“Lady of Gold?”

  Helena didn’t need anyone to explain it. She could already guess how that name was born. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Show power or throw gold once in public, and suddenly you were no longer a person — you were a title.

  “Lady of Gold…” she repeated inwardly. “Could I not earn at least one normal name?”

  At least people didn’t know it was her yet.

  But she understood something very well. Truth never stayed buried forever. The more you tried to hide it, the more dramatic the reveal became. Sooner or later, the embarrassment would arrive.

  If Joseph and Hana were here, they would tease her endlessly. Just imagining their faces made a faint smile tug at her lips.

  What was done was done.

  Decades ago, she might have stood here and cried from pure humiliation. Now she only exhaled slowly. Time had patched many wounds. She was no longer someone who collapsed over something this small.

  Krome was still looking at her, waiting for an answer.

  “I wasn’t joking, Krome,” Helena said calmly. “That estate really belongs to me.”

  He opened his mouth, ready to laugh it off, but she cut him off before he could.

  “Want to come over for night tea?”

  “Sure—” he answered automatically.

  Then his brain caught up.

  “Wait. What?”

  Helena snapped her fingers.

  Krome felt the vibration through his boots first. Then the ground in front of them began to rise in a straight, controlled line. From where Helena stood all the way to the estate gates, earth lifted upward and hardened into a wide elevated path above the crowd.

  It happened in seconds.

  The people below reacted immediately. Confusion turned into noise. Some panicked. Some shouted that it was just earth magic. Others stepped back, afraid something might collapse.

  Helena didn’t wait.

  “Let’s go, Krome.”

  She walked up the newly formed stairs as if this were the most natural solution in the world. Krome followed, pulled forward by the situation before he could properly decide.

  The problem was the crowd’s reaction.

  Hundreds of irritated and angry gazes followed them. People who had been standing for hours were now looking up at the two of them walking above their heads.

  “Oi! Krome! What the hell are you doing up there?” someone shouted.

  Krome lifted both hands helplessly. He genuinely had no idea what he was doing.

  Leaning closer to Helena, he whispered, “We should hurry. I feel like people are about to start climbing.”

  “Don’t worry,” Helena replied casually. “If someone tries climbing, I made sure they won’t even be able to climb into their own beds tonight.”

  Krome did not ask what that meant.

  It took them more than five minutes to reach the estate gates. The crowd was that massive.

  Helena remembered something and asked, “So who is this Riona?”

  Krome blinked. “You really don’t know?”

  “No. I don’t know a damn thing. Tell me. Short version.”

  He studied her briefly. Almost everyone on the continent knew that name. Only someone not from here would be this ignorant.

  “Riona is the divine messenger of Goddess Thymera,” Krome explained. “The last time she descended, she purged the Church when it became corrupted. It was a massacre ordered by the Goddess herself. That’s how she earned the name ‘The Judge.’ People believe that whenever she appears, humanity needs to repent.”

  He hesitated slightly before adding, “And that same Archangel Riona is currently inside that manor. That’s what I heard.”

  Helena’s expression shifted into curiosity rather than concern.

  “Oh? Someone interesting walked into my territory,” she said. “Now I really want to know why she came here of all places. Maybe to give me some small divine punishment.”

  Krome’s face paled instantly. “Please don’t joke about things like that. It’s bad for my heart.”

  Helena laughed lightly. “Relax. I’m not such a grand sinner that heaven needs to send someone personally.”

  She paused.

  “…Or maybe I am?”

  Krome nodded weakly, though he did not look convinced.

  As they neared the estate gates, Helena slowed and looked down at the area below.

  “This part looks different,” she said. “It wasn’t like this before.”

  Beyond a certain line, everything was far more organized. Proper tents had been erected. Guards stood in formation. The crowd had been divided carefully. It was no longer chaos.

  Krome followed her gaze. “Of course it’s different. Beyond that point, only nobles are allowed. No commoners can cross.”

  Helena looked closer. The well-dressed figures gathered near the restricted section looked even more irritated than the commoners. Their frustration wasn’t about curiosity. It was about pride. Being stopped in public did not suit them.

