Damian Ravenhurt knew he belonged to the elite of his country. He was the eldest son of one of the greatest families in the empire and knew that one day he would become Duke.
Women swarmed around him like bees in a field of flowers, and yet… the only woman he desired was forever out of reach.
He knew he was insane to be so obsessed with his own sister. When they were children, playing together without a care in the world, he had truly believed their relationship was nothing more than that of a normal brother and sister.
But one day, everything changed.
As time passed, his sister grew more magnificent with each passing year—and he, more than anyone, noticed.
The day he discovered that a loose tile in his bathroom offered a forbidden view into hers was the point of no return.
He despised himself for the thoughts that followed. He had read holy scriptures countless times, prayed, begged God to free him from his impure desires. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he always fell back into them.
That morning, he sat in the breakfast room, waiting for Selen to join the family.
He knew she had been slightly unwell these past few days. Having received detailed reports from the maids about her condition, he was certain it was nothing serious—just a touch of melancholy.
“You. Go see whether Selen intends to join us,” he ordered a maid who had just placed a plate of eggs and bacon before him.
The servant bowed and hurried away.
At that moment, the duchess entered and seated herself across from him.
“Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning, Damian,” she replied without lifting her eyes from her plate.
He hated that rigid mask she always wore. Her only daughter had been unwell for days, and she had not paid her a single visit.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, Mother, but Selen hasn’t been feeling well lately.”
The duchess delicately finished her bite before dabbing the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief.
“I am aware. It is likely due to the continued postponement of her betrothal. I will speak to the Duke about it when he returns from the palace today.”
Damian clenched his jaw.
He hated the very thought of that betrothal. His precious Selen promised to the Crown Prince.
The prince was one of the few men in the empire who held more power than he did—and he knew that the Crown Prince had taken a particular interest in Selen.
The only reason the engagement had yet to be finalized was the Empress, who refused to accept Selen as her future daughter-in-law. Everyone in the empire knew that the Empress and Duchess Ravenhurt were not on good terms.
Damian reached for his glass of water when the maid returned, tears streaming down her face.
She fell to her knees before the duchess.
"Forgive me, Madam. I swear I knew nothing. I went to check on Lady Selen’s room… it was empty. The bed was exactly as I had left it yesterday.”
The glass slipped from Damian’s hand and shattered against the floor.
“What are you saying?” he demanded, rising abruptly.
“Did you check the other rooms?” the duchess asked calmly. “I heard she has been bathing elsewhere lately. Perhaps she simply wished for a change.”
Trembling, the maid pulled a letter from her uniform pocket and handed it to the duchess.
Damian stood behind his mother. He had not even finished reading the first paragraph before he stormed upstairs.
Selen’s room was untouched. Her dresses were still there. Her jewelry. Everything.
Everything except her.
A storm of thoughts raged in his mind.
Had she truly fled? Had someone forced her? Who was the bastard she claimed to love?
The Selen he knew had always been distant. The idea that another man could have stirred her heart—while he begged for mere crumbs of brotherly affection—ignited a fury so violent he nearly lost control.
He rushed back downstairs, ready to return to the capital and hunt down the man who had taken her.
He would kill him with his own hands.
But before he could cross the mansion’s doors, guards surrounded him and seized his sword.
The duchess stepped forward and struck him sharply across the face.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she said coldly. “Do you intend to announce to the entire capital that your beloved sister ran away with a beggar?”
She inhaled slowly.
“Take him to his room. He is not to leave until tomorrow.”
Selen knew her time was running short.
Alchemy consumed enormous energy. Even the greatest mages could not maintain another person’s form for more than twenty-four hours.
Fortunately, their journey was nearly over.
Before entering the duchy’s main territory, a delegation was supposed to meet them.
She intended to act during the pause.
Her plan was simple: kill everyone in both carriages and make it appear as an attack by heretics.
When the convoy stopped, she waited until the soldiers dismounted.
“Here. Your ration for the day,” one of them said, handing her a small bag of food.
“Thank you,” she replied.
A blade of condensed magic materialized behind him and pierced him.
Another knight stumbled backward in horror. She cut him down without hesitation.
One by one, they fell.
When she finished, she returned to her original form and she ruffled her now black hair that she had taken care to dye well. Two-toned hair was far too distinctive.
She inflicted shallow wounds upon herself, tore her uniform, and smeared blood across her skin before collapsing to the ground.
Just as the delegation arrived.
Everything had gone perfectly—
Until she saw a man fleeing from the second carriage into the forest.
Her heart skipped.
She had missed one.
It was too late. The riders were already approaching.
Idiot, she scolded herself inwardly.
She had failed to check carefully.
Now there was a witness somewhere in the forest.
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