"Invite Marcus for me, Rosalia." Max leaned close to her ear and whispered, his breath brushing softly against her skin. He had already chosen the leader he could trust for the Ice Dragon Clan.

His eyes then moved to Agnia. "Do you have anybody in mind that you’d trust to be a great and wise leader?"

Agnia did not answer. Her eyes had drifted somewhere else, her fingers absently brushing the edge of the table as if her mind was still trapped in the words he had said earlier.

"Agnia," Max said louder.

Only then did she snap back, her shoulders twitching slightly.

"What?" She looked around. Freya and Gertrud wore frustrated expressions, while Max smiled warmly at her, almost as if he knew exactly where her thoughts had gone.

"I asked if you have anybody you’d like me to appoint as a House Head for your dragon clan. I need to meet them."

The chair under Agnia scraped against the ground suddenly. She stood up, her hands pressing against the table as her expression grew serious.

"Yes. His name is Sigmund. He was my tutor, a great warrior with a sharp mind. He would fit right in. I’ll go fetch him right now."

"Let me accompany you." Rosalia walked from Max’s side to the door, opening it before Agnia could move past her. She turned back, gesturing for Agnia to follow with a calm smile that carried something hidden beneath it. She had some plans to have a chat, just the two of them.

The look in her eyes made Agnia clench her teeth. Her fingers tightened at her side, and for a moment, heat flickered faintly beneath her skin. She hated Rosalia, and she knew that nothing good could happen if the two of them were left alone, especially after Rosalia had mysteriously grown stronger. She suspected Max had something to do with it, but she did not know how or why.

"Good idea. The two of you should go together," Max encouraged, his jaw resting on his palm as his eyes moved between them playfully.

Biting her lower lip, Agnia followed Rosalia, the two of them disappearing into the corridors of the Fire Castle. Her steps were tense, but Rosalia did not slow down, as if giving her a chance to retreat was never part of her plan.

"Now, let’s discuss the same matter with the two of you." Max’s expression grew serious the moment only Freya and Gertrud remained.

"As long as you don’t touch us, we will comply," Freya said firmly, her chin raised and her eyes still burning with defensive anger.

Max leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs as it swayed slowly beneath him. A cold smile rose on his face.

The two women froze.

He was smiling, but his eyes had turned dark and dangerous, making the warmth on his lips feel like a mask stretched over something far less kind.

"I am many things... A thief. A killer. Perhaps you could call me a tyrant. A liar fits me as well. But..." He stopped swaying, the chair holding still at the edge of the table.

Then he leaned forward.

The front legs crashed back onto the floor with a loud thud, making both women flinch.

"I am not a rapist. I have many different ways to make a woman come to me willingly. Don’t insult me again."

A warm smile returned to his lips as if nothing had happened, and that terrified Freya more than his anger. She understood the warning beneath his words. He would not drag them by force, but that did not mean they were beyond his reach.

Gertrud, however, felt her heart pounding harder. She did not understand why, but something about that dangerous shift in him made her thoughts spiral, as if she was already seeing a side of him she should have feared, yet could not fully look away from.

"Now, back to business, shall we?" Max clapped his hands, the sound cutting through the heavy silence. "I want the two of you to bring me your best candidates for the House Head position. I want them loyal to you, not to your emperors. Are we clear?"

Silence followed.

Freya’s lips tightened, while Gertrud remained strangely quiet, her fingers still trembling faintly against her palm.

"Are we clear?" Max raised his voice slightly.

"Y-yes." Freya whimpered. She grabbed Gertrud’s hand and dragged her away from him with hurried steps. She was afraid the young girl would be manipulated and pulled toward him by the look she had given him.

That strange confusion in Gertrud’s eyes, mixed with something far warmer, had made Freya’s stomach twist. She wanted to protect her from Max’s lewd and dangerous grip, no matter what it took.

After the door closed and Max remained alone, his face darkened.

"What am I even doing?" He looked at the table and shook his head. The role of leader was starting to weigh on him more than he could ever have imagined.

He sat there in silence, thinking about everything that had happened after he came to this world. He had learned about magic, found a woman who loved him, became powerful, and would even become a father in nine months.

So why did it still feel so empty?

Why did nothing seem to go his way no matter what he did?

And most importantly, how had he even ended up here? Even to this day, he was nowhere close to cracking that mystery. Power, women, bloodlines, and kingdoms; none of it answered the question that had been buried in his mind since the first moment he opened his eyes in this world.

Suddenly, somebody knocked on the door.

Thinking it was one of the women, Max said, "Come in," casually, his tired eyes still resting on the table.

The door opened.

A cloaked figure stepped inside, their face hidden beneath a white hood trimmed with gold. They were not part of any of the dragon clans.

"Are you King Maximus?" a seductive woman’s voice asked from beneath the hood. "My king, Caratacus, sends his warm regards..."