The Dark Fairy King
Chapter 79: Practice Makes Perfect

Chapter 79: Practice Makes Perfect

The next day, I didn’t want to speak to Doverel.

How could I? Definitely not after what I had witnessed. Not after seeing how shallow she’d become.

She flitted about with a posse of fairies, her laughter and exaggerated smiles echoing across the courtyard. "No... anyone can do it too!" she chirped, flashing a smile that felt more rehearsed than genuine. Was popularity all that mattered to her now? Was she really that brainwashed?

This was Doverel—the same fairy who once mixed light magic with love spells, the one who had excitedly told me that love magic was like glue, something that could bind the soul. I saw potential in her, once. I thought she might be different. But now? She wasn’t. She had chosen conformity. She had become just like the rest.

I was disappointed. In her. In Arisa. In all of them.

But maybe this was for the best.

With both of them too busy wrangling couples together with their frivolous spells and grinning for attention, at least they’d leave me alone. Doverel didn’t miss talking to me. Not with her fans lifting her higher with every meaningless number.

And maybe that was what I needed—no distractions. Just focus.

I couldn’t afford to stay weak.

Power didn’t come to those who waited. It came to those who burned for it. Those who gritted their teeth and kept pushing, no matter the odds.

Rage — at myself for not saving Edna, at my own kind for betraying everything we stood for, at the centuries lost to silence.

Rage at this ridiculous new generation of Love Fairies who thought their duty ended with a matchmaking score.

I would make my voice matter again. No one would dare ignore me next time.

I closed my eyes and summoned the red mist again, feeling the familiar warmth curl through my palms. The orb of magic formed slowly at first, a fragile wisp of smoke and ember. Sweat beaded on my forehead, dripped down my neck, as I willed the orb larger, steadier.

It pulsed with raw power, alive in my hands like a heartbeat.

My muscles burned with the strain of control, but I clenched my jaw and pushed harder, not letting it slip.

Each breath was a fight — between exhaustion and determination, doubt and will.

This was no game. This was survival.

I imagined Edna’s reckless charge as fuel, turning my frustration into fire.

The orb finally steadied, glowing bright enough to cast shadows on the cracked earth beneath me.

For a moment, I allowed myself a fleeting smile. I was growing stronger.

I glanced toward the courtyard, where Doverel laughed and danced among her fans. A pang twisted inside me — a sharp mix of bitterness and longing.

I missed the way things had been before—before the Kingdom’s suffocating rules, before popularity became a currency and friendship a gamble.

Was it foolish to want something real? Someone who saw the truth and wasn’t afraid to stand with me?

I shook off the thought, scolding myself. No. I couldn’t rely on anyone. Not anymore.

But still, a quiet ache whispered beneath my resolve, a hollow space Doverel had once filled.

By now, that same Dark Fairy still sat watching me from afar.

He never spoke. Just perched like a raven on the twisted branches of a poison apple tree, his presence as constant as dusk.

Curly black hair. Pale skin. Grey eyes that seemed to burn right through me, even from a distance.

We hadn’t exchanged a word. Maybe we never would. For a Dark Fairy, he had an unsettling allure. But it didn’t mean anything.

I wasn’t drawn to him—not in the way you might think. No. It was more like he was an enigma, something I couldn’t ignore, even if I tried.

Sometimes, I imagined him as a twisted guardian angel—one I couldn’t approach without risking everything. His kind were killers, after all.

Still, something about him felt different. Too calm. Too still. He wasn’t like the others.

Nothing like the Dark Fairy who killed Edna.

But what did he think of me? Did he see me as a threat, or just some curiosity worth observing?

His gaze had become part of my ritual. A silent, unspoken presence, like a distant star—too far to reach, too bright to ignore.

Too close, and I might burn.

Too far, and I might forget he was even there.

But I wasn’t fooling myself anymore. He was part of this now. Part of the rhythm I had come to rely on. A reminder of the power I was learning to wield.

More than that, he was a symbol. A symbol of what I was claiming.

No longer bound by old titles. Not by crumbling systems or empty rituals.

We are what we choose to become.

And I was choosing strength.

I was ready.

His piercing grey eyes flickered — almost imperceptibly — a twitch at the corner of his lips.

Was that a smile?

A tilt of his head, just so, like a predator intrigued rather than bored.

I felt a shiver crawl down my spine.

Whatever game he played, I was no longer just a curiosity.

We were on a collision course.

But nothing could’ve prepared me for Arisa’s nagging when I returned.

"Scarlette, enjoying an extended vacation, are we? Why haven’t you reported making a single couple?" she barked, her voice grating against my nerves.

I rolled my eyes. "I didn’t report because I didn’t make a single couple."

It was plain. Honest. Brutal. And it shut her up.

Her face twisted in fury. "You’ll answer to the King if you don’t show progress," she snapped, storming off before I could say another word.

As if I cared.

She hadn’t even blinked when Edna died. How could someone so high up in our system act like everything was fine?

Her threats meant nothing now.

If anything, they just sharpened my resolve. She had no idea what I was preparing for. None of them did.

They obsessed over numbers—over keeping the kingdom’s polished illusion intact—but I wasn’t playing their game anymore.

Let the King wait.

The real battle was coming. And when it did—I’d be ready.

If they thought I would bend, they were gravely mistaken.