captivated by Celeste’s appearance.

Celeste offered no reply, her gaze locked onto her own reflection.

Behind her, a pair of maids worked with precision on her gown, flicking away microscopic specks of dust and smoothing the layers of white satin that pooled like clouds upon the floor.

"Now, we’ll help with the gown, Your Highness," one of them whispered.

The door creaked open before they could proceed. A middle-aged woman entered—it was Lera, the personal maid who had looked after Celeste since she was a child.

"Everyone, let the Princess rest a little," she commanded.

One of the younger staff members wavered. "But... we’re almost finished, and the ceremony—"

"Do you want her to faint halfway through it because you refused to let her breathe?" Lera cut her off sharply, her eyes narrowing in a stern glare.

The maids went still, trading nervous glances. Their faces drained of color before they bowed abruptly and scrambled out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

Once the room was quiet again, Lera sighed softly and walked toward her ward.

"Princess... what kind of face are you making right now?" she asked in a gentle tone.

Celeste remained silent.

A faint, sad smile touched Lera’s lips. "You really do look like your mother," she whispered.

Celeste’s lips parted slightly. "Mother... married the man she loved."

Lera nodded in agreement. "She did. But unlike then, everyone supports this union, Your Highness—just like now—"

"I haven’t accepted it," Celeste suddenly interrupted, her voice shaking. She gripped her hands tightly in her lap until her knuckles turned white. "I–I didn’t accept it."

Lera knelt down beside her.

"Princess," she began softly, "this marriage was decided in haste. The council wanted to show stability after the Utopian War, after the tragedy at Moonfang with Behemoth... and the scandal around the Head of the Raven House."

She was already aware. Celeste understood the logic—the political schemes and the desperate need for a display of strength—but understanding did not equate to acceptance.

Lera went on. "From here on, you must stay strong. Prince Cyril may become your husband, but you are the Prophetess. You hold the final word in all matters between you and him. Endure for a few years, Your Highness. Once peace returns and your position solidifies, your voice will outweigh even your own family and the Council of Central Vedelia."

Celeste turned her head slightly to look Lera in the eye. The woman wasn't joking or offering empty platitudes; she was entirely serious.

"A few years..." Celeste repeated with bitterness.

To live as Cyril’s bride... She knew Lera spoke the truth; Cyril could not truly dominate her. Even so, the title of wife felt like an unbreakable iron chain.

Lera offered a small, comforting smile and stood up. "Come now. Let’s finish dressing you. The gown may be heavy, but I’ll help you bear it."

Celeste’s expression softened, her shoulders losing their tension as Lera lifted the heavy, ornate layers of the ceremonial dress.

***

"It has been quite a long time since we’ve held a ceremony like this," Alector remarked, scanning the massive venue.

They stood at the base of the Holy Tree of Eden, a sacred wonder with massive roots that acted as natural pillars, glowing with a faint golden light. The interior was decorated for the event—strands of glowing mana crystals hung from the living walls, casting blue and green light across the polished marble floor. Symmetrical rows of seats were arranged, each one set aside for the high nobility of Sancta Vedelia.

Alector clasped his hands behind his back, standing next to Harvey Indi Zestella, who watched the gathering guests with a distant look in his eyes.

"The last time such a union was celebrated..." Alector started.

"Was during my marriage to Sara," Harvey finished quietly.

Alector nodded, a touch of sadness visible on his face. "Yes... the union of the previous Prophetess. Over twenty years now."

His voice grew soft as he reminisced. "Sara was the perfect Prophetess. No one connected more deeply with the people. She had their hearts—their faith—more than anyone before her. She should have surpassed them all."

Harvey’s mouth tightened. "Perhaps. But it was her kindness that killed her in the end. I don’t want my daughter to repeat the same fate."

Alector gave a joyless chuckle. "Your daughter, from what I’ve seen, isn’t as lenient as Sara was. But she carries the same light in her heart."

"She does..." Harvey agreed, his voice wavering with a heavy sense of guilt.

Forcing his daughter into an unwanted marriage—even for the sake of Sancta Vedelia—was a burden for him. It was a choice no father should have to make. Yet, for the survival of the realm, he felt he had no other option.

After a moment, Alector spoke again in a lower tone. "Your daughter asked me something, not long ago. She wanted to know why that boy—Amael—wasn’t considered a suitable partner for her."

Harvey let out a sharp sigh. "She’s young. Still caught in childish infatuations."

"Perhaps," Alector said with a small smile. "But she’s not wrong about him. If only he hadn’t stolen the Seed and handed it to Utopia... things could have been different. The boy is talented—courageous even."

"Regardless of talent, that boy must never have any influence over the Prophetess."

