YWPWYLFDM 03

Chapter 3

To do that, she needed to understand the situation.

All Eila knew about her enemy was a name. Nothing more. No family, no history—just a single name: Byron.

It was absurd. After all those years, the only information she had about the man she had called “Father” was a single name. And even that, she only learned from someone else’s mouth, right before his death.

The duke and duchess had lost their daughter when she was two. For the next fourteen years, until she returned to the duke’s household at sixteen, she had lived as Byron’s daughter.

She knew what drinks he liked, what foods he preferred, how to please him, and make him smile at her. But as for who he truly was—she knew nothing. The realization made her click her tongue in frustration.

How pitiful she had been.

Still, this life was different from her previous one. She now knew who she really was, and who her true enemy was.

At the very least, she would no longer be at the mercy of that devil Byron.

“Miss, you’re not sleeping in again, are you? Why are you so slow? If this continues, Master will be angry.”

Laura knocked on the old door with enough force to break it, urging her on. It seemed she had no intention of letting Eila even think things through.

In truth, sitting in this room alone would not have changed anything. The information she had was far too limited. She didn’t even know her exact age or where she currently was.

“I’ll be out soon.”

Eila dunked her face into the cold basin water, replying to Laura. The chill woke her senses. The sensation—the sheer clarity of being alive—was startling.

After drying her face with the towel Laura had left on the table, Eila changed into the outfit laid out beside it: a riding-style training uniform she had worn throughout her childhood.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she stepped outside, where Laura grumbled at her.

“Why on earth are you so late? Don’t you want to train at dawn? Why do you insist on doing things you normally wouldn’t, Miss? At this rate, I’ll have no choice but to report to Master. Father will be so disappointed in you.”

Even as a child, Laura had always acted as if she were the mistress herself.

It had been the same when Eila entered the duke’s household. In the presence of others, Laura behaved politely and cautiously, but when alone with her, the tone changed.

When Eila had lived only under Laura and Byron’s retainers, it hadn’t seemed strange. But after experiencing the household staff who genuinely cared for her, it now struck her as odd.

If she were truly Byron’s daughter, she wouldn’t have been treated this way. Even if they didn’t follow her sincerely like the household staff, at the very least they would have shown her basic human respect.

“…Are you listening to me?”

“Yes. I’m listening.”

In the past, Eila would have been fidgety, worried about Laura’s judgment. After all, disappointing Byron had once been the worst thing in the world.

Or perhaps she would have never even moved so sluggishly in the first place. Still, Laura would have found some reason to scold her.

Laura raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by Eila’s calm demeanor. From her perspective, it was like a dog that had always obeyed its owner suddenly refusing to follow commands.

Yes. A dog.

To Byron, Eila had been nothing more than a hunting dog. A dog to be discarded after the hunt. A foolish dog, wagging its tail, unaware that its master was plotting its demise.

But now, things were different. From this point on, she would become the kind of vicious dog that waited for the chance to bite the master’s neck. Of course, she would still wag her tail outwardly, appearing obedient.

Until she uncovered Byron’s true identity and his objectives.

Her suspicions were justified—his actions were far too peculiar to be aimed solely at assassinating a duke. When she had trusted him blindly, she hadn’t thought much of it, but looking back, it had always been suspicious.

Even if the ambush had taken advantage of the chaos of her birthday banquet, the success of the attack on the duke’s household was itself suspicious.

In the two years she had spent as a ward learning about the duke’s household, she knew that the von Weissenhof dukes were formidable protectors of the Pelles Empire, boasting an impressive order of knights and military strength.

Though not as vast as the northern territories, the mansion in the capital where she stayed was heavily guarded. Skilled knights guarded the estate, each one formidable.

Yet someone living hidden like a fugitive could somehow muster the forces to breach those defenses? Suspicious.

There were other oddities too.

Even while hiding in remote places with no one around, Byron maintained a lavish lifestyle. Where did all that money come from?

As a child, she hadn’t thought much about economics, but after being educated in the household as a ward, she knew just how expensive everything Byron consumed or wore was.

“There’s definitely something. Something I don’t know.”

Clenching her fists, Eila steeled herself.

Following Laura outside the old fortress, the sky was still dim. The sun had only just risen.

Looking around, all she could see was an endless forest and towering mountains.

Her childhood had always been like this: lost in forests she couldn’t name, hiding in abandoned fortresses or mountain hideouts, then moving to another location every few months.

Even if she killed Byron now, a child’s body couldn’t navigate the forest, let alone reach the duke’s mansion.

Even riding a horse, it would take a full day to reach the capital—but she couldn’t even ride a horse yet.

It was almost laughable in hindsight. Byron had trained her in countless ways to become a human weapon—but he had never taught her to ride a horse. To keep her tied to his side.

Eila had trusted Byron completely in the past, never once thinking to run away, yet he had still restricted her from learning how to ride.

‘It’s already morning, but it feels a little warm. Summer, perhaps.’

She looked for clues to estimate her age and situation. Her memory was decent, but living in so many similar places made it difficult to judge the timing from surroundings alone.

She appeared to be around eleven or twelve, but couldn’t be sure.

‘If only there were some clue.’

It seemed likely to be summer. Laura had dressed her lightly, and the wash water had been cold.

Though Laura and the retainers treated her harshly, they hadn’t neglected her food, clothing, or health. That too must have been part of Byron’s plan to train her as an assassin—without proper nutrition, her body could not grow strong.

“…Have you arrived, Miss?”

Lost in thought, Eila finally encountered a familiar face.

Her mentor and Byron’s loyal shadow: Cloud.

For Cloud, she might have been an everyday sight, but after two years without seeing him in the duke’s household, it had been a long time for Eila.

Unlike Laura, who belittled her, Cloud had treated her with some measure of humanity, yet she did not feel happy to see him.

She didn’t know how much he knew, but he was still complicit in deceiving and using her.

“You’re late. Did you oversleep?”

“…Sorry for being late.”

The tone wasn’t scolding, but Eila could not risk raising any suspicion with Laura or Cloud, so she hid her true feelings and apologized.

It wasn’t even fully daylight, yet they complained as if she had been irresponsibly late.

Laura cast her a sharp look, then turned to help prepare breakfast inside the fortress.

“You will eat with Master, so morning will be devoted to physical training. Weapon training will follow after breakfast.”

Cloud murmured, his low voice almost a clue in itself.

“Weapon training?”

Something clicked in her mind. She examined her hands again. Small, fresh scars marred her fingers.

It had been in the summer of her twelfth year when she first began handling weapons like daggers and bows. Being inexperienced, she had suffered cuts and bruises everywhere.

The string of a bow had left bruises; a dagger’s blade had drawn blood.

Seeing the long-healed scars now, she felt a strange sensation.

‘Then I must be twelve now.’

Twelve. Four years remained until she would enter the duke’s household.

To Eila, wanting to return to her parents’ arms and apologize for everything she had done, four years felt impossibly long—but in another sense, it was fortunate. She would have time to understand exactly what Byron’s plans were.

Clenching her scarred fists tightly, Eila prepared herself.