Northern Falano, Flottes. In the afternoon, in the far southern outskirts of Flottes, the sun in the sky was gradually setting westward. The glow of the evening sun slowly bathed the century-old buildings in its golden hue. As daylight faded, the annual audience banquet in the Temple of the Goddess of Beauty was finally approaching its most grandiose moment. At this time, in the spacious Opera Hall, dignitaries from all over Flottes were gathered on the various tiers of the viewing platforms. The original chairs had been removed and replaced with banquet tables laden with exquisite food and fine wine. Gaily dressed ladies and gentlemen gathered around the tables, enjoying desserts and vintage drinks while gazing toward the center of the opera hall—specifically, the prominently decorated main guest platform on the eastern side of the third tier. On that platform stood Consul Samson, clad in simple attire and bearing a solemn expression. Holding a speech manuscript, he addressed the entire hall in a calm, low tone. “...Therefore, the reason all of you are gathered here today is for the unity and collaboration of Falano in the new year, and to preserve the fruits of the revolution. It is not, as certain people have insinuated, about reviving the decayed monarchic legacy or summoning the spirits of the Bourbon kings. “I do not believe in entirely rejecting all old traditions, but I also will not let tradition become a breeding ground for reactionary thought. In a new era, traditions should be given new meaning. Just like this audience banquet—some say I proposed to cancel or refused to participate in this annual gathering. That’s a mistake. I believe it plays a positive role in uniting Falano’s elites and should be preserved. It's just the name that needs to change. The term ‘audience’ reeks too much of dynastic decay. We could just call it a New Year’s Banquet, or a Unity Banquet…” Samson continued speaking from the stage while the assembled dignitaries of Falano listened intently in silence. When Samson finally concluded his speech, a wave of applause immediately erupted throughout the opera hall. “Very well, let us now enjoy this joyous banquet…” With that final remark following the applause, Samson set down his manuscript and returned to the head seat at a nearby table. With his seating, the grand banquet of the opera hall formally began. The long-awaiting nobility began indulging in wine and food. A prepared orchestra played melodious tunes, and after a brief announcement from the host, several dancers took to the stage. The entire hall was soon immersed in an atmosphere of grace and tranquility. Meanwhile, in one corner near a platform railing, Adèle held a glass of fine wine in her hand and wore a grave expression as she observed the proceedings. “The goal of those behind the scenes… is to assassinate Samson and pin the blame on us—the remnants of the Bourbon line. Where are their assassins now? What method are they planning to use?” Adèle thought solemnly, while far away, Dorothy responded through the information channel. “That remains unclear for now… In the past hour, a large number of outsiders have entered the Temple of the Goddess of Beauty. Counting servants, guests, guards, and others, there are over a thousand individuals. It’s extremely difficult to identify potential assassins from so many in such a short time…” “I see…” Adèle swept her gaze across the opera hall, observing the many guests present, then continued mentally. “Within my range of perception, aside from the Bourbon remnants who came with me, no one else is showing any killing intent. Perhaps the assassins haven’t entered yet. Can you spot anything unusual outside? Like a sniper?” “I’ve already checked all potential sniper positions—no signs of any. I also examined all critical points within the Temple of the Goddess of Beauty—no explosives or anything like that. Which means they’ll likely strike here, in this opera hall, probably using this stage. But I’ve already inspected all the upcoming performers—nothing suspicious…” Dorothy continued replying to Adèle. After listening, Adèle focused her attention on the stage at the center of the opera hall, which bore a seven-petaled lotus motif. Dancers were still performing upon it. “But the problem now is… we don’t know what that stage actually does. I’d like to go up and inspect it, but the security there is too tight. So many people are guarding it, and with Samson on-site too, I can’t openly use my abilities in front of him and all these people…” Adèle muttered inwardly. At the moment, she had no legitimate pretext to stand on the stage. After some thought, she looked toward Samson and continued. “By the way… should we