Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 119: Names Written in Ink and Blood

[Veyrhold House — Levin’s Chamber — Night]

Night settled quietly over the Thalryn Empire.

Moonlight slipped through the balcony doors of Levin’s chamber, spreading pale silver across the floor. The fire in the hearth burned low but steady, its warmth filling the room, yet the calm inside the chamber felt fragile, as if one wrong thought could shatter it.

Levin stood before the tall mirror.

His robe hung loose around his shoulders, half open, his upper body bare to the cold light. His gaze rested on his stomach, unmoving, searching for something that was not yet there.

No curve, no sign, and no proof that two lives were growing inside him.

His fingers moved slowly, stopping just above his abdomen, not touching, only hovering there as if he feared that even his own hand might disturb the fragile life he carried.

His eyes were lonely, not broken, or crying. Just... lonely.

On the floor behind him, Lyresaph circled restlessly, silver scales catching the firelight as he moved again and again, unable to settle. His blue eyes kept lifting toward Levin, every turn filled with quiet worry.

Asha sat near the bed, her little large striped body curled in a tired loaf, tail flicking once in irritation as she watched the dragon walk in circles.

"Mewr..."

Her flat expression said everything.

Lyresaph ignored her, stopping at last near Levin’s feet and looking up, his head tilting slightly as if waiting for a command that never came.

Levin noticed; his gaze softened faintly, though the sadness in it did not disappear.

"...I’m fine, Lyresaph." His voice was quiet and steady. "Do not worry."

The dragon blinked slowly, not convinced.

Levin looked back at the mirror, back at his stomach; his hand finally rested there, lightly this time.

"I know... there are many things happening right now..."

A pause; his fingers tightened just a little. "...but I cannot let them face the world the moment they are born with the weight of the throne on their backs."

Lyresaph let out a low sound, almost a rumble.

Asha stood up and walked toward Levin, her paws silent on the floor. She nudged his leg gently with her head, then looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

Levin looked down at both of them; for a moment, the loneliness in his expression softened into something warmer.

Something protective and something stronger.

His thoughts moved slowly.

’An emperor taking concubines... is not strange. It is the law. It is the throne.’

A breath left him.

"...It was I who forgot what kind of world I married into."

He pulled the robe around himself, covering his body, tying the belt slowly with steady hands; his voice grew quieter.

"But that does not mean my children must suffer for my mistake."

He turned away from the mirror; the loneliness in his eyes did not vanish. It hardened into resolve. Into something that would not bend again.

"I will make sure they are born safely."

He walked to the desk without hurry and sat down, the chair creaking softly beneath his weight.

Lyresaph jumped onto the table at once, curling near the edge, watching every movement. Asha climbed onto the chair beside him, placing her paws on his knee as if refusing to leave him alone.

Levin pulled a sheet of parchment toward himself; he dipped the brush in ink.

Paused.

His eyes lowered for a moment, then he began writing. Each stroke is slow, careful, and deliberate.

Lyresaph’s tail flicked once, sensing the change in his aura.

Levin’s voice grew firmer.

"I will not allow them to be born into a nest of snakes without knowing who the fangs belong to."

Ink scratched across the parchment, his eyes narrowed.

"Before anything else..." A pause. "...I must find the traitor walking inside Silthara Palace."

The brush stopped.

Levin leaned back slightly, his hand resting once more over his stomach, his expression calm again—but no longer weak.

Only tired and only determined. Even if he had to stand alone, even if the throne stood against him.

He whispered softly, almost to the lives inside him—

"...Do not be afraid." His fingers pressed lightly against the fabric. "I will stand until you can stand on your own."

A long silence followed.

The fire cracked quietly in the hearth. Lyresaph shifted on the table, his tail curling around the inkstone, watching Levin with sharp, unblinking eyes.

Then Levin exhaled slowly and leaned back further, his head resting against the chair.

"...But..." His brows drew together slightly. "...Who exactly is the traitor inside that palace...?"

His eyes moved to the parchment in front of him.

Names.

Dozens of names.

Nobles. Guards. Attendants. Advisors. Servants. Court officials. Every person who had stood inside Silthara Palace since the day he arrived there.

He picked up the brush again. The tip hovered over the page as his mind began to move backward, slowly and carefully.

He started recalling everything.

Every meeting and every hallway. Every glance that had lingered too long. Every silence that felt wrong.

He muttered quietly, "From the moment I entered Silthara... nothing happened without someone watching."

The brush touched the parchment; he drew a line under the first group of names.

"The great houses..." His eyes narrowed slightly. "The nobles who are pillars of Zahryssar do not stay inside the palace unless summoned."