They both turned as Claudia approached them.

"Claudia," Alector said, bowing his head slightly. "You’re early. I don’t see Duncan?"

"He’ll arrive later," she answered shortly. "The ceremony will last for hours, after all."

Her eyes scanned the room. "More importantly, Lord Alector—I trust you’ve ensured that boy won’t be anywhere near this place?"

Alector nodded. "Every guard in Central Vedelia has been instructed. Amael Olphean is forbidden from entering the capital—especially near the Tree."

"Good," Claudia said, her expression remaining neutral.

Harvey tilted his head. "Are you truly so afraid of him, Lady Claudia?"

"I am not afraid of the boy himself. I am afraid of what follows him. Ever since he came to Sancta Vedelia, chaos seems to trail in his shadow—incidents, attacks, calamities."

She paused, her voice dropping. "And in my prophecy, I saw him again... bringing destruction to this very place—here, at the heart of Central Vedelia."

Harvey’s expression grew dark. "What...?" he whispered, his eyes widening.

"Now, now, Claudia, admit that prophecy wasn’t so accurate," Alector said, looking over the gathered nobles. "Regardless of what he’s done, I can’t imagine that boy attacking Central Vedelia. What would be his purpose?"

Claudia crossed her arms. "Who knows. Maybe he comes for Celeste—he loves her, after all."

Harvey blinked. "He’d attack the heart of the realm for Celeste?" He tried to dismiss the idea with a laugh but failed; the suggestion sounded extreme even to him. Still, the thought was unsettling. "I have a hard time believing that..."

Claudia shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn’t matter. If he does come, he’ll die. That’s what I saw."

"You saw it in your prophecy?" Harvey asked, surprised despite himself.

Claudia nodded. "Yes. It would be better if he never set foot here, but at least, if he does, he will not leave alive."

"If Alea heard you say such things aloud, Claudia, you’d be courting trouble."

A ripple went through the crowd as they turned to see a girl standing in the light. She looked barely like a teenager at first glance, but her mature posture suggested she was much older.

"Beatrice," Claudia muttered.

"I am surprised to see you here, Queen Beatrice," Alector noted.

"Hm, I am as surprised as yourself, but I was bored in my castle alone with none of my sons and grandchildren," she said before glancing around. "I don’t see the others yet." Her eyes lingered briefly on Namys before moving on.

Harvey forced himself to smile. Relationships between the houses had frayed; he wondered which Heads would even bother to show up. Alea, with her cold distance and growing anger toward Central Vedelia after the Amael incident, might stay away. James Raven might come, though likely late as Ravenia was still in celebration. Tanya Teraquin’s ties with Central Vedelia had also cooled after her son’s involvement in the Utopian War. Many absences were possible.

However, he was confident that Reiner and Jefer would attend.

He sighed quietly. They needed unity today more than ever.

"As Heads of the Kingdoms of Sancta Vedelia, this is... disappointing." The words drew everyone's attention.

A middle-aged man with blond hair and glasses stood under the glow of the mana crystals. His plain white robe made him look like both a scholar and a strict official. Alector’s expression immediately became stern. "Lord Albert."

Harvey whispered the name, recognizing it.

"Albert is one of the Council of Central Vedelia," Alector explained.

Harvey’s eyes widened slightly as he offered a greeting.

Albert approached with a smirk. "Melfina’s son, you must be. I hope she has recovered after Edenis Raphiel’s—troublesome visit. What a futile trip that was." He shook his head in mock pity. "Edenis Raphiel does not take us seriously—only Lord Aslan showed himself as an authority there. That tells you everything."

"Will the others from the Council be coming as well?" Alector asked Albert.

Albert smiled faintly, adjusting his glasses. "No. I was sent alone to represent them. Despite the layers of protection here, some are still... uneasy about another incident involving one of the Great Houses of Sancta Vedelia." He spoke bluntly, making no effort to be polite.

Had Alea or Tanya been there, the remark would have been met with sharp insults. For now, silence filled the air.

Beatrice, however, couldn't stay quiet. She let out a short, amused laugh. "As always, so full of talk, you people from the Council."

Albert bowed his head slightly toward her. "Ah, Queen Beatrice. I remember we did warn you not to meddle in Edenis Raphiel years ago, did we not? If you had heeded our advice, perhaps you wouldn’t be in... your current state."

Beatrice scoffed, crossing her arms tightly. "If you call cowardice wisdom, then yes, perhaps."

Albert chuckled. "Let’s simply hope everything proceeds without trouble today. Otherwise... certain changes might be necessary."

Beatrice narrowed her beastial eyes. "And what kind of changes would those be, Councilor?"