notify the consul about the danger and advise him to be cautious?” “You're overthinking it. To Falano’s senior officials, no matter what identity we use to warn them, it’ll arouse suspicion. Whether or not the warning works is uncertain, but it will definitely alert the enemy. Your identity is extremely sensitive—sounding an alarm might even let them use it against us… “Also, our goal isn’t to necessarily protect this consul—it’s to obtain King Charles’s legacy. Warning Samson might save his life, but we gain nothing. If the perpetrators back down, Samson will think the warning was false and begin investigating us instead—not worth it. But if Samson notices the assassination and we save him then, that’ll give us leverage for negotiation.” Dorothy explained her reasoning clearly: use the assassination attempt as a bargaining chip to gain partial support from Falano’s officials and seize an opportunity at King Charles’s inheritance. From the current situation, even if the assassins succeeded, Adèle would be in danger, but with Dorothy’s current power, ensuring her safe retreat wouldn’t be a problem. Adèle understood and nodded quietly. “Then for now… we just wait and see how they act.” With this thought, Adèle sipped her wine and began quietly observing the scene, waiting. At that moment, the dancers on stage concluded their performance. After bowing to the audience, they slowly stepped down. Then the announcer took to the stage and loudly declared. “Ladies and gentlemen! Let us now enjoy the next act—this year’s most unique performance of the entire banquet! Please welcome our rising star of the dance world, the ever-enchanting and seductive Miss Sandrina!” As soon as the host finished, the room erupted into murmurs of surprise. Many guests who had been dining appeared taken aback by the name and began whispering among themselves. Others showed signs of confusion. “Sandrina… Who’s that?” Seeing the situation around her, Adèle furrowed her brow in confusion and then asked a guest beside her. The guest, after letting out a drunken burp, answered. “You don’t know who Sandrina is, Miss? ...Hehe, well, that makes sense. For a typical rich young lady, it’s normal not to know. Miss Sandrina… she’s a rising dance star who’s gained popularity in Falano this past year…” “A dance star…? But if she’s just an ordinary dancer, the others wouldn’t be reacting like this…” “Hehe… of course Miss Sandrina isn’t your average dancer. She made her debut in the red-light scene, known for her bold and seductive performances. Her stunning looks and daring dance style quickly made her famous across the underground venues of many Falano cities. Lately, she’s been transitioning into more public theaters to reach broader audiences. “Even though her transformation has been quite successful—she’s gotten pretty well-known in Flottes—she’s had to tone down the sensuality of her routines to cater to the general public’s tastes. A real pity, that. For many of us male fans, that’s quite a loss. Her debut might be controversial, sure, but you can’t deny how popular she’s become lately… hic… still, I didn’t expect her to perform at the Audience Banquet. At this rate, she might become the next ‘Adèle Briouze’ of Flottes…” The tipsy guest giggled foolishly as he spoke to Adèle. Hearing his words, Adèle’s expression sharpened and she turned her gaze back toward the banquet hall. She saw a woman in a wide suit and tall top hat emerging from among the guests, stepping up onto the stage. The woman had fair skin and a handsome face, with slightly wavy dark brown hair. Though her complexion was pale, she wore heavily applied makeup—deep eyeshadow, bright lipstick—exuding a decadent, sickly sort of beauty. From Adèle’s perspective, her style was certainly offbeat and non-mainstream. But Adèle’s attention wasn’t on Sandrina’s attire—it was on the cane she drew from a gift box held by a servant as she ascended the stage. That cane, with a large head wrapped in silk, immediately triggered some unpleasant memories in Adèle’s mind. “That cane…” “Sandrina…” On the main guest platform, Samson frowned as he saw Sandrina walk up onto the stage and turned to ask an aide beside him. “For an event like this… is it appropriate for her to be on stage?” “Miss Sandrina represents a new generation of dancers breaking tradition. Of course she’s suited to perform at a banquet hosted by Your Excellency. I believe her dance will bring a fresh energy to the Temple of the Goddess of Beauty.” Hearing the aide’s reply, Samson nodded quietly and continued watching as Sandrina stepped onto the stage adorned with the seven-petaled lotus emblem. Once on stage, Sandrina opened her arms wide to the guests. Many in the stands