The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 1267 - 194 - The Start Of Conflicts Of Interests (6)

Chapter 1267: Chapter 194 - The Start Of Conflicts Of Interests (6)

Myrcella’s POV

I was sitting beside my mother, close enough to hear the faint tremor in her breathing, close enough to feel the heaviness pressing down on her shoulders like an invisible weight. Her head was lowered, fingers dug into her temples as if she were physically holding herself together. It wasn’t a graceful pose. It wasn’t dignified. It was the posture of someone who had been fighting too long without rest and had finally felt the first real crack in her armor.

She looked depressed.

No—that word didn’t even begin to cover it.

She looked like a general who had mapped out a flawless campaign only to watch every carefully placed piece fall off the board at once. Like someone who had spent years building a palace out of stone, only to realize the foundation had been sand all along. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Her breathing was uneven. The silence around us felt thick and suffocating, like even the air didn’t dare move.

"He’s right... I’m not cut out for this," she muttered.

It wasn’t meant for me. It was the kind of confession someone lets slip when they think they’re alone. But I heard it clearly. Every word.

For a second, I just stared at her.

He’s right?

Who?

What had been said to her that could break her this much?

Before I could ask, there was a knock at the door.

I instinctively turned, expecting Leon.

But when the door opened, it wasn’t him.

It was the Commander.

She stepped in with her usual composure, though there was something tighter in her expression today.

"It seems the Prince is now part of the Argus Faction," she said.

That fast?

It hadn’t even been a full day.

Julius had moved quickly, faster than I’d expected. And not just anywhere. The Argus family. One of the administrative pillars of the academy. A family that wasn’t supposed to move without reason.

Was this coincidence?

I didn’t believe in coincidence. Not at this level.

Or was it planned?

The thought slithered into my mind and stayed there. Why would one of the administration’s core families involve themselves in something like this unless they had already chosen a side long ago?

It felt like threads were being pulled behind curtains I couldn’t see through.

"Why does everything go wrong...?" my mother whispered again, her voice cracking. "I thought... I really thought I would be able to..."

Her hands moved from her temples into her hair, fingers tangling, pulling harder and harder. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t graceful. It was desperation. If stress could make sound, it would’ve been the sharp snap of hair being torn from its roots.

She was unraveling.

Her words dissolved into fragmented murmurs. They were only half sentences, unfinished thoughts, broken hopes spilling out without direction. I couldn’t even piece them together anymore.

She couldn’t lead like this.

Not right now.

The castle was already surrounded politically. Factions forming, alliances shifting, whispers turning into daggers behind smiles. We weren’t just under pressure, we were being squeezed from all sides.

And someone had to stand up.

Someone had to take the reins before the carriage tipped over completely.

I stood up slowly, feeling something steady settle in my chest. It wasn’t confidence exactly. It was resolve. The kind that forms when you realize you don’t actually have another choice.

"Commander," I said, keeping my voice level, firm without being sharp, "will I have your cooperation?"

She looked at me.

Really looked at me.

For a moment, I saw the hesitation. Not disrespect but just calculation. Weighing whether I was capable. Whether I was bluffing.

Then she bowed her head.

It wasn’t exaggerated. It wasn’t theatrical.

But it was real.

"Yes, My Queen."

The words landed heavier than I expected.

My Queen.

It was the first time she had addressed me that way. The first time it didn’t feel like I was standing behind my mother’s shadow.

The weight of authority settled onto my shoulders. Not crushing, but undeniable. It flowed through me like cold water at first, then slowly warming into something steady.

Power wasn’t loud. It wasn’t flashy.

It was quiet.

And it was terrifying.

"Well then," I said, allowing myself the faintest smile, "I suppose it’s time to play chess."

Because that’s what this was now.

Everyone had their own board. Their own pieces. Their own hidden moves.

And if they thought I would sit quietly and watch my side collapse, they were about to be disappointed.

***

Gaspard’s POV

The Prince now stood within the faction I had created.

Even now, that fact felt surreal.

This faction wasn’t born out of ambition alone but it was born out of necessity. The kingdom’s current order had rotted from within. The administration clung to power under the guise of stability, but stability without fairness was just control with better branding.

We intended to change that.

No, overthrow it.

The current government would fall, and in its place would rise something stronger. Something that actually deserved to exist.

Ironically, the ones who were meant to stand at the center of this shift were members of the Queen’s own faction as well as the Commander and the Vice Commander. The pieces were already there. They just needed to be rearranged.

And the one who had quietly gathered us together... was a person that I have known for a bit.

Moriarty.

Even thinking about him felt like trying to grasp smoke. At present, he was searching for someone said to be our ally.

The Prince stood a few steps away from me, staring into the small flame dancing in his palm.

The fire reflected in his eyes, turning them almost feral.

He looked unhinged.

He was like a man holding a match in a room full of oil, trying very hard not to smile too widely.

"Your Highness," I said carefully, because speaking to a man playing with fire required a certain tone, "I’ve mentioned this before. Please refrain from using your flames indoors. This is the only place safe from the Queen’s reach. If you’d prefer not to be discovered, perhaps don’t light up the room like a festival lantern."

He didn’t even look at me at first.

"Relax," he said casually, rolling the flame between his fingers as if it were a coin. "I’m not careless enough to burn down someone else’s place."

The fire flickered higher for a moment, casting sharp shadows against the walls.

"I’m saving this," he continued, finally glancing at me, "for the person who made my life miserable."

There was no humor in his voice.

"I’ll wring the hell out of her neck," he said, almost conversationally, "and burn her current lover with my own hands. She’ll cry while I char him alive with my flames. And after that..."

He licked his lips slowly.

"I’ll take what I’ve always wanted."

There it was.

This person have a high obsession.

It curled around his words like smoke.

Part of me wanted to tell him to tone it down. Another part of me thought it might actually be useful.

Because truthfully, we weren’t the only ones plotting.

Other factions had begun forming quietly in response to the kingdom’s imbalance. Power attracts challengers. Weakness invites predators.

And right now, everyone smelled blood.

We were being targeted as well.

It was almost impressive, in a way. The entire kingdom had turned into a grand strategy game. Everyone pretending to smile while calculating which piece to sacrifice next.

Chess.

Yes.

Everyone was playing chess.

And the board was getting crowded.

It wouldn’t be long before the first major clash happened. Before alliances were tested. Before someone miscalculated.

When that moment came, it wouldn’t be subtle.

It would be explosive.

And when the pieces finally collided, someone would fall.

The only question was—

Who.