I Got Married to a Yandere Queen

The guard walked with steady steps. Even from a few meters away, the golden-eyed man could already sense the difference. The density of mana surrounding his body was thicker than the others. Not too obvious, but clear enough for those with heightened perception. With a single glance, the man could estimate his power level.

"Marked Soul, Intermediate," he murmured inwardly.

The guard finally stopped in front of him, standing tall with a suspicious look in his eyes. His voice was cold and measured. "You look suspicious. Who are you? Where did you come from? I've never seen you in this city."

The golden-eyed man didn't respond immediately. He slowly raised a hand, rubbing the side of his neck as if loosening stiff muscles. Then, in a lazy, quiet voice—more like a murmur only the guard could hear—he said.

**"I'm not someone suspicious."**

And instantly, the look in the guard's eyes changed.

The suspicion that had been so apparent a moment ago vanished completely, replaced by confusion and a hint of embarrassment. He scratched the back of his head and spoke in a more apologetic tone, "Forgive me for questioning you out of the blue. Lately, we've been arresting all sorts of strange people, so we've been ordered to be more alert."

With that, the guard turned and walked back to his post, no longer paying attention to the man.

The golden-eyed man watched his back as it disappeared into the distance. Then he exhaled slowly and muttered to himself,

"I suppose I should leave this city soon."

Around him, people looked somber and uneasy. The man knew chaos was about to descend upon this city, and he had no intention of being part of it.

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On the main road leading to the Valderacht estate, the sound of hooves rumbled like a coming storm. The ground trembled, and dust swirled into the air. A silver-white carriage sped down the road, surrounded by a dozen fully armed knights. Their armor gleamed under the morning light, each bearing the insignia of a winged lion in pale crimson—the official symbol of the Royal Security Forces.

Without slowing, they headed straight for the front gates of the Valderacht estate.

The guards stationed there quickly moved into position, raising their spears and forming a blocking formation.

"Halt! This is Valderacht territory! No one enters without permission!"

But their warning was ignored.

One of the lead knights, riding at the front, raised his sword high into the air. The blade glowed with a blinding white light before he slashed it forward without uttering a word.

In an instant, a heavy wave of magic crashed toward the guards.

Sensing the immense power, the guards instinctively leapt to the sides. A heartbeat later, the estate's main gate exploded in a thunderous blast, sending shards of wood and metal flying in every direction.

Dust filled the air as the knights and the carriage entered the inner courtyard without resistance.

Shouts and orders echoed from every direction.

Within moments, the Valderacht's personal knights emerged from all corners of the grounds. Clad in black armor and draped in purple cloaks, they moved into formation, swiftly surrounding the intruders with disciplined precision. Dozens of spears and spells were aimed directly at the center of the courtyard.

The carriage came to a stop at the base of the main residence's entrance steps.

From the second-floor balcony, Axel Valderacht stood with one hand resting on the stone railing, his blue eyes narrowing. Beside him, Armand stood tall, his expression cold and gaze sharp.

It only took them a few seconds to recognize the insignias on the uniforms and the carriage.

"Royal Security Knights," Armand murmured. His voice carried a quiet menace. "They came without warning... and charged straight in."

"This isn't just an inspection," Axel said in a flat tone. "They're looking for an excuse to provoke us."

Moments later, the carriage door slowly opened.

Two men stepped out. Both wore pristine white uniforms with long cloaks and belts engraved with the royal emblem. Their appearance was tidy, their faces calm, but their eyes were sharp like freshly sharpened blades.

One of the white-clad men stepped forward and unrolled a royal decree, its wax seal still unbroken. He looked directly at the Valderacht manor and raised his voice so that everyone in the courtyard could hear.

"In the name of Queen Ashtoria and the highest laws of the Kingdom of Belmore, we hereby declare that House Valderacht is under active investigation for suspected involvement in the massacre of the Blackthorn family."

Murmurs spread among the knights and servants, but the man continued.

"Two days before Daxon and Darien Blackthorn were reported missing, records show they both visited this estate."

His gaze swept across the courtyard, pressing down like a weight, then he added in a cold voice,

"And after that... no one ever saw them again."

The words hung heavily in the air.

"Therefore, based on testimonies and evidence collected by the Council of Observers and the Royal Intelligence Division, we are ordered to escort the core members of House Valderacht to the capital for official questioning."