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  Below, she felt small impacts against the pillars of her elevated path. A few had tried attacking it. She had reinforced it heavily; not even vibrations reached her feet.

  She had already handled the more stubborn ones. A handful who tried too hard to damage the structure were now six feet underground. Not dead. Just buried. If they managed to dig themselves out before running out of breath, good for them. If not, that was their miscalculation.

  She avoided open killing for a simple reason. There were too many children in the crowd. Watching someone skewered publicly would not be pleasant for them. She had no interest in turning this into a spectacle.

  When they finally reached the front of the estate, Helena noticed something else. A faint transparent layer shimmered over the gates. The same layer covered the entire perimeter wall.

  “A barrier?” Krome muttered, leaning forward slightly. “Reverse gravity type. That explains why no one is entering.”

  Helena glanced at him, about to ask, but he continued.

  “It’s a high-class barrier spell. Softer than a hard defensive wall. It pushes things back instead of blocking them completely. But if you force it, it rebounds with considerable pressure. Not something ordinary mages can cast.”

  Helena’s gaze shifted inward, toward the garden.

  There, pacing restlessly near the entrance, was Morris.

  He was the one maintaining the barrier. He had refused entry to everyone. Nobles. Royal family representatives. Even the Merchant Guild Master. All of them had been turned away and forced to wait.

  Rias was nowhere to be seen.

  The name Helena Winterwell had already surfaced under pressure from nobles demanding explanations from the Guild. But Morris had held firm. He would not open the gates until his mistress returned.

  In the process, he had earned more enemies in a single afternoon than in his entire life.

  If Elowen gave him permission, he would likely disappear into the mountains for a year after this.

  Helena stepped forward and lightly jumped down from the end of her raised path toward the gates.

  Morris’s pacing stopped instantly when he noticed movement. His head snapped up.

  “MYYYY LAADDYYYYYY!” he shouted at full volume. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!”

  The voice carried across the restricted zone and into the nobles’ crowd. Dozens of heads turned at once.

  Krome stared at Helena, then at Morris, then back at Helena. The situation was escalating far beyond what he had expected.

  Morris nearly ran straight into his own barrier in his rush before remembering it was still active. He quickly dispelled the spell. The shimmering layer vanished, and the gates opened immediately.

  Behind them, the crowd began murmuring loudly.

  “Wait… is she the owner?” “I thought she was just another person trying to force her way in.” “I’ve never seen her before.” “Does anyone know her?”

  Helena stepped forward calmly, about to cross into her estate.

  Then a voice from the crowd rose above the others, sharp and forceful.

  “SHE IS AN IMPOSTER!”

  ---

  The voice that shouted was not random.

  It belonged to someone who had frozen moments earlier, staring as if the world had tilted.

  Iscar Winterwell.

  For a few seconds, he had only stood there, mind blank. The person he had searched for seven years. The shadow that ruined their family name. The reason Winterwell fell from grace. He had imagined this meeting countless times — but never like this. Never in front of thousands.

  Even if her face had changed slightly, even if something about her felt different, he recognized her without hesitation.

  Shock hardened into anger.

  “WAIT! SHE IS AN IMPOSTER!”

  Heads turned immediately.

  An elderly noble standing beside him frowned. “What are you saying, young man?”

  “I SAID SHE IS MY SISTER!” Iscar roared, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “She’s a runaway criminal! Where is the Royal Family representative?!”

  Helena stopped mid-step.

  She did not turn fully. Only her eyes shifted sideways toward him.

  Too many emotions layered inside that glance. A part of her did not want to care. Another part wanted to silence him permanently. And somewhere deep inside, buried under years of distance, the word family still carried weight.

  Even if she no longer considered them hers.

  A quiet question rose in her mind.

  If I kill him, does that make me a real monster? Even if he is only family by blood?

  There was no answer waiting for her. Only a hollow space where certainty should have been.

  Iscar kept shouting her name, each word stripping more dignity from the Winterwell name he claimed to protect.

