Chapter 2

“It’s time to head back.” The knight, who had stood by me watching as my mother took her last breath, grabbed my hand and began tugging me away forcefully.

“No, not yet!” I wanted to take her in and remember as much as I could, however horrible and gruesome the circumstances were. This was my last chance—I would never be able to lay eyes on her ever again. “Just a little longer!”

I wanted to at least wipe the tears from her eyes. But my desperate struggle was just another annoyance to the knight who, along with his comrades, was eager to dispose of the body as soon as he could. I resisted his efforts to pull me away. Irritated, he glared down at me, gripping my arm tighter. He was about to start yelling at me, so I quickly asked him, “What will happen to my mother?”

My question caused an odd look to appear on the knight’s face. His disconcerted expression gave me the impression that he had just remembered I was only seven years old. Unable to find the words, he stood there opening and closing his mouth soundlessly. How was he supposed to explain death to a child?

The knight stood frozen for a while longer, and when he finally spoke to me, his lips were stretched into an unpleasant smile, his eyes full of contempt. “Your mother is going to be punished now.”

Punished? Hadn’t she been punished enough being locked up in this tower for all these years?

I didn’t imagine that he might try to console me. To others, I wasn’t a seven-year-old, but the daughter of the woman they had despised, who had finally met her long-awaited demise.

The knight glanced behind him. A much larger piece of white cloth was now covering my mother’s body. There was a bit of a commotion as the knights attempted to move her elsewhere. When he looked back at me, the hatred and disgust in his eyes left over from looking at my mother were still present.

“Your mother did some terrible things. And now, she’ll go to hell and be punished for them.”

“Terrible things?”

“You heard me. So you better make sure to be a good little girl.”

It seemed as though he wanted to say more, but he instead turned his head away with a grunt. Or you’ll end up like your mother. Maybe that was what he wanted to say.

The knight resumed dragging me from the room. I couldn’t forget the contempt in his eyes as I stared at his back. I tried to keep up with how quickly he was moving even as I looked back. Past the steep stairs, I could see the narrow spire of the old tower, the whole structure varying shades of gray.

Her life was a living hell, and now they want her to burn there.

My mother had just been trying to protect herself, and they locked her up until the day she died. What did my mother do that was so wrong? What did I do that was so wrong?

The knight continued dragging me as he marched on. Since I was so underfed, I was much smaller than any other children my age. I felt people staring at me with hatred, criticizing me with their eyes. One thing was for sure—none of them felt at all sorry for the little girl who had just lost her mother. There was no sympathy in their gazes, and no one had any desire to console me. This was my reality.

The novel never elaborated on how the villainess and her daughter died. One sentence regarding their doom was all that was needed for the perfect happy ending. But then again… What if Eunice had never come between my mother and my father? What if she had never tried to steal a married man? What if she had fallen in love with a supporting character?

It’s often said that history is written by the victors. My mother had lost and was destined to be remembered forever as a villainess who ought to have been burnt at the stake. And I was to be an extra who would also meet a horrible death. I don’t want that. In the novel, my mother’s death had already been decided, and so had mine. According to the story, I would be surrounded and beaten to death tomorrow. Just because I am my mother’s daughter. It was ridiculous.

I lifted my head, but I couldn’t see anything but animosity in the many eyes that stared back. But I was just a child—a child who had just lost her mother.

I desperately struggled against the knight who was dragging me around, and in doing so lost my balance and fell to the ground. My fall caused a commotion, and I felt people staring at me again. A feeling of hopelessness burrowed underneath my skin, and unable to pull myself together, I lifted my head slowly to look around. I could not tell what any of the faces thought, impassive as they were.

The sky was clear, but somehow it felt gray and stormy. In this gray-washed world, all I could see were people who appeared to me as splashes of black. They were staring down at me with eyes that felt like blades, trying to slice me apart. They looked at me as if I was a monster. But to me, they were the real monsters.

* * *

“My word, Daphne!”

A kind voice in sharp contrast to the bleak situation rang out, and I turned to the sound of running footsteps approaching. It was her—the only woman who was kind to me in the orphanage. I searched through the dried-up husk that was my mind. I think her name was Yuriane. I called out to her.