On the balcony, Axel showed no visible reaction. But his eyes sharpened, like a beast whose tail had just been stepped on.

Beside him, Armand clenched his fists, jaw tightening.

And on the ground below, the Valderacht knights shifted into defensive formation. Their spears rose, the tips of staves and enchanted gloves beginning to glow with elemental energy.

A few seconds of silence passed before Axel's voice rang out, loud and clear across the courtyard.

"Has the royal court fallen so low that it teaches its soldiers to break through a noble's gate without a single word of warning? Or perhaps... you never intended to come politely in the first place?"

His tone wasn't just angry—it was filled with contempt, exposing the hidden intentions behind the so-called mission.

The younger man in white remained composed. Ignoring the growing tension, he calmly rolled the scroll back up and replied with a voice that was cold and formal.

"We come with full authority from the capital. Refusal or delay in obeying the royal order will be considered an act of rebellion. We are merely carrying out our duties."

Axel chuckled softly, though there was no warmth in it. It was a bitter laugh, the kind that came after hearing a cruel joke.

"So that's how it is," he said with a sharp gaze, "legal nonsense wrapped in veiled threats. You think I'm foolish enough to surrender myself while this city is in chaos? While my family is being targeted by lies and filth?"

The older man in white, who had been standing silently behind his companion, finally stepped forward. His tone was rougher, more impatient.

"Answer clearly. Do you intend to defy royal law, Axel Valderacht?"

Axel didn't answer right away. He stared at the man in silence, then slowly pressed his lips together, holding back a bitter smile.

"I just want to know one thing... who sent you? Who's pulling the strings behind this pathetic performance?"

No answer came.

Only a glare, defiant and full of contempt.

One of the men hissed, "You arrogant traitor."

And in that very moment, Axel jumped from the balcony.

The ground shook as he landed. In a flash, his mana surged outward, cracking the courtyard stones and raising clouds of dust. The veins in his arms bulged, his eyes blazing like coals fed fresh air.

His hands shot out like lightning.

In a single motion, he grabbed both men by the face—one in each hand—and lifted them effortlessly into the air. Their legs kicked uselessly, trying to resist, but they couldn't break free.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Axel's voice was low and terrifying. "A scene. A riot. A reason to call us traitors."

His grip tightened.

"Then let me give you one."

Crack.

Crack.

Two sickening sounds rang out. Their skulls crushed in his grasp, bursting like overripe fruit. Blood and bone splattered into the air, painting the stones below in deep red.

Their corpses dropped limply to the ground.

At once, the knights in white screamed. "Traitor!" They raised their weapons, ready to attack.

But before they could even reach the center of the courtyard, the Valderacht formation was already moving.

A wave of slaughter began.

The Valderacht knights attacked with terrifying coordination and speed. Every strike was fatal—every spell aimed to kill in one blow. The skirmish ended as quickly as it began.

Short screams, then silence.

The white-clad bodies now lay motionless, soaked in blood. The air was heavy with the stench of death. Not a single one survived.

Armand descended calmly from the balcony, his steps slow, his gaze dark as he surveyed the aftermath. He stopped beside Axel and spoke in a flat voice.

"So we really did kill the royal envoys... Are you sure this was the right choice?"

Axel stared forward, blood still dripping from his hands.

"If we let them go, they would've returned to the capital and claimed we rejected the royal order. That would be all the justification the traitors needed to attack us openly."

He exhaled slowly, then looked up toward the morning sky that was slowly brightening.

"And now that we've killed them... the result won't be much different."

Armand clenched his fists and muttered under his breath,

"Let's hope Her Majesty reaches Belgrave in time to crush every last traitor... before they drag the entire kingdom into hell."

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Riven suddenly opened his eyes as the sound of knocking reached his ears.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three gentle, steady taps. Not rushed, not hesitant. As if someone knew exactly who was inside and wanted attention without being intrusive.

He rose slowly from bed. Outside, the moonlight was dim behind the clouds, casting a soft gloom through the small western window. Mira was still asleep beside him, her breathing calm, her face serene.

Riven moved quietly to avoid waking her. His body still felt light and warm, mana flowing steadily beneath his skin. He made his way to the door.

Knock. Knock.

The sound came again, slightly louder this time.

Riven opened the door slowly.