It didn’t take long for to dispose of the ten n who had co hunting for the lone girl from my town. Their bodies lay sprawled across the ground, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, their faces frozen in expressions of pain and shock. Blood splattered the walls and seeped into the dirt, the scent of iron thick in the air.
In the farthest corner of the dimly lit alley, the girl huddled, trembling, her arms wrapped around herself as if she could disappear into the shadows. Her ragged breaths ca in short gasps, her wide, fear-stricken eyes darting between and the carnage I had left in my wake.
"Please co out here, Miss," I said, keeping my voice even, though my presence alone made her flinch. She recoiled as if expecting a strike, pressing herself further against the wall.
I exhaled quietly, tilting my head. "I thought you were stronger than that, Miss. You’ve survived for so long—there’s no need to fear the one person who can actually protect you from now on."
At my words, her shivering worsened, and she shrank back.
"Y-You... you know who I am?" Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
I smiled, slow and deliberate. "You’re standing in my town, Miss. I don’t let just anyone in here."
As soon as I spoke those words, a notification appeared before my eyes, lines of text glowing against the dark backdrop of my vision.
[Congratulations.
You have successfully established contact with the last hidden candidate who is being considered for the position of the monarch.]
[Princess Alys Scarlet Ferin Marismus.]
So ti later, we sat inside a quiet restaurant, the girl fidgeting in her seat, her gaze flickering restlessly around the empty space. I had cleared the area beforehand, leaving only Lyall, her, and within the silent walls.
She kept glancing toward the exit as though she was planning to bolt at the first opportunity.
I slid a glass of water across the table toward her.
She hesitated, staring first at the water, then at , suspicion evident in her sharp red eyes.
"Don’t worry," I said, my tone calm but firm. "I have no intention of harming you."
She hesitated a mont longer before finally picking up the glass. Lifting it cautiously to her lips, she took a small sip—then, after a beat of silence, gulped down a mouthful.
"Are you hungry?" I asked.
She gave a small nod, her fingers tightening around the glass as though she wasn’t sure if she should admit it.
"Bring her sothing to eat," I instructed Lyall, who nodded before leaving.
As he disappeared, I noticed her hands subtly tugging the coat I had draped over her shoulders, pulling it closer to her frail fra as if seeking comfort in its warmth.
Then, she turned her gaze back to . Those red pupils, flickering with a wary but unwavering intensity, locked onto mine.
"How long have you been running like this?" I asked, my voice softer now.
She blinked, as if caught off guard by the question, then dropped her gaze to the table.
"I... I don’t rember," she murmured. "It’s been a long ti."
"Did you co here on purpose, or did soone send you?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
"Who?"
For a mont, she was silent. Then, her lips parted, and she whispered, "It was a child."
I raised an eyebrow. "A child?"
She nodded again. "I don’t know who he was, but he saved when I was being attacked. He told that if I kept running like this, I’d end up dead. Then he said... the only place I would be safe was here. Oasis."
My fingers tapped against the wooden table. "How did the child look?"
She shook her head. "I don’t know. He had his hood drawn low over his face... but he looked around ten years old."
I stilled. A mory stirred within —of a child who had once saved when I had been on the brink of losing myself to the demon.
"Could it really be him?" I thought.
My Patrons remained silent.
A mont later, Lyall returned, setting down a steaming bowl of soup and a plate of bread before the girl. She hesitated only for a second before reaching out, her fingers shaking slightly as she grasped the spoon.
As she ate, I observed her more closely.
The girl before was far from ordinary. She was capable of shifting the entire kingdom’s power with her re existence. No wonder she had been hunted. No wonder she had been marked for death. She was the reason Viscount Jordan had been executed.
A strand of blonde hair slipped from her ssy braid, falling against her pale, gaunt face, but she paid it no mind as she focused on her al. The lack of proper nutrition was evident in the hollowness of her cheeks, in the frailness of her bony arms.
Her very existence had been wiped from history.
Alys Scarlet Ferin Marismus. The hidden daughter of the previous Crown Prince, Soros.
No one knew she had survived. Not even I.
When Katherine—the Golden Serpent—had killed the previous King and Crown Prince, she had also attempted to kill Alys, who had been only ten years old at the ti. But what Katherine had not known was that Roger himself had allowed Alys to escape.
And so, she had been on the run ever since.
Until Viscount Jordan uncovered her existence and let slip that knowledge to the Queen.
