The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 291 Planting The Unwanted Spy

The campfire crackled softly, its warm light flickering against the dark silhouettes of the surrounding trees. The evening air carried a faint chill, but the camaraderie near the fire created a comfortable warmth. Estella stretched her arms above her head, her posture relaxed as her voice took on a teasing lilt.

"Look at you, Cerys," she said, her grin wide and playful. "Admit it, you're starting to enjoy your glow-up. Who knew the Lone Wolf had such refined tastes?"

Cerys, seated across from Estella, gave a small, almost imperceptible twitch of her lips—the closest she'd come to a smile all evening. Her green eyes caught the firelight as she responded in her usual blunt tone. "It's just cream. Stop making a fuss."

"Oh, come on," Estella pressed, leaning forward. "You look amazing. If I didn't know better, I'd say you might even like the attention."

Cerys's sharp glare was enough to make Estella laugh aloud, throwing her head back as the sound echoed through the clearing.

Lira, perched elegantly on a log, observed the exchange with a raised brow. "You're relentless, Estella. Let her have her peace." She adjusted the sleek black ponytail cascading over her shoulder, her composed demeanor unruffled despite the liveliness around her.

"Oh, Lira, you're no fun," Estella said, waving her hand dismissively. "But admit it, you're curious too. Imagine if we bottled this up and sold it back home. We'd make a fortune."

"Fortune or not," Vyrelda cut in, her tone clipped, "this frivolity is unbecoming. You're warriors, not merchants." Reclining against her pack, she closed her eyes, signaling the end of her contribution to the conversation. Yet even as she lay still, her hand brushed against her cheek, as though testing the faint softness left by the cream.

Estella smirked but let the remark slide. Instead, she leaned toward Lira, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I caught her using it earlier. Don't let her fool you."

Lira's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Perhaps this product has worked a different kind of magic."

The banter waned as the night deepened. Estella stretched again, her voice now tinged with sleepiness. "We should call it a night. Big day tomorrow."

Lira nodded in agreement. "The fire's dying down. Rest will serve us better than more chatter." She stood gracefully and began smoothing her clothes, preparing to retire.

Their makeshift campsite was enhanced by magical beds crafted from Silvarion Thalor's enchanted flora—a luxury Lira and Vyrelda had procured. The beds started as small, compact bundles of vines and petals but expanded when activated, transforming into soft, comfortable platforms that conformed perfectly to the sleeper's shape.

Cerys gave the clearing one last sweeping glance, her posture remaining vigilant despite the apparent safety.

"I'll keep watch."

"Of course you will," Estella muttered, already half-lying on her bed.

"Do you ever relax?"

"Not when there's work to do," Cerys replied curtly, though she eventually settled into her own bed, her ever-watchful gaze softening as sleep claimed her in increments.

The clearing grew quiet. The gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional crack of a dying ember were the only sounds as the camp sank into peaceful stillness. Estella's breaths became steady and even, Vyrelda remained motionless against her pack, and Lira's serene face was illuminated faintly by the dimming firelight.

Mikhailis sat apart from the group, his posture casual as he leaned back against a tree. His glasses reflected the embers' glow, obscuring the sharp intelligence flickering behind his gaze. The faint rise and fall of the others' breathing assured him that they were asleep. He waited a few minutes more, ensuring no one stirred, before pushing himself up with deliberate ease.

He stretched, exaggerating the motion, and glanced around to confirm the quiet.

"Just a quick walk," he murmured under his breath, as if explaining his departure to no one in particular.

The shadows beyond the campfire swallowed him as he moved toward the secluded clearing where the captured operative lay. His steps were light, barely disturbing the ground beneath him. The cool air brushed against his face, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and distant foliage.

Mikhailis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur.

"You narrowly escaped a mercenary ambush," he whispered, his words syncing with the Hypnoveil's output.

"Your comrades fell. You fled. No one else survived."

The operative's breathing steadied, their features twitching faintly as the false memories took root. Rodion's voice remained steady, guiding Mikhailis through each step.

Mikhailis adjusted the Hypnoveil's settings, layering subtle cues into the operative's subconscious. They would remain loyal to the Radiant Order, but buried within their loyalty was an unshakable compulsion to relay information to Mikhailis—a silent, invisible tether.

The Hypnoveil's glow dimmed as it completed its work. Mikhailis exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing.

"Done," he muttered. He leaned back, observing the operative as their breathing steadied, their expression peaceful.

"Good as new. Almost."

Rodion's analysis confirmed the success of the operation.

Mikhailis smirked. "Not bad. Let's see if they play their part."

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He stood, brushing off his hands as the Hypnoveil retracted its tendrils. The operative stirred faintly, their eyes fluttering open. Mikhailis crouched again, his voice calm and measured.

"You're safe," he said. "Rest. You'll need your strength."

The operative's gaze was unfocused, their mind grappling with the implanted memories. They nodded weakly, their movements slow and unsteady.

Mikhailis gestured to the chimera ants, who moved with practiced precision. They guided the operative to their feet, ensuring they remained upright.

"Take them back," Mikhailis instructed. "Make sure they get home in one piece."

The ants obeyed without hesitation, their movements swift and silent as they escorted the operative into the shadows. Mikhailis watched them disappear, his glasses glinting faintly in the moonlight.

One card played. Let's see how the deck unfolds.

He turned back toward the camp, his mind already racing with possibilities. The night was far from over, and the Radiant Order's secrets were just beginning to unravel.