Chapter 3
The morning sun was already high when Leticia finally opened her eyes.
After the strange, fragmented night that ended with her visiting Duke Raul, she had fallen asleep as if struck by a spell.
Once Asha left the room to fetch breakfast, Leticia climbed down from her bed and stood before the tall mirror.
“Did I really… go back to the past?”
The reflection in the mirror moved its lips whenever she spoke.
She lifted her short arms and pressed her soft, round cheeks with both hands, tugging them outward. A sharp sting spread through her skin.
“Ow…”
The pain, along with the redness that bloomed across her cheeks, was enough proof — this was no dream.
She began to form another hypothesis:
Maybe she was simply eight years old again, and everything that had happened — the years of suffering and loss — had been nothing but a long nightmare.
But the little girl in the mirror shook her head slowly.
No. It was all too vivid, too painfully real to be dismissed as a dream.
“I really did come back….”
Ten years ago —
back to the time when she was still a naïve, powerless child.
Back to being Leticia Kuhn Kafka, the girl once called “the White Raven of House Kafka.”
Why? How? For what purpose?
A flood of unanswered questions swirled through her mind. But before she could sink too deep into them—
“No. What’s important right now is…”
Leticia straightened, folding her small arms as if bracing herself.
“Lady Kafka, you are not the Duke’s true daughter. You are the blessed child of the late Saint of the Holy State of Ermano.”
“I am your real father.”
Those were the words that had shattered her world years ago.
When she discovered she was not the Duke’s biological child, but rather the daughter of the Saint of Ermano and High Priest Joseph, everything inside her had splintered.
“Father… may I go to the Holy State of Ermano?”
“If you wish to go, then go. I am not your father by blood, so my permission hardly matters.”
She had hoped he would stop her — that he would say he needed her.
Instead, his reply was cold and final.
And so, she began to believe that perhaps his distance, his indifference, had always been because she wasn’t truly his daughter.
“The White Raven Princess has become a distraction. The Emperor fears the Duke can no longer perform his duties properly because of her.”
“She’s nothing like her father. The House of Kafka will lose its standing if this continues.”
The whispers of strangers hurt far more than any familiar voice could.
And yet, she had never wanted to leave the Duke’s estate.
This place held Asha, Hagen, and the kind servants who had given her warmth.
If she grew into a worthy daughter of House Kafka, perhaps someday, her father would finally call her his child.
That hope had kept her there.
Until the day she learned of the curse.
“If you come with me to the Holy State, I will tell you how to break the Duke’s curse.”
The Duke of Kafka — known as the Emperor’s shadow — was bound by a terrible curse that chained his body and soul.
That was why he had never disobeyed imperial command.
The Emperor possessed a drug that could suppress the curse.
Without it, Raul’s body would blacken and harden, as though being devoured by darkness, until even his heart turned to stone.
“If you can break that curse, the Duke will finally see you as a true daughter of House Kafka.”
“But speak of this to anyone, and our agreement is void. Between you and me, who do you think the world will believe — the High Priest of the Holy State, or a little girl?”
She hadn’t known what awaited her there — the loneliness, the imprisonment, the weight of false sainthood.
Branded as a “saint,” Leticia was confined to a small, airless chamber with only a palm-sized window.
No letters, no visits, no contact with the empire.
Even remembering it made her chest tighten.
“The curse… right. He said there was a way to lift it.”
Grrrgle.
Her stomach growled loudly.
The sound broke through her spiraling thoughts, and she let out a weak laugh.
This body — small, young, very much alive — obeyed hunger before reason.
“Let’s eat first. Then I’ll think.”
Whatever mystery had brought her back to this time, she had time enough to figure it out.
“I might not be able to break the curse right away… but I know how to weaken it!”
But before she could plan anything, she would need energy.
And before that—
Well, breakfast came first.
Soon her table was filled with dishes prepared just for her — a fragrant mushroom soup that warmed her belly, a tender steak soft enough to cut with a fork, and a crisp salad covered in bright, sweet-sour dressing.
Leticia’s eyes sparkled.
“Wow…”
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
How long had it been since she’d seen a meal like this?
Not the dry bread and cold broth of the Holy State —
but warm, freshly made food, rich with the scent of home.
“When you’re finished, I’ll bring your favorite dessert, my lady.”
“Really…?”
Her voice trembled slightly.
Would she really be allowed to eat all this?
Asha only smiled, misunderstanding the question.
“Of course.”
Leticia swallowed hard as the aroma filled her nose.
“Then—thank you for the food!”
Her voice rang with childlike energy.
By the time the last bite disappeared, the plates were spotless.
“Oh, my! You finished everything?”
Asha gasped, eyes wide with genuine awe.
In her memory, Leticia had been a notoriously picky eater.
No matter how finely the chef chopped vegetables, she always managed to find them and refuse.
“My lady! Would you like another dessert? Or two? I’ll bring three if you want!”
Leticia blinked, confused by her excitement.
“Um… two might be okay?”
She raised two small fingers cautiously.
“Two it is! Right away!”
Asha nodded so enthusiastically that Leticia momentarily feared her head might fall off.
Just as Asha opened the door to leave—
Bang!
She nearly collided with Hagen, who stood holding a tray and wearing a startled expression.
“Ah… did I come at a bad time?”
“Mr. Hagen!”
“Asha.”
“Our young lady—!”
Asha trembled with excitement, and Hagen’s face immediately hardened.
“What happened to her?”
“She ate all her salad!”
She thrust an empty plate toward him as if presenting evidence of a miracle.
Hagen stared at it in silence. The faint traces of dressing glistened on the porcelain.
Leticia, overhearing everything, felt her cheeks heat.
“The salad… really?”
“Yes! This was the plate! Look how clean it is!”
The old butler blinked, as though confirming he had heard correctly.
Then, solemnly, he turned to Asha.
“We should reward the chef.”
“Or display this plate in the hall!”
“A splendid idea. No—better yet, we must inform the Duke at once. I’ll deliver the good news myself.”
The two exchanged grave nods, as though sharing a state secret, and turned toward Leticia with glowing pride.
She could only sit there, her face red as an apple.
“Were they… always like this?”
When she’d left for the Holy State, she’d been fifteen.
And though she’d only spent three years away, the memory of those gentle, overly dramatic servants felt strangely distant — like faded ink on an old page.
She remembered snippets of their old habits, their laughter:
“The young lady embroidered for the first time today!”
“What a fine snake—”
“It’s a raven!”
“Ah, a raven! Then we must tell the Duke and preserve it as a family heirloom!”
No matter how small the accomplishment, they celebrated it as if it were a miracle.
A warmth pricked at her chest, and she rubbed it absently.
Click.
The door opened again.
Expecting Asha with dessert, Leticia turned her head—
—only to freeze.
Standing there, a silver tray in hand, was Raul, Duke of Kafka himself.
And his red eyes were fixed squarely on her.
“…Father?”
