Emperor's harem: Transmigrated with SSS mana talent
Chapter 77: [I have a bad feeling]

Chapter 77: [I have a bad feeling]

Like truth. Even if, in the end, it turns out to be a lie... it will be your lie. And that, at least, will be real."

The rooftop fell silent again.

Kael sat in silence, the general’s words lingering in his mind like the taste of old wine — bitter, strong, and not yet fully understood.

Hide yourself... be ruthless... keep moving...

He didn’t quite grasp it all.

Not yet.

His own goal had always been simple, almost childish in its clarity:

Tobecome invincible under heaven.

That was it. Power beyond question, status above all, freedom no one could touch.

But now... a part of him stirred, a quiet voice whispering that perhaps there was more to it.

That the general’s words weren’t meant just as advice — but as warning.

He looked down at his hands, then to the scroll in his coat.

Even this, he thought, came with risk.

Still, he nodded to himself slowly.

Even if I don’t understand it all now... I will keep moving. No matter what. If walls rise, I’ll climb them. If storms come, I’ll face them. But I will not stop. I can’t.

That was the vow he made — quiet, private, and carved into the marrow of his being.

As the sky began to soften with the first hues of dawn, a golden line split the horizon.

The rooftops of duchy bathed in pale orange.

The night had ended. The city yawned awake.

Kael stood.

A new day had come. And with it, the next step of his journey.

###

The morning light streaming through the church’s stained-glass windows cast an almost holy glow on the breakfast table.

Too bad Kael felt like a sinner awaiting divine judgment.

He sat there, rigid, spoon halfway to his mouth, trying to maintain a poker face while every fiber of his being screamed,

Don’t look at Nyra. Don’t look at Nyra. Don’t—

He glanced.

Nyra immediately looked away, her face flushed, her hands gripping her teacup with the nervous intensity of someone defusing a magical bomb.

She hadn’t said a word since sitting down and had already added sugar to her tea five times.

The cup was now more syrup than drink.

Selene, sitting at the head of the table, said nothing.

Her expression was calm, even bored, as she flipped through a newspaper. But her eyes flicked up occasionally—first to Kael, then to Nyra, then back to the paper, like she was silently writing her own report on the situation.

The Divine General, meanwhile, was busy devouring his eggs.

Selene suddenly tapped the newspaper and sighed.

"Theories. So many theories."

Kael jumped a little in his seat. "Huh?"

She held up the paper, flipping it toward him. The headline read:

"Blast at Duke Velmora’s Mansion: Political Plot? Demon Cult? Divine Retribution?"

Kael winced.

"The king’s apparently lost sleep over this," Selene said dryly, folding the newspaper with a sharp snap.

"There are already wild theories flying through the court—some say the Duke’s son rebelled and unleashed a forbidden artifact that wiped out the entire estate. Others think it was a divine punishment. Or—my favorite—a portal to the nether realms accidentally opened during a ritual sacrifice."

Kael grimaced, rubbing his temples.

"Sounds like they’re getting more creative by the hour." He pushed his plate away and stood.

"I need to go to the capital. Speak with the king directly before the council drowns him in madness."

The Divine General simply nodded, unsurprised. Selene, however, set her cup down sharply. "I’ll go with you."

Kael shook his head. "No. I need you here. You and the general should begin liquidating the damaged estate’s assets—land, vaults, whatever’s left. Use it to start building a new house."

Selene frowned, clearly displeased. "But—"

"This is more important," Kael said firmly.

"Rebuilding the House starts with stabilizing our foundation. I trust only you to manage that without political games."

She bit her lip but gave a curt nod.

"Fine. But I expect a full report when you return."

Kael gave a wry smile.

"Of course"

As Selene turned back to her notes, Kael looked out the arched church window toward the direction of the capital.

Princess... finally, he thought, his jaw tightening.

It’s time to find out what you’re hiding. Haa...

There was a weight in his chest he couldn’t shake.

Not fear, exactly—but unease.

He exhaled slowly.

I have a bad feeling. But it doesn’t matter. I have to face her eventually.

Kael stood up slowly, the quiet rustle of his coat the only sound in the sunlit room.

He walked past Selene—still focused on her notes—then paused beside her chair. Without a word, he leaned down and placed a soft, lingering kiss on the top of her head.

Selene froze for just a second, then resumed writing, though a faint pink crept into her cheeks.

From the corner of his eye, Kael caught a glimpse of Nyra. She was watching him, her expression unreadable—eyes slightly wide, lips parted in surprise, maybe even... something else.

He didn’t say anything. Just offered the faintest smirk.

Then he turned, pushed open the old church door, and stepped into the waiting day—leaving the warm scent of breakfast and the weight of unspoken thoughts behind him.

###

Before heading to the castle, Kael had one more task to handle.

The carriage clattered to a stop in front of a long-abandoned building nestled in the forgotten folds of the capital.

The driver glanced at Kael once—hesitated—then flicked the reins and rolled away without a word.

Kael stepped off, the silence thick as he entered the maze of alleys.

Crumbling walls, boarded windows, and damp stone watched him like silent sentinels.

His steps echoed louder with each turn, until he finally stood at a familiar dead end.

He placed a hand on the wall. Cold. Unmoving.

Then, with a breath, he summoned the mark.

The Veiled Serpent unfurled on his wrist in ghostly green glow—hissing faintly with phantom breath.

The moment it appeared, the stone beneath his palm softened like mist.

Without warning, Kael slipped into the wall.

He emerged on the other side coughing, brushing cobwebs off his shoulders.

"Right," he muttered, wrinkling his nose. "Still the most unpleasant entrance in the city."

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