The True Culprit and a Meal in the Glass Rooftop Room

Just as Serena Feng predicted, before Reid Yale even woke up, the Emperor had already issued his orders. As the prime suspect, Serena should have been thrown in prison, but because the Serena–Su Clan Grand Contest was imminent, the Emperor made a special exception: he sent Imperial Guards to surround Feng Manor. Aside from routine supply runs, no one from Feng Manor was allowed in or out—especially Serena, who was forbidden to step beyond the gates.

Losing her freedom for now didn’t bother Serena; what did bother her was that Victor Yun’s surgery had to be postponed yet again. She had originally arranged for Victor to move into Feng Manor on the eighth day of the New Year to prepare for his operation, but the explosive demand for her prenatal tonic delayed him once, and now the City Lord of Night City’s death delayed him again, forcing Serena to change the date.

Fine, she’d reschedule. Serena and Victor Yun agreed she would finish his surgery before the contest with Rose Su. After all, no one could guarantee there wouldn’t be any accidents during the contest—if Serena got hurt, it could delay things by ten days or half a month. But now, the City Lord of Night City had been killed, and everything was upended again.

“I honestly don’t know if Victor Yun is the unlucky one, or if I am.” Serena brooded over all this mess, feeling thoroughly frustrated.

“It’s not you who’s unlucky—it’s everyone who gets involved with you. I actually feel sorry for Reid Yale.” Prince Titus’s injuries had mostly healed, but he still couldn’t put weight on his legs.

Originally, Prince Titus planned to stay a few more days, but after what happened, he couldn’t remain at Feng Manor any longer.

With watchers everywhere inside and outside Feng Manor, it was nearly impossible for him to do anything. Right now, he was locked in a crucial struggle with Prince Terrence—if he couldn’t gather intel or issue orders in time, Terrence would seize the advantage, and it would be a disaster.

You have to realize, waiting for a favored consort’s pregnancy to end in miscarriage isn’t easy—miss this chance, and who knows when the next one will come.

“I’m the one who’s unlucky, okay? The City Lord’s death has nothing to do with me.” Serena had nothing but scorn for Prince Titus’s plan to slip away alone.

“The City Lord may not have died by your hand, but he died because of you, indirectly. If the killers hadn’t wanted to frame you, maybe they wouldn’t have killed him at all.” Prince Titus’s attitude was strictly neutral.

Serena rolled her eyes, exasperated. "You can't just blame me for having a feud with Reid Yale and pin everything on me."

"Why not? Haven't you noticed how the royal family loves to hold grudges? Even if Reid Yale finds out you're not the killer, he still won't let you off the hook." Prince Titus's voice was a pointed reminder—proving your innocence won't make Night City forgive and forget.

"I get it." Serena nodded after a moment of silence—she never planned to make peace with Reid Yale, and even if he wanted to, she wouldn't agree.

"Thanks for the heads-up. If you run into Ninth Royal Uncle on your way out, tell him I'll handle this myself. I don't want him dragged into this mess." Serena's tone was firm—she'd never let Nolan get pulled in if she could help it.

Prince Titus gave Serena a long, deep look, then nodded. "Got it. Anything else? Want me to tell Ninth Royal Uncle how pitiful you are, stuck here in Feng Manor?"

He was definitely jealous of Ninth Royal Uncle—why did his woman have to be so much stronger than most? Framed for murder, yet instead of crying for help, she insisted on handling it herself.

Seriously, if every woman were like Serena, what would men even do with themselves?

"You're joking, Prince Titus. I'm just fine in Feng Manor. But you take care—watch your step so you don't get hurt again. Feng Manor’s easy to get into, but once the Imperial Guards seal it, it’s a lot harder to get out." Serena teased, her warning both kind and sly.

"Don’t worry, I won’t be that unlucky. And you don’t need to envy me—I’m not like you, so I won’t be locked up in Feng Manor. It’s not jail, but it’s even worse than jail." Prince Titus shot back, refusing to lose the verbal sparring.

"Yeah, right!"