Chapter 511

Judy wasn’t foolish. She knew why Shermaine and Joshua had come to Summerbank: rescue Dave, steal the city defense map, and destroy Apocalypse.

After the humiliating defeat in Baykeep, Judy was determined to crush them here.

Yet, despite Summerbank’s heavy security, unease gnawed at her. A week passed, and there was no sign of Shermaine or Joshua, as if they had vanished. But Judy was sure that they had left Baykeep for Summerbank.

However, not even the city’s surveillance cameras picked up anything suspicious. Judy couldn’t figure out where they might be hiding. With their mastery of disguise, finding them in the city was impossible.

Two weeks went by, Judy’s patience frayed into frustration. She summoned her most trusted advisors again.

In a luxurious mansion, the third-floor bedroom reeked of alcohol and indulgence.

A maid, strikingly beautiful in her uniform, entered. She called toward the veiled canopy bed, “Madam, time to rise.”

“Anything important?” A woman’s voice sounded, thick with sleep.

The maid replied, “Princess Judy summons you.”

The woman stirred slightly, as if waking from a drunken haze. “Mm.”

Moments later, several disheveled men and women slipped out of the oversized bed, shooting the maid flirtatious glances as they left.

The maid remained impassive.

Finally, the woman emerged—black silk robe, tousled hair, rubbing her temples against the aftermath of wine and revelry.

In the Kingdom of Xyperia, power belonged to those who seized it, regardless of gender.

Ivy Mackay was formidable, a high-ranking official trusted by Judy to oversee Summerbank’s finances. She was beautiful, skilled, and notoriously promiscuous. Those men and women who had just left her bed were merely some of her lovers.

“Dress me,” Ivy commanded, stretching her arms lazily.

“Yes, Madam.” The maid stepped forward, carefully removing Ivy’s robe and dressing her.

Just then, Ivy’s gaze sharpened, studying the maid closely.

This maid’s face was plain, but her skin was tender, her figure curvaceous beneath the uniform. A subtle, intoxicating scent clung to her, something Ivy couldn’t place.

“I don’t recognize you,” Ivy murmured.

The maid replied, “I’m new here.”

“Since when?”

“A week ago.”

Ivy suddenly seized the maid’s hand. “Your hands are so soft.”

The maid, Shermaine in disguise, paused. She had been prepared for suspicion, not flirtation, but she quickly regained her composure.

Ivy leaned in, inhaling deeply. “You smell divine. What perfume do you wear?”

Shermaine was only used to Joshua being near her like that. She instinctively recoiled. “None.”

“I like it,” Ivy chuckled.

Still composed, Shermaine didn’t react at all to Ivy’s words.

Ivy’s fingers trailed down Shermaine’s back and found the zipper of her dress. She pulled it down slightly. A second later, Ivy’s demeanor flipped like a switch. A blade flashed, pressing against Shermaine’s throat. “Who sent you?”