And Katherine, ever the venomous viper, had moved swiftly to eliminate her once again.
It was no wonder the King had executed Jordan.
Roger had once loved his family—before Katherine entered his life and corrupted everything.
Now, the Queen was likely scouring every corner of the kingdom, desperate to find Alys and erase her before anyone else discovered the truth.
Alys had the first rightful claim to the throne.
The history of this kingdom was twisted beyond belief.
Yet, looking at the woman in front of , I doubted she had ever had the ti to acknowledge herself as the Princess she truly was.
She looked like she was in her early twenties, yet the wear of years spent in hiding had made her appear even more fragile than she should have been. Bruises and cuts marred her skin, evidence of the countless struggles she had endured.
A woman who had been born to rule—reduced to nothing more than a fugitive.
Fate truly had a cruel sense of humor.
Alys wiped her mouth with the tattered sleeve of her dress, her movents slow and fatigued, as if every action cost her effort. The fabric, once fine but now threadbare, bore the stains of travel and hardship. She glanced up at hesitantly, her red eyes wary yet laced with sothing close to relief.
"Would you like to stay here?" I asked.
Her fingers clenched slightly around the edge of the wooden table, as if she needed sothing solid to ground her. For a mont, she simply stared, the weight of my offer pressing down on her. Then, with a slow, cautious nod, she gave her answer.
"I will ensure your safety," I continued, my voice steady. "And I will make sure that no one knows where you are."
She blinked, her brows drawing together as uncertainty flickered across her face. "But... they will keep coming..."
"I know," I acknowledged, my gaze unwavering. "That’s why I will arrange for you to stay in a place where they won’t be able to reach you."
Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue, to question the possibility of such a safe haven. Instead, she hesitated. "Is... Is there really a place like that?"
I smiled—a slow, knowing curve of my lips. "Yes, there is."
She looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected such certainty. But I had already made my decision.
When we arrived at Ryujin, she stood frozen at the entrance, her posture tense, her fingers curling against the sleeves of her dress. Her red eyes widened as they took in the sight before her.
The grand house lood under the moonlight, its elegant architecture illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. It was not rely a residence; it was a stronghold, a place of power and refuge. The vast courtyard stretched before her, lined with carefully pruned trees and a stone path that led to the massive doors.
But what shocked her more than the grandeur was the way the servants moved. They did not avert their eyes from her, nor did they cast her sidelong glances of suspicion or disgust. They did not whisper behind their hands or step away from her in disdain.
Instead, they carried out their duties with quiet efficiency, acknowledging her presence with respectful nods but no judgnt.
I saw the disbelief flicker across her face, the way her fingers twitched as if she expected sothing cruel—so insult, so rejection. But none ca.
"Get her cleaned up and dress her," I instructed, my voice firm yet not unkind.
One of the maids bowed in understanding before stepping forward, her expression neutral yet attentive as she turned to Alys.
Alys, however, didn’t follow imdiately. Instead, she looked at again, her gaze searching for sothing—assurance, perhaps.
"Don’t worry," I said, my tone softer now. "Tomorrow, I will take you to a place where you will et soone who is like family to you."
At those words, she flinched, her body stiffening as though the very idea of ’family’ was sothing foreign—sothing painful.
I reached out, placing a steady hand on her shoulder, feeling the thinness of her fra beneath the layers of fabric.
"Don’t be scared," I murmured. "No one will lay a hand on you now."
She inhaled sharply, as if those words had broken through sothing inside her, and slowly, she exhaled, so of the rigid tension leaving her shoulders. Then, with silent hesitation, she turned and followed the maid into the house.
I watched until she disappeared into the corridors before I turned on my heel and made my way to my office.
The room was dimly lit by the flickering glow of lanterns, their golden light casting elongated shadows across the polished wood of the desk. I pulled out a sheet of parchnt, the familiar weight of the quill settling in my hand as I began to write.
My strokes were swift, precise, every word carrying urgency.
Once finished, I rolled the parchnt and tied it securely with a thin cord. I strode toward the open window, where a raven perched on the iron railing, its beady black eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Tying the letter to its leg, I ran a finger down its sleek feathers before whispering, "Go."
The bird let out a sharp caw before spreading its wings, disappearing into the night sky.
I watched it vanish into the abyss above.
I had sent word ahead.
The person who needed to see Alys had to be prepared.
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