He crossed several names one by one.

House Nahrash, House Varoth, and House Ashkarin.

"They come only when the throne calls them... and they leave as soon as the council ends...and the previous consorts died the moment they entered the palace."

His gaze sharpened.

"That means the one who acts... is already inside."

Lyresaph tilted his head slightly, watching the brush move faster now.

Levin leaned forward.

"Someone who stays close to the emperor."

He wrote several names in the center of the page.

Arkhazunn.Naburash.Lady Arinaya.Captain Varesh.Iru.

His fingers tapped the desk slowly.

One by one.

"...Lady Arinaya..." He circled her name first, then stopped; his eyes softened faintly.

"No...it cannot be her." His voice grew firmer. "She is already standing with me against High Ensi Rakhane... She tried to protect House Karzath even knowing it could cost her life."

A breath.

"She would not poison the palace she is trying to save."

Cross.

The name disappeared; his brush moved again.

"...Iru."

He stared at the name for longer.

Lyresaph watched him carefully.

Levin’s lips pressed together, and then he crossed it out, his voice lowered.

"Since Iru revealed his true form to me... he knew I could have executed him at that very moment. A faint pause. "If he were a traitor... he would never have taken that risk." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Another line.

Gone.

Now only three names remained.

Arkhazunn.Naburash.Varesh.

Levin leaned back again, his fingers rubbing slowly against his forehead.

"...Arkhazunn..." His eyes half-closed as he thought. "He grew up with Zeramet... but he does not stay inside the palace all the time."

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

His finger struck the table lightly.

"If he were the traitor... the time-stopping incident... the Srriirash heart..." His eyes opened sharply. "He would have exposed it long ago."

Cross.

Only two names left.

Captain Varesh and...Naburash.

The room grew quieter.

Even the fire seemed to burn lower. Levin leaned forward again, his gaze fixed on the parchment as if the ink itself might answer him.

"...Captain Varesh..." His fingers tapped slowly. "He never speaks unless spoken to."

Tap.

"Never shows his thoughts."

Tap.

"Never questions anything."

Tap.

"Always watching."

His eyes shifted to the second name.

"...Naburash..." His brows tightened more deeply now. "He has been with the Malik since he has taken the throne..."

Tap.

"He moves freely inside the palace."

Tap.

"He knows every corridor... every guard... every order..."

Tap.

"And..."

Levin’s hand stopped, and his eyes darkened slightly.

"...He was the one who came to bring me to Zahryssar."

The brush lowered slowly. The ink touched the parchment again; he drew a circle around both names.

Varesh and Naburash.

Lyresaph let out a low rumble, sensing the change in Levin’s aura. Levin stared at the page for a long time.

Long enough that the ink began to dry.

His voice came out quiet.

These two... They are the ones who stand closest to the throne. His fingers tightened around the brush. "If the poison entered the palace...it had to pass through someone the emperor trusts."

His eyes narrowed.

Sharp.

Cold.

Thinking like a ruler now, not like a husband, not like a consort, like the heir of Veyrhold.

"...Then the traitor..." His finger pressed against the two circled names. "...is among them."

***

[Zahryssar Empire — Silthara Palace — Throne Room — The Next Day]

The throne room of Silthara Palace burned with golden light.

Tall pillars carved with ancient serpent sigils rose toward the domed ceiling, their shadows twisting across the marble floor like coiled bodies waiting to strike. Blue braziers burned along the walls, their flames steady and unnatural, filling the hall with a cold glow that made even the desert heat outside feel distant.

At the head of the chamber, upon the stone throne, sat the Serpent Emperor.

Zeramet Karash.

One leg crossed over the other, elbow resting on the armrest carved in the shape of a serpent’s head, a parchment held loosely between his fingers as if the matters of empires weighed no more than dust.

Before him stood the gathered nobles of Zahryssar.

Lady Samhira Nahrash stepped forward first, bowing deeply, her posture perfect, her voice controlled.

"Malik... I have personally inspected the vault."

Zeramet did not look at her immediately, his golden eyes remained on the parchment as he turned the page slowly.

"And?"

Samhira lifted her head slightly.

"It contains a great quantity of mana stones. More than the scouts reported. Enough to strengthen our medicine halls, our enchantments... even the royal reserves."

A faint murmur passed through the court.

Samhira continued.

"If Zahryssar stands with the western empire, the benefit to our growth will be—"

"The vault."

Zeramet spoke without raising his voice, rhe single word cut through the hall like a blade, his eyes lifted at last.

"...It is not exactly on the border, is it?"

