* * *

The House of Heylon, one of the most distinguished noble houses, had guarded the northern borders for much of the kingdom’s history. As the lord of the castle, Duke Abel Heylon led from the frontline of the war against demonic beasts. A force to be reckoned with, he held the reputation of being harsh and merciless—or so I had written.

And now, I was at the hands of that said merciless duke. Shunned by my own family, I had nowhere else to turn.

“Talk about digging your own grave,” I muttered under my breath.

Arriving at the estate, I began walking toward the duke’s imposing home. The castle loomed over me oppressively, its spires reaching toward the sky and its walls as hardy as the nearby mountain range. One could almost say it looked like a castle from fairytale stories, a castle where the demon king would live.

I sighed. “Ugh, my life...”

I could already sense the hardships awaiting me within these castle walls. The people that lived here probably weren’t the type to give their workers any breaks. Or perhaps they would cast me out, saying they had no need for a child to work here.

I had given Duke Abel Heylon quite an important role in the story as the male lead’s main ally. As a dashing man who helped the protagonist at all the right moments, he was fairly popular among the readers. The main storyline would take place six years from now, with Abel being in his late thirties at the beginning of the novel—meaning he was currently in his early thirties.

Man, he’s still young.

He had been kind to the characters in my story, but there was a slight problem. Abel’s hospitality was strictly limited to the protagonists and their party. Normally, he was a huge jerk, especially when he was younger—like right now. Would Fiona, the villain-to-be, be able to withstand the young duke’s rampage?

The knight who had guided me into the castle suddenly halted. “This way,” he said, prompting me to snap out of my thoughts. He had led me to the reception room to meet the duke.

I was awestruck by the entrance alone. The door was huge.

“Open the door,” ordered the knight, and the two soldiers standing guard pushed against its hinges.

I watched it open with a heavy creak, blinking as the knights steadily revealed the space hidden inside. The room itself was made of carved stone, cold and unwelcoming. The duke was waiting for me on a huge chair in the very middle of the room. With hair silver like snow and icy blue eyes, he was handsome in an unforgiving way. He looked more like an intelligent advisor who worked behind the scenes than a powerful warrior. However, his overpowering charisma as the ruler of the harsh north was undeniable.

I gulped nervously.

Sat in front of me was Duke Abel Heylon, the one and only future mentor of Siegren, the hero of the novel.

Abel met my eyes with a grimace.

“I thought I had asked for a new mage,” he said harshly. The sound of his voice raised goosebumps on my arms. “What is this scrawny brat doing here?”

Looks like my life here will be just as delightful as it was back home.

* * *

“My name is Fiona Green, sir,” I said, speaking respectfully despite the duke’s cold demeanor.

A heavy frown still gracing his face, Abel turned to his advisor. “Jeron, what is going on?”

His advisor was a young man in his mid-twenties, who, at the moment, seemed quite flustered as he glanced at me and turned back to his liege.

“Count Green assured us the mage he sent was one of his direct blood relatives...” said Jeron cautiously.

He wasn’t wrong. I was indeed Count Green’s direct blood relative—though a bastard daughter—and I had the ability to use magic as well.

Abel gritted his teeth. “Are you telling me that Count Green has sent a child?” Shooting up suddenly, his thick cape billowed behind him. He turned toward me, his gaze as icy as winter itself. “So he sees us as a joke. Once this damned war is over, I will be taking the Greens down first.”

Oh, Father... You’re screwed. The greatest duke of the north blazed with quiet fury.

To be honest, I didn’t care too much about the future of my family. I was more concerned over my own fate because I was the one actually in front of Abel—who seemed to be on the verge of explosion. Please, please stop glaring at me...

Click, clack.

Slowly, he approached. Never once fed properly in my life, I was scrawny and much smaller than most children my age. Abel, on the other hand, was massive, and I had to crane my neck to look up at him.

“Look here kid,” he said.

Well, I guess he didn’t get my name the first time...

“Why don’t you explain why Count Green would send a child like you? Is your house so desperately out of talent?” he asked.

I decided to reply honestly to his question and expose my family members. I held no loyalty to those who had betrayed me.

“Caindel, the eldest, needs to inherit the family name, and Jane, the second eldest, is about to be married. Even Zen, the third eldest, is to be engaged,” I explained, feeling like a little kid tattling on the others. “So… that left me, the youngest.”

“Hah,” Abel scoffed, clicking his tongue. He looked down at me arrogantly. “I see that war is just a joke to your family… Anyway, I now have a general understanding of what happened. Although you probably didn’t come here light-heartedly, you can go back home.” His voice lowered. “We don’t need a child like you here.”

I had been here less than five minutes, and I was already being booted. Without waiting for a response, Abel turned around and ordered me out. I guess he didn’t want to waste his time on a useless kid. But for some reason, his stone-hearted response made me more determined to stay.

Unlike Abel, I had nowhere else to go. Where could I go? Back to the Green family who sent me off to war in the first place? I didn’t want to return to being locked in a drafty, old attic and surviving on meals that consisted of leftovers. Even if I went back, my family would find some other excuse to throw me out.

In the novel, young Fiona, who had yet to find her talent, had been cast out into the streets. While she eventually found her place, the painful memories of being shunned by the world only pushed her further into villainy.

She later clawed her way up to a better social standing once she discovered her magic. I, on the other hand, already knew of Fiona’s great power. Talented mages were treated well in this world. It would be far wiser to prove myself here early on rather than risk my life in the streets.

The war would quiet down once the male lead showed up anyway. So I could hold on until then and save up for a peaceful, rustic life. That might be the best way to avoid my dreadful fate. To do that, I first needed to get Abel’s permission to stay here as a mage. Then, I would do my best to stay on his good side until the protagonist appeared.

After quickly running through various situations in my head, I ran after the duke.

“Wait, Your Grace, I have something to say,” I called out.

Abel stopped and glanced down at me. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid I cannot follow your orders,” I replied.

Abel frowned. Had I been a normal thirteen-year-old girl, I might have burst out in tears from his expression alone. “What?”

I looked up at him boldly. “I will not go back. But I will not throw a tantrum either. I just want you to give me a chance.”

Abel’s eyes glinted momentarily. “What kind of chance are you talking about?”

“A chance to prove myself,” I replied.

Abel looked at me curiously, amused that a small child dared to talk so boldly.

“What would a brat like you do? Housework? Unfortunately, I already have many skilled servants in this castle. If that’s not what you’re talking about, I wonder what you have in mind,” he said firmly as if wanting to intimidate me.

But I knew what I had to say. I knew exactly how to deal with Abel. I couldn’t be insolent, but I couldn’t grovel either. I simply had to stand my ground.

Clenching my fists, I said, “Let me join one battle as a mage. I will show you that I can be of great help fighting this war.”