YWPWYLFDM 05

Chapter 5

She had tried her best not to show it, but had she aroused his suspicion after all?

Still, there was time to make amends. After all, she had spent over ten years with this devil, and it wasn’t the first time she had made him angry.

Each time, she had pleaded and begged until she regained his trust. She could do the same this time.

Even if it meant kneeling before the devil and groveling like a coward. She could endure that—if it was to eliminate that devil.

“I’m sorry, Father. Ah… it’s because I had a nightmare. I got scared… I was so terrified… I won’t let it happen again. Please forgive me, just this once.”

Ayla clung to Byron’s leg, putting on a terrified act. The thought of doing this to someone who could strangle her to death at any moment was infuriating enough to bring tears to her eyes—but paradoxically, it made her performance more convincing.

The daughter of Rodrick, whom he despised with every fiber of his being, now begging with tears in her eyes… surely that would satisfy Byron’s twisted sense of justice.

“A nightmare? What kind of nightmare could you have…?”

Her guess was spot on. His dark expression softened slightly.

“I… it was… a terrifying dream where I was abandoned by you, Father.”

A nightmare of a life spent deceived, used to the fullest, and ultimately discarded and killed.

It wasn’t a complete lie—except that the “dream” wasn’t just a dream, but a future that had actually happened.

“…My daughter, forget such dreams quickly. I would never abandon you.”

Right. For now. She still had work to do. She was still useful.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Of course. You are my only hope. So I hope nothing like this happens again. Only you can complete this father’s revenge. If you neglect your training, this father will be very saddened.”

With that, he gently ran his hand through Ayla’s hair again.

Meanwhile, a lavish meal had been prepared for Byron.

“Now, return to your seat and have your meal as well.”

He removed his hand from her head, gesturing as if swatting away a bothersome fly. Ayla, struggling to suppress the nausea rising in her throat, returned to her place.

The attendants beside Byron served him, compensating for his missing right hand. They cut the tempting steaks and poured wine as red as blood into his glass.

The menu was a bit heavy for breakfast or lunch, but Byron always ate like this. Fresh meat was always prepared for him, as he loved it.

“Hm, good. Today is venison steak?”

“Yes, Master. It’s venison we caught this morning.”

Byron gracefully brought the steak, cut by the servant, to his mouth. Watching him close his eyes and savor the flavor made Ayla feel nauseous, so she quickly turned her attention back to her own plate.

“Venison is good, but it lacks fat. Beef is softer and tastier, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Master.”

“But what can we do? We can’t ask for fresh beef in these mountains.”

Leaning his arm on the chair, he sat crookedly, drinking a sip of wine with a dissatisfied expression.

What a gourmet.

Ayla bitterly smiled inwardly at him. It was a thought she could never voice aloud.

It seemed clear that her past self had been completely blinded. Even witnessing such a luxurious lifestyle while constantly running away, she had still thought her father was perfect.

Trying to focus on cutting her venison steak so as not to draw attention, Ayla soon heard Byron mention her.

“…Hah. If I want to eat my beloved beef like before, my daughter will have to work hard. Train well so you can finish this father’s revenge. Only then will I be able to live without hiding like this.”

Ridiculous. It was a line she could never respond to with a smile.

In the past, she might have thought, I must work hard for Father. But now, knowing everything, hearing this required tremendous patience.

Still, Ayla displayed that patience and smiled brightly.

“Yes, Father. I’ll work hard.”

Byron smiled contentedly and returned to his meal.

Byron’s meals always took a long time. Partly because he was missing a hand, but mostly because he enjoyed eating slowly and leisurely.

Ayla’s meal also took longer than usual as she tried to keep up, but Byron savored his venison far longer.

Thus, even after finishing, she had to wait until he finally rose from the table.

“Then rise now, my daughter. I trust you’ll train diligently this afternoon.”

Finally, Byron rose, brushing his hair elegantly. Even after forgiving her, his words left an uneasy impression. Her past self would have fretted over this, thinking of ways to appease her father.

Watching him leave, Ayla’s eyes caught a glimmer at his waist.

A dagger.

Set in a platinum sheath, adorned with a large violet diamond.

The same dagger she had used to kill Rodrick.

Though it was the poison, not the wound from the dagger, that ended Rodrick’s life, Ayla’s memory still associated his death with her blade.

Even if she had gone back in time and erased her past deeds, the memory remained vivid.

A surge of emotion welled up inside her.

Before, she had felt nothing—but now, knowing Byron’s pathological obsession with Ophelia, the dagger appeared different.

It seemed to symbolize Ophelia, with her smooth silver hair and gentle violet eyes.

It might have been a stretch to associate a mere piece of metal with Ophelia, but she couldn’t ignore it.

The elegant craftsmanship also seemed reminiscent of Ophelia. Combined with Byron’s obsessive protection of it, her disgust only grew.

Ayla felt an urgent need to snatch the dagger away. He didn’t deserve it.

She couldn’t know exactly what had happened between her parents and Byron.

But thinking of the love-filled gaze shared between Ophelia and Rodrick, it was clear Byron had unnecessarily interfered between lovers.

Not Rodrick.

“Miss.”

Cloud’s voice interrupted her stare at Byron’s fading figure.

“It’s time for afternoon training, Miss.”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t the time. She had to hold her breath, strengthen herself, and wait.

Clenching her fists, Ayla followed Cloud. Her teeth felt as if they were grinding together.

In the afternoon, she again trained in assassination techniques with Cloud.

They studied where to strike on a human figure to kill instantly and practiced wielding daggers.

Ayla already knew everything, but if she excelled too quickly, it would raise suspicion. So she intentionally underperformed.

At the same time, she couldn’t appear careless—Cloud or Laura might report something to Byron. So she feigned diligence and interest in her training.

Pretending to struggle with things she could do easily was exhausting.

She didn’t remember her exact skill level at age twelve, but fortunately, Cloud’s stoic face betrayed no emotion.

It seemed she wasn’t being unnatural.

Dinner was a simple meal in her room, as Byron was busy with a meeting.

It was good not to face his repulsive presence, but all she could think about was sneaking into Byron’s room to eavesdrop on the meeting.

“Don’t feel disappointed, Miss. Since Master is busy, you have to eat separately. He asked me to be sure to tell you he’s sorry.”

“…I see.”

That wasn’t truly what Ayla regretted, but Laura comforted her after reading her expression.

It was always like this: scare her severely, then suddenly act kind. Everyone, including Byron and Laura.

As a child, Ayla had been conditioned to constantly anticipate their reactions.

“Our Master is truly merciful. You only did half of the early morning training because you overslept, yet he forgave you. Doesn’t that show how much he loves and adores you?”

He certainly wouldn’t have forgiven me. Laura’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head.

“So from now on, you must strive to meet his expectations, right?”