Samhira froze, only for a moment, but the emperor had already seen it. Her fingers tightened inside her sleeve before she bowed again.

"...It lies near the borderlands, Malik."

Zeramet’s gaze sharpened.

"Near... is not the same as on."

Silence fell heavier.

Samhira forced herself to continue.

"With respect, Malik... the exact line does not matter. What matters is that the western empire holds the greater strength. If we stand beside the strongest—"

Zeramet lowered the parchment, slowly. The sound of paper touching stone echoed louder than it should have.

"Where I stand..." His voice was low, dangerously low. "...that empire becomes the strongest, Lady Samhira."

No one moved.

His golden eyes burned faintly.

"So do not try to guide me with the word strength as if I were a child choosing sides in a market quarrel."

Several nobles lowered their heads at once. Sharukh Varoth stepped forward carefully, bowing.

"Malik... the vault was first claimed by Thalryn territory."

Zeramet’s eyes shifted to him.

Sharukh continued.

"But their soldiers are young... their forces thin... the western empire moved faster and secured the site before Thalryn could gather strength."

Zeramet leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping once against the armrest.

"...So." A faint tilt of his head. "You mean to say... the stronger empire used the weakness of the weaker one... and now calls it right."

Sharukh bowed deeper.

"...Yes, Malik."

A long silence followed. Zeramet’s gaze moved slowly across the nobles, one by one, like a serpent deciding where to strike.

Then his eyes returned to Samhira.

"Lady Samhira."

Her shoulders stiffened.

"Yes... Malik."

"I want the exact reason you insist that Zahryssar must stand with the western empire instead of Thalryn." His voice remained calm, too calm.

"If you cannot place that reason in my hand by evening..."

A faint pause.

"...I will place a different name on yours."

The hall went still. Zeramet’s eyes darkened.

"Traitor."

Samhira’s breath caught.

"Malik, I— I only wished to think for the growth of Zahryssar, I would never stand against the mother of this empire—"

"By evening." He cut her off without even looking at her. "You have until then to prove that your loyalty belongs to Zahryssar... and not to some whisper behind my throne."

Her face paled. Zeramet leaned back again, already bored.

"Next matter."

For a moment, no one moved, then—Rakhane stepped forward, his robe dragged across the floor, his one eye hidden beneath the black patch, the other watching the emperor carefully as he bowed.

"Malik... there is... unusual news."

Zeramet’s fingers tapped the armrest once.

"Speak."

Rakhane hesitated only a breath.

"...The concubines chosen for the imperial chambers..." His voice lowered. "...All of them were found dead this morning."

The court gasped.

Several nobles stepped back in shock. Naburash’s eyes widened as he looked toward the throne. Even Arkhazunn straightened in surprise.

But Zeramet...he did not move, his leg remained crossed and his fingers tapped the armrest again.

Once.

Twice.

"...I expected as much."

The words fell like cold iron.

Naburash blinked in disbelief.

"You... expected this, Malik?"

Zeramet’s lips curved faintly.

"The Black Serpent does not sleep." His gaze moved across the hall slowly. "Did you truly believe the black serpent would spare omega’s to enter the emperor’s chamber... as if nothing had happened before?"

Rakhane’s jaw tightened.

"But... the Malika survived the every incident, Malik, so we believed the danger had passed—"

"My consort survived because he is strong." Zeramet’s voice cut through the hall like thunder, his golden eyes flashed.

"That does not mean the poison in the walls has died with it."

Silence.

Heavy.

Arkhazunn stepped forward, bowing.

"The Malik speaks truth. We were foolish to believe the matter ended. If the palace itself rejects the presence of concubines... forcing the matter again may bring worse disaster."

Several nobles nodded quickly.

"Yes... yes..."

"It may be a sign..."

"We should not take any risk with other omega’s..."

Rakhane’s fist clenched inside his sleeve. Zeramet leaned back deeper into the throne, watching them all.

Watching Rakhane and a slow smile spread across his lips.

Cold, sharp, and satisfied.

"...It seems," he said lazily, "the throne has spoken for us."

The nobles lowered their heads.

"Then the matter of concubines..." Arkhazunn began. "...should be ended here."

Zeramet’s smirk widened just a little.

"Yes." His eyes flickered with something dark. "Let the other omega’s live in peace."

Rakhane stared at him, his jaw tight, his thoughts burning behind his single eye.

’It was you...’ His fingers curled slowly. ’You killed them, you destroyed the list before it could even reach the palace.’

Zeramet met his gaze for the briefest moment, and smiled. Not kindly, not warmly, like a serpent that had already swallowed its prey.