ANCPE 03

Chapter 03

Rachel had no way of knowing how he had found the runaway maid—or why he had come for her.

*How on earth did he even know I was here?*

Her fists were clenched so tightly that each knuckle had turned stark white.

“How long are you going to just stand there? Let’s go inside.”

Ian brushed past the motionless Rachel and stepped into the yard of her house as he spoke.

His steps were natural, as if it were his own home. Without the slightest hesitation, he crossed the yard and grabbed the front door handle.

Though Rachel had locked it firmly, the handle broke apart uselessly in Ian’s grip.

He glanced at the broken handle as if displeased, then kicked the door open.

With a single strike, the front door gave way easily. After forcing it open, Ian looked back at Rachel.

His gaze clearly asked why she wasn’t coming in, and Rachel hurried after him.

She wanted to turn and run immediately, but there was no way she could escape someone who had tracked her down all the way here.

Even if he had come to kill her, she had no choice but to follow him.

Running wouldn’t save her life anyway—turning back now would be useless.

As she always had, Rachel moved in accordance with his command.

After confirming she was following, Ian stepped inside.

Silently, he scanned the house.

He opened doors here and there, inspecting each room, before finally sitting down at the kitchen table. Every movement was smooth and unhesitating—

as though it were truly his home.

In contrast, Rachel shrank her shoulders like a petty thief sneaking into someone else’s house, listening intently to every small sound.

“Don’t you have anything to drink?”

he asked bluntly, glancing at her as she nervously watched him.

“…Would you like some milk?”

Caught off guard, Rachel’s eyes darted around.

“I want that.”

Ian pointed to the jar of preserved lemons on the kitchen shelf. Bathed in sunlight, the lemons glowed a bright yellow.

“Did you make it?”

“Ah, yes… Would you like some?”

Rachel couldn’t understand a single one of his actions. Why did it matter who made the lemon preserve?

But there was no need for her to understand him. She only needed to obey.

At his silent nod, Rachel hurried to the shelf.

“Just a moment.”

She struggled to open the glass jar, but her sweat-soaked hands—slick with tension—made it difficult.

“Give it here.”

“Ah!”

As she wiped her palms on her skirt, his voice suddenly came from above.

Already tense, Rachel startled at the unexpected sound.

Crash.

The jar slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.

Her shoulders drooped even further, and silence fell between them.

“……”

Rachel looked down at Ian’s foot beneath hers and cautiously lifted her own.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to.”

“……”

“I’m sorry.”

She glanced between the foot she had stepped on and his expression, her voice trailing off.

Ian stared at her flustered state before speaking.

“Forget it. Just bring me a glass of milk.”

Rachel quickly put some distance between them, poured milk, and handed it to him.

He drained it in one gulp, set the empty cup down, and looked around the house once more.

His indifferent gaze took in every detail of her small home.

“Come out. Let’s go.”

Just as when he had entered, he left without hesitation.

Rachel followed behind him without even asking why he had come or what he wanted.

“Get on.”

After leaving the gravel yard, Ian walked to where his black horse was waiting and turned back to her, gesturing with his chin.

“What? You mean… get on?”

Though she asked, Rachel climbed onto the horse before even hearing his reply.

She had remembered too late that he disliked being questioned.

She managed to step onto the stirrup, but her long skirt made it difficult to swing her leg over.

After struggling for a while, she forced her leg across and adjusted her posture.

Once she settled, Ian mounted behind her with ease—nothing like her clumsy effort.

*How does he do that so easily…*

Feeling his presence behind her, Rachel subtly edged forward on the saddle. But when he reached forward for the reins, she couldn’t move any farther.

Without a word of explanation, Ian urged the horse forward.

Trying not to touch him even slightly, Rachel gripped the saddle tightly with both hands while glancing around, hoping to figure out where he was taking her.

They rode straight through the village and out of Ravenna.

Villagers turned to stare at Ian, Rachel, and his striking black horse—but before they could grasp the situation, the horse had already carried them far away.

At the village entrance, the horse slowed to a stop.

There stood a large carriage—just as eye-catching as Ian’s horse to the simple villagers.

Ian dismounted first and held out his hand to Rachel.

“……”

Rachel hesitated, wondering what his gesture meant.

“Take it.”

At his words, she grasped his hand with both of hers.

“No—I mean hold it and get down. It’s dangerous.”

He gave a faint, almost amused smile and clarified.

“I can get down by my—”

But before she could finish refusing, Rachel quickly closed her mouth and followed his instruction, leaning on his hand as she dismounted.

Ian handed his horse to a man standing beside the carriage and climbed in.

Rachel stood there blankly, still not understanding what she was supposed to do.

“What are you doing? Get in.”

He spoke as if instructing a child.

Not that there was any warmth in his tone—

it was authoritative, arrogant… perhaps even slightly irritated. His voice was rigid.

*Get in the carriage…?*

Unable to hold back any longer, Rachel spoke.

“Um… excuse me. Where are we going?”

That wasn’t the only thing she wanted to ask.

How had he found her?

Why had he come?

What did he intend to do with her?

But out of all those questions, she voiced only one.

“The capital.”

“……”

The question *“Why?”* rose to her lips, but she couldn’t say it.

As emperor, he had no obligation to explain anything to her.

Rachel looked back at Ravenna, feeling as though she might never return.

Her face twisted with emotion, but she did not cry.

Leaving behind the possibility of never coming back, she slowly climbed into the carriage.

Neigh.

With the sound of the horses, the carriage began to move.

—

The carriage traveled without rest. The once bright sky was now slowly turning orange.

Sitting across from the emperor, Rachel kept her head down, staring at her lap.

*Was he angry? Because I ran away from him? Did he come to take revenge?*

Her mind spun at the sight of him—after six years.

It still felt unreal, yet there he sat before her, undeniable.

Their reunion lacked everything—greetings, explanations, purpose.

But thinking about it, Ian had no reason to explain anything to her. Everything depended on his will.

Still, she wanted to know why he had come.

“……”

The memories she had buried came flooding back all at once.

No matter how hard she tried not to think about him, she couldn’t stop them.

From a very young age, Rachel had lived as a maid.

Perhaps since she was seven?

Her mother—still quite young in Rachel’s memory—had sold her to the imperial palace as a child maid.

To her mother, a few gold coins had mattered more than her daughter.

Still… she had raised her until seven. Rachel couldn’t deny that much.

Her mother, a tavern woman, had given birth to a child without even knowing the father.

After becoming pregnant, she left the tavern and began working at a restaurant.

She had tried—for the child.

But good intentions didn’t make life easier.

Eventually, she realized she couldn’t go on like that.

So when she heard the palace was recruiting young maids, she sold her daughter—thinking at least she wouldn’t starve there.

And so, at the age of seven, Rachel lost her freedom for a handful of gold coins.