  Krome and Morris exchanged a quick look. Both understood immediately that this was not a simple accusation. Something personal was unfolding.

  When Iscar failed to locate any royal representatives nearby, he began pushing forward toward Helena, fists clenched, face twisted with anger.

  Krome’s eyes narrowed slightly. It did not take him long to recognize Morris properly now that he was closer. Even if appearances changed with time, S-Rank adventurers were not forgotten.

  Their gazes met briefly. No words were needed.

  Krome placed a hand lightly on Helena’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Miss Helena. Staying here will only attract more unnecessary attention. And I am genuinely looking forward to that tea.”

  Helena turned her eyes toward him slowly.

  “Krome.”

  “Yes?”

  “You suck.”

  He blinked. “Why?”

  “You don’t even know how to distract someone properly.”

  For a second he considered responding, then decided against it.

  Helena exhaled quietly. “Whatever. Let’s go. I don’t want to waste my time here.”

  Without looking back again, she stepped through the gates.

  Krome followed.

  Behind them, Iscar’s shouting continued, but the gates closed between them and the noise.

  “WAIT! YOU—! I SAID STOP!” he screamed, composure gone. “DON’T IGNORE ME! I’VE BEEN TRYING TO FIND YOU FOR YEARS!”

  The nobles around him shifted uncomfortably. Pride, reputation, dignity — all of it was unraveling in public.

  He opened his mouth to shout again.

  Nothing came out.

  His lips moved, but no sound followed. It felt as if they had been sealed shut. Panic flickered across his face.

  “Mmm… mmnn—!”

  A cold voice answered from behind him.

  “I do not mind making another enemy today.”

  Morris was walking toward him.

  The crowd instinctively stepped back, clearing space without being told. The shouting died down. The only sound left was the steady rhythm of Morris’s shoes against the stone.

  There was no humor in his expression now. No flustered anxiety from earlier. It was flat and cold.

  “I am already paid for this month,” Morris said evenly. “I cannot afford to tolerate additional insults toward my mistress. Kindly close that filthy mouth of yours.”

  Recognition dawned in Iscar’s eyes.

  Morris. The Gravemancer(Gravity).

  Even retired S-Rank names did not disappear easily.

  The next second, Iscar’s face slammed into the ground.

  There was no theatrical display. No visible spellcasting.

  Just weight.

  Gravity bent around him and pressed him down. It was not an illusion. It was real force, compacting his body against the stone.

  Iscar’s mind snapped back from blind rage into fear. He tried to activate Body Enchantment, pushing mana into his limbs to resist.

  The pressure doubled instantly.

  His chest flattened harder against the pavement. Breath became difficult.

  Morris stepped closer and crouched in front of him.

  “Please refrain from insulting my lady,” he said quietly. “Otherwise, I will be required to take measures that may not be reversible.”

  ---

  Inside the manor, the air felt heavy for different reasons.

  Helena and Krome walked silently behind the maid guiding them through the corridor.

  2nd

  Seeing Iscar from afar in the past had been distant and manageable. Hearing him scream like that had stirred fragments of memory she did not care to revisit.

  Her memory was not perfect. She forgot many things easily. But some emotions remained.

  The irritation sitting in her chest was not dramatic.

  It was steady.

  The maid stopped before a door. “We’ve arrived, my lady.”

  Helena lifted her eyes.

  The door opened.

  Inside the waiting room were three people. Laysandra. Elowen. And the woman in white armor.

  No wings were visible on her back, yet Helena did not need them to identify her. The energy in the room felt different around her. Warm. Controlled. Vast. Not oppressive, but undeniably powerful.

  So this is the angel.

  Riona stood from her seat and stepped forward. Her presence filled the room without effort.

  She looked at Helena directly.

  “Come with me, child,” Riona said. Her voice carried warmth, but also command. “You have been graced by fate. Her Majesty has chosen you herself to serve under her.”

  Krome stiffened.

  Laysandra held her breath.

  Even Elowen’s posture sharpened subtly.

  Helena looked at Riona for several seconds.

  Then her lips parted.

  “No thanks.”