“Yes, Daphne. Goodness me! How could you all just stand there and watch, when a child has fallen over!”

The knight next to me looked awkward in the face of her scolding. He glared at me from behind Yuriane as she hoisted me up. He was frowning, as if to say why do I have to endure a scolding when it’s your fault that you fell? I just turned away from him. I did not want to argue.

“Goodness me. Your knees are all scraped up.”

I stared at Yuriane, in a daze.

“We’d better head back and treat your wounds.” She must have meant that we should head back to the orphanage.

Hold on... I was being returned to the orphanage. Then how did I end up beaten to death in the novel? The description of my death had been a mere sentence. How was I going to die?

“My my, Daphne. Does it hurt a lot? Poor thing.”

Why did I die outside of the orphanage?

The voice that had been fussing over my wounds suddenly became quiet. Sensing a change, I lifted my head and saw Yuriane’s eyes twinkling. “Oh, yes, Daphne. I meant to tell you that there is someone you should meet before we head back.”

“Someone I should meet?” Smiling sweetly at my question, Yuriane nodded.

As if waiting for that precise moment, a large shadow appeared over us. I looked up slowly, feeling that something wasn’t right. Standing over me was a man with a large build, navy hair like the night sky, sharp eyes, and a lean jaw. His handsome features practically screamed that he was the main character of the story. And then there were his eyes—the twinkling golden eyes that I saw staring back at me in the mirror every day. My instincts shouted to me that this had to be my father.

I hung my head before our eyes could meet. My body shook, expecting his glare of displeasure to land on me. My mother had just passed away, and all I had left was my apathetic father. If he abandoned me, I would have no tomorrow. My hands grew sweaty from anxiety, and I wiped them on my ragged clothes.

“Who is this child?”

The knight looked unsure about how to answer the question. Yuriane did not miss her opportunity. She came to my side and answered happily, “This is your daughter, Your Grace.”

“My daughter?” He seemed astonished. The duke turned away from Yuriane and sought answers from the knight beside her.

I shrank at the sound of his irritated voice, and the knight answered after a moment’s hesitation, “She is Freyja’s daughter.”

“Ha.” As he let out a dumbfounded sigh, his annoyance was almost palpable. A cold frown was directed my way.

If I miss this opportunity, I will surely be dead by tomorrow. I don’t want to die. Unable to lift my head, I slowly reached out my trembling arm like a puppet and stretched out my hand. “F-Father,” I called out to him.

But he backed away as if he didn’t want my hand touching his clothes. He did not wait for me to finish speaking. “She is not mine.” His eyes left mine and took in my short, brittle hair. It was purple, a gift from my mother. Maybe it reminded him of her because his scowl deepened.

“She can’t be.” There was no hesitation in his response. “That woman hired men to harm Eunice. She had no money of her own. No doubt she gave herself away to one of them.”

No one said anything.

“She was vicious in an attempt to hold onto her power and position, not because she harbored any feelings of love. This is the most natural conclusion.”

The silence that followed when he was done speaking felt cruel.

“I will hear no one saying this child is mine. God knows what filth flows in her veins.”

At that moment, the knights descended the stairs behind us, carrying my mother’s body. The duke went to them without throwing me another glance. I heard the sound of fabric being lifted.

“Dead, for certain. Do what you will with the body.” Without any hesitation, the duke left. He had come only to confirm the death of the woman that was once his wife.

My mother had suffered a most miserable death—one that everyone celebrated.

* * *

I went back to the orphanage with my hand in Yuriane’s.

She remained silent the whole way, which was very unusual for her. Normally I would have felt awkward, but I was not in any mood to notice. As soon as she entered the orphanage, she glanced down at me, her eyes as cold as the duke’s.

“Yuriane?”

Her expression remained stone cold. She was no longer responsive to my small voice.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

Her kindness had vanished entirely. Only annoyance was left. She raked a hand through her hair roughly and glared down at me. “Here I was, holding on to you like you were a golden goose, when it turns out you’re worthless.” Contempt followed her irritation. “I thought I’d be able to work as the duke’s nanny.”

I finally understood why she had been so kind.

“Ugh, this is really getting to me. Now what do I do now?”

Her voice was tight with anger when I began to hear laughter nearby.