responded with enthusiastic applause, and she began her performance. Rhythmic music filled the venue. Sandrina’s steps moved swiftly across the stage, her body swaying in time as a solo dance unfolded. At first glance, it looked like a tap dance, but it was something else entirely. Sandrina’s movements, complemented by her cane, included a series of suggestive gestures—fleeting but provocative enough to leave deep impressions on the male audience members, whose eyes were glued to her. From the center of the stage, a strange magical energy spread outward—not affecting Samson, but seeping into everyone else. Sandrina’s dance stirred their desires; all eyes locked onto her. Adèle quickly noticed something was wrong. “This is… desire manipulation… Just as I thought, that cane really is that thing. It’s from my teacher…” A flood of memory surged into Adèle’s mind—visions of her teacher, Darlene, being turned into a tool. She became certain that the cane in Sandrina’s hand was one of those instruments—perhaps even a part of her teacher that hadn’t yet been used. “Damn Afterbirth Cult…!” Fury surged within her. Adèle couldn't help but unleash a wave of killing intent directed at Sandrina. At that moment, Sandrina’s lips curled into a smile. “There it is… You still couldn’t hold it in, Adèle…” On stage, Sandrina twirled her cane. In an instant, Adèle felt her faint killing intent suddenly explode into an uncontrollable storm—and what’s worse, it shifted direction, turning toward the main guest platform! Adèle’s eyes were bloodshot as she looked in that direction. “Urgh…” Just as Adèle was about to lose control, a powerful force abruptly seized her entire body, freezing her in place. At the peak of her fury, Dorothy intervened—activating the Marionette Mark and forcibly turning Adèle into a living marionette to stop her from acting. After the worst of the impulse was suppressed, Adèle’s own will began to push back. She activated her ability to control her desire, gradually regaining composure. “Heh… Impressive willpower. But let’s see how you handle what’s next…” Watching Adèle overcome the memory-triggered surge of desire, Sandrina smiled faintly. Then she twirled her cane again, continuing to unleash her power on the venue. Scattered throughout the banquet hall, members of the Bourbon remnant line suddenly found themselves overwhelmed by rage and murderous intent. They too glared angrily toward the guest platform. “Samson… that traitor…” Adèle acted once again, suppressing the rising murderous desire among the Bourbon remnants, forcing them all back to a normal state. Seeing this, Sandrina’s smile deepened. “As expected of Darlene’s beloved student… you’ve got some skill. But as long as I stand on this stage, you can’t beat me!” With that thought, Sandrina escalated her performance. She yanked off her loose-fitting suit, revealing the outfit beneath. It was a tight black leather bodysuit that clung to her body like a second skin, highlighting her curvaceous figure. Her chest area had a wide open cut, exposing a large portion of skin. For this era, the outfit was undeniably scandalous—eliciting gasps from many of the women in the audience. “Succumb, my dear guests!” With that shout, like a declaration, Sandrina’s dance accelerated in intensity. Her desire-manipulating power surged rapidly, and Adèle began to feel like she wouldn’t be able to suppress it much longer. “What the…?” Adèle frowned and quickly changed her strategy. Instead of resisting Sandrina’s desire, she targeted it. Drawing on her own vast experience as a dancer and with the help of Dorothy’s computational brain power, she began analyzing and predicting Sandrina’s choreography, calculating each movement’s vulnerability. Thanks to the computational power of a Crimson-rank and her own genius as a dancer, Adèle quickly deciphered the design of Sandrina’s routine and identified a moment she could exploit. As Sandrina was about to perform a large sweeping cane movement, Adèle amplified the desire associated with that action, intensifying Sandrina’s own urge. As a result, Sandrina put far more force into it than intended—so much that she lost grip of the cane and flung it into a nearby column. “Yes… with that, her cane should be disabled!” Seeing this, Adèle was delighted—but the next moment froze her in place. The cane struck the column, and its silk-wrapped head shattered—but instead of the expected burst of brain matter or flesh, only ordinary glass spilled out. There was no hidden brain inside the cane. And even though Sandrina no longer held it, her control over the desires of the audience didn’t diminish at all… The power of desire manipulation—came from Sandrina herself, not the cane…