Albert’s smile remained polite. "Until now, we’ve allowed the Heads of the Kingdoms to govern their lands freely. But when the same Heads can’t manage their own internal crises, and those problems start spreading toward Central Vedelia—even the Holy Tree itself—we can hardly sit idle, can we?"

Claudia stepped forward. "Incidents may have occurred, yes, but all were resolved swiftly. None of our enemies have ever reached the Holy Tree."

"Indeed," Albert replied, "but the toll has been considerable. Perhaps your methods have become... outdated?" His polite tone made the insult hit harder. "From here on, Central Vedelia will take a more active role in matters of governance and security throughout Sancta Vedelia. I trust you won’t feel overwhelmed by our presence."

A vein throbbed on Beatrice’s forehead. "If I still had my strength," she muttered, "I’d smack that smirk right off his face."

"Queen Beatrice..." Alector sighed.

Albert only laughed, brushing off the tension. "Now then," he continued, looking around the room, "I still haven’t seen our beloved Prophetess. I do hope she hasn’t run off with that troublesome, evil, and treacherous boy from Celesta. That would be quite the scandal and rather disappointing for the Zestella family."

"She hasn’t," Harvey replied with a frown.

"Ah, that’s good," Albert said. "And what of the groom?"

"Here."

The voice came from behind them. They turned to see Cyril Magnus Raven enter, his crimson hair tied back and his suit perfectly tailored. He walked with the effortless arrogance of a noble, hands in his pockets, his crimson eyes scanning the group.

Albert smiled with approval. "Cyril Magnus Raven—the future of your house. You now bear the responsibility of cleansing the sins of both your father and grandfather."

Harvey frowned. "Sins? What exactly did James do?"

Albert gave him a side-glance. "He allowed his father’s misdeeds to go unpunished. Naturally, he’ll be investigated after the ceremony."

"Wait, what?" Harvey started, but Alector raised a hand to signal him to stop.

Albert smiled faintly. "If he’s innocent, he has nothing to fear."

Cyril chuckled softly. "You speak a lot, Lord Albert. But don’t worry, I won’t make the same mistakes as my grandfather. In truth, I agree with the Council: Sancta Vedelia has grown weak." He spread his arms. "What better way to begin a new era than with my union to Celeste? Wouldn’t you agree?"

Albert looked at him for a moment before giving a measured nod. "A fine sentiment."

Cyril smirked, satisfied, and looked around. "Now... where’s Celeste?"

"She’ll be here soon," Harvey answered.

Without another word, Cyril turned and walked away.

Beatrice watched him leave, her brow furrowing. "Something’s wrong," she whispered.

Alector turned to her, concern on his face. "What do you mean, Beatrice?"

She didn’t answer immediately. Her ears twitched as if she were listening to something others couldn't hear. She sniffed the air, her eyes narrowing.

"...I don’t know yet," she said finally in a low voice. "But something’s off."

Beatrice pushed through the crowd and stepped out into the cool evening air. The air felt thin beneath the massive branches of the Holy Tree. Alector frowned and followed her out.

She stood with her head tilted up, watching the moon. It wasn't its usual pale silver; it was stained with a dark, bruised red that made the world look like an open wound.

"Don’t you think the moon looks... too red?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the sky.

Alector gave a small smile. "It’s the time of year, Beatrice. Atmospheric—"

She shook her head impatiently. "No. This feels wrong. Cancel the engagement. Delay it."

Alector blinked in surprise. "What are you saying? You’re not joking, are you? This is no time—"

"I’m not joking," Beatrice replied. She took a breath and looked toward the workers moving below the tree. Sweat and tension filled the air, not just from the labor, but from a sharp, animal-like anxiety that made her skin crawl.

"Where’s Jefer?" she asked suddenly. "Brian will be late with the students. But Jefer, I called him for today."

"Hm. I haven’t seen him," Alector replied.

Beatrice pressed her lips together. "Strange." She sniffed the air like a hound on a hunt, then frowned. Something else was approaching through the night.

Alector heard it next: the heavy thud of running feet and the sound of panic. He moved first, his staff creating a shimmer of mana. With a quick gesture, he placed a barrier near the tree’s root-path—a lattice of pale light to stop anyone trying to break through.

"Ugh!"

"Agh!"

Two groans of pain rang out as Rodolf and Victor slammed into the barrier and fell to the ground.

Beatrice rushed forward. "Rodolf?"

"Mom?!" Rodolf croaked, sounding more relieved than hurt.

Alector stiffened, looking between them with growing suspicion. "What are you both running here for?"

Victor was unsteady and out of breath. He looked at Alector and Beatrice in a panic. "I—It’s Cyril!" he gasped. "You have to stop him!"