Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord
Chapter 92: A Queen’s Mercy(2)

Chapter 92: A Queen’s Mercy(2)

"...Physical...ha...harm?"

Steve’s voice cracked as he mumbled the words. Disbelief flooded his wide eyes, pooling behind the trembling in his throat. It made no sense. None of this made any damn sense.

"There’s no way." he whispered to himself, as though repeating it might make it true.

"That’s bullshit—" he suddenly shouted, eyes flaring.

"There’s no way in hell. No way in hell! I didn’t even lay a finger on her!"

His voice echoed in the cold marble chamber of the Queen Witcher’s inner sanctum. The space was too quiet, too still for his outburst.

The velvet drapes shifted slightly from the wind slithering through the stained glass windows above, but no one spoke.

Only the Queen Witcher stood there, hands folded before her, her eyes unreadable—watching him with that same quiet smile that twisted his gut into a knot.

She didn’t say a word. Just smiled. That infuriating smile.

"I didn’t touch her." Steve said again, weaker this time, as though trying to convince her... or himself.

"There was no physical assault. None. She’s lying."

Still, the Queen Witcher said nothing. Her silence pressed against him harder than any accusation ever could.

"I Know."

Steve’s fists clenched.

"Then why the hell is the petition still going around?! Why are they still coming for my head?!"

Her gaze didn’t falter. The smile didn’t fade. Then, calmly—too calmly—she answered.

"Because she’s of noble blood."

Steve’s breath caught. A strange chill coiled around his spine.

"That’s... that’s bullshit." he muttered.

"I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything—"

But the Queen Witcher raised a hand.

He stopped.

Her expression remained serene, almost disappointed, like a mother looking at a child who’d disobeyed even after being warned.

"It doesn’t matter." she said quietly.

"I told you before. And you should have listened."

Steve’s shoulders slumped.

’Is this it?’ he thought bitterly.

’Is this the beginning of the sequence... the sequence that leads to my death?’

The thought sliced through his mind like a cold blade. Panic surged. His throat tightened. His skin crawled, and it felt like the air around him had thinned, making it harder to breathe.

The disbelief that once anchored him was slipping away, piece by piece, as reality came creeping in.

It was really happening.

The end... was coming.

Then—

"Well, no need to worry," came her voice again, soft and sudden.

"I handled it."

His heart stopped.

"What?" he said, blinking, snapping his eyes to her face.

"You—what did you say?"

"I said..." she repeated, the barest hint of amusement tugging her lips.

"I’m not going to let them take you away."

A stunned pause followed.

Steve’s face lit up with a flicker of hope.

"You... You can do that?"

"Of course I can." she said, straightening her back slightly.

"I am the Queen Witcher."

She took a step forward, and her voice dropped in tone.

"But only on one account." she added.

"Because she lied. The girl. She did have an injury—yes. A shallow cut on the outer edge of her right thigh. But our examination concluded it was self-inflicted."

Steve’s jaw went slack.

"That..." she continued.

"...and that alone, is the only reason you are standing here right now."

There was a pause, the kind that choked everything in the room.

Then the Queen Witcher’s tone shifted—deeper, more commanding.

"This might be new to you." she said.

"I don’t know how conversant you are with the workings of the realm. But this is how power flows here. There are three noble houses that keep this kingdom in balance. The first is House Witcher—our house. The ruling house. It governs the Arcane Bloom Academy, the Royal Palace, and the surrounding territories."

She began to pace slowly, her voice echoing off the polished stone.

"The second is House Stoneborn. A proud, militant lineage. Ruthless when necessary. They form the backbone of our military and are responsible for our defense in the War of the Magic Beasts."

A moment passed before she turned her gaze to him again.

"And finally, House Dreythorn. A mercantile dynasty. They control trade, resources, and most of the land’s economic pulse. Together, the three form the Triarch of our realm. And though I may be the Queen Witcher, the strongest sorceress alive... if the other two houses agree on a cause, even I cannot override them."

She stopped walking. Her eyes bore into his.

"If the girl’s injury hadn’t been self-inflicted... your odds of survival would have been absolute. Zero."

Silence returned to the room. Heavy. Final.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

"If I were you." she continued after a pause,

"I would consider this a second chance—one granted by the gods themselves. Take it. Stay the hell away from any noble blood you can."

Steve’s hands trembled at his sides. His heart thumped wildly against his chest. But before she could speak again, he lifted his chin, interrupting her.

"I know this is important." he said, voice still shaking.

"but... this isn’t what I need to hear right now."

The Queen Witcher blinked.

Her lips parted, surprised.

"This isn’t what you want to hear?" she echoed.

"What could possibly be more important than this?"

He looked down at the floor. His fists clenched.

’I can’t tell her.’ he thought.

’ I can’t tell her that I know I’m going to die. That someone hinted it. That there’s a larger game being played. If she investigates... if she uses her abilities to trace it... she’ll find Rapunzel. And if Rapunzel breaks under pressure...’

His jaw tightened.

’She’ll find out I’m the author.’

No. He couldn’t risk that.

Instead, he looked up again and spoke.

"I...I’ve awakened a magical ability..."

His voice quivered.

She didn’t speak.

"I know it’s shocking...but what I really want to say is...I want to grow stronger." he said.

"You told me before that I had potential. That if I kept going, I could become someone worthy... someone powerful. But as I am now? I’m not going anywhere. My progress—it’s not enough. I’ve reached a wall."

He took a shaky breath.

"I need... personal training. Guidance. Help. And the only person who can give me that... is you."

He looked up at her, his voice rising with a mix of desperation and resolve.

"So I’m asking you. I know I’ve messed up. I know I disregarded something serious. But please..."

He stepped forward, trembling, and lowered his head.

"Train me. Please. Help me become the strongest sorcerer alive."

His heart pounded. Everything depended on this moment.

’This is it.’ he thought.

’ She wants me strong. She doesn’t want me dead. If I ask her directly, she won’t say no. She can’t. Not if she truly wants me at my best.’

But then—

"No."

The word landed like a thunderclap.

Steve froze.

"...What?" he breathed.

"No." the Queen Witcher repeated, her voice steady.

"I will not train you."

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