Chapter 1

Prologue

“Ah, my God!”

Aya suddenly remembered a line from a song she had forgotten for a very long time.

Like a corpse suddenly rising from its grave, an echo of a bygone era she had erased from her memory struck her mind without warning.

How ridiculous.

Aya inwardly mocked herself for retracing the melody of the song.

She did not want to recall the lyrics of a forgotten time.

It was far too sentimental.

But her mind, which had been unable to sleep for so long, was no longer functioning properly.

“…Please, I beg you, kill me.”

Someone’s voice continued to sing inside her head.

At the clumsy pitch, Aya let out a laugh to herself like a madwoman.

So noisy.

Her thoughts refused to gather into a single thread because of the headache caused by sleep deprivation, jumping wildly from one thing to another.

She had been unable to sleep properly for nearly ten days.

Having scraped together every last bit of her abilities in order to survive, she had suffered the backlash, and the evil spirits had relentlessly tormented her.

Whenever she tried to fall asleep, exhausted to the bone, the evil spirits would invariably start playing their cruel tricks.

The moment her consciousness began to fade, their torment only grew worse.

Aya had struggled with them throughout the night, but in the end, there was no one who could help her except herself.

Except Nahal.

Aya raised her head and looked beyond the window.

The light of the rising sun was beginning to climb over the wall that divided the grounds.

Sunlight fell upon the broken branches and the long, bent stems of dried flowers.

The view outside the window was miserable.

Every jar had been smashed, its fragments scattered chaotically across the ground, while the pond that had once been stained with blood had gradually taken on a brownish hue.

The garden that had once been so beautiful had lost all trace of its former appearance. It had become a graveyard for everything that had been shattered, broken, and cut down.

“……”

The sunlight streaming through the window made the gold-threaded trim of her clothes shimmer.

The eagle emblem embroidered along the hem revealed her status.

The ring on her finger served the same purpose as the embroidery.

It was something only the most noble woman could possess.

Until ten days ago, she had been the owner of that position.

But if someone asked whether she still was, she could not say for certain.

Nahal had not come looking for her during those ten days.

No.

No one had come looking for her.

She had simply been abandoned here, together with the corpses.

Will he kill me?

She had turned that question over and over in her mind for ten days.

Even after coming this far, she was still asking herself something like that.

She knew it was foolish, yet she could not let go of hope.

He had slaughtered every traitor, but even after learning that she had survived, he had made no attempt to kill her.

Was that neglect?

Or protection?

“…Hah.”

Protection?

The thought itself made her laugh.

Even while mocking herself, she could not bring herself to put a period at the end of the obvious answer.

The sight of her own pathetic self made her feel as though her throat were being strangled, leaving her unable to breathe.

Then it happened.

Clack, clack, clack…

The sound of footsteps, regular and measured, came from somewhere in the distance.

Aya turned her head toward the direction of the sound beyond the window.

At the end of her somewhat nervous gaze, she saw several people walking beneath the roof of the corridor.

Her heart began to pound.

Aya had no trouble recognizing the person at the front.

His hair shimmered in the sunlight.

In an instant, the chilling presence of the evil spirits subsided.

Nahal.

Her arms and legs began to tremble.

She could not tell whether it was because she was starving or because she was afraid.

Perhaps it was because she was excited.

This is ridiculous.

To her surprise, Aya began to feel elated.

Inside this enormous, horrifying grave that he had created, she felt her heart flutter.

Her thoughts began to turn absurdly optimistic.

There are no armed soldiers.

If he had intended to cut off her head, he would have come with soldiers.

No, he would not even have needed to come himself.

Then why had he come personally, without even bringing weapons?

Maybe he trusts me.

Perhaps he might understand me.

Perhaps he—

It was absurd, but perhaps, despite all those lies, Nahal might still trust her.

Aya rose from her seat.

As she put weight on her body, her already-injured leg began to tremble violently.

The arm gripping her cane shook just as badly.

Even so, she decided to leave the room for now.

Supporting herself with the cane, Aya moved forward with slow, awkward steps.

She opened the door and had just stepped into the corridor when—

“Gasp!”

She stepped on something slippery and collapsed right in front of the doorway.

Her body, unable to maintain its balance easily, crashed heavily onto the floor.

Her long, jet-black hair came loose and covered her vision.

As she fell, she managed to brace herself with her arm and barely avoided hitting her face, but the cane she had thrown slipped several steps away and rolled across the floor.

It was far enough that she would have to crawl to reach it.

As she reached for the wall to pull herself up again, Aya realized what she had stepped on.

It was a pool of blood that had begun to dry.

Aya realized that her clothes, arms, and legs were smeared with the rotting blood.

Her already sluggish thoughts seemed to freeze completely.

Then, a commotion came from the far end of the corridor.

When she raised her head, she saw someone walking toward her.

Nahal.

From a distance, she saw him wave the others away.

He walked toward her alone.

In the silence, only the sound of his footsteps was clear.

Footsteps without the slightest hesitation.

A face from which no emotion could be read.

As he approached, Aya scanned his face and limbs from head to toe, checking whether he was unharmed.

There was a wound on his face that she had never seen before, and he looked slightly thinner, but both his arms and both his legs were perfectly intact.

She had heard rumors that he had endured unimaginable pain, so she felt enormously relieved.

Thank goodness.

Only after confirming that he was unharmed did Aya finally exhale, trembling all over.

Soon, Nahal stood before her.

Perhaps he had heard her sigh, because he lowered his gaze and looked down at her.

His eyes were deep as he examined her, almost as though he were observing her closely.

A low voice sounded above Aya’s head.

“Are you disappointed?”

Aya’s shoulders flinched as she raised her head.

The moment her eyes met his, her body began to tremble.

Aya saw a chilling glint pass through his red eyes.

Her breath caught.

It was the first time he had ever looked at her with eyes like these.

“Didn’t you say you wished only for my death?”

His voice was monotonous, devoid of either regret or anger.

His expression was as perfect as ever, and unusually merciless.

Even though the palace had descended into chaos beneath the blade he had wielded, he, the very center of it all, looked unnervingly calm, as though he were merely taking a leisurely stroll.

He still looked terrifyingly immaculate.

“…Are you hurt?”

He tilted his head as he asked.

Unsure what he meant, Aya hesitated to answer, so he asked once more.

His eyes flashed ominously.

“Who touched you?”

The way he asked the question, as though grinding the words between his teeth, sent chills down her spine.

Only belatedly understanding what he meant, Aya shook her head from side to side.

At her reaction, he bent down on one knee and abruptly seized her arm.

His long, rough fingers ran over her thin arm, which was smeared with blood.

After confirming that she had no wound severe enough to account for this much blood, the tension in his face eased slightly.

“…I really must be insane.”

He muttered the words self-deprecatingly.

Nahal’s grip tightened around Aya’s arm.

Feeling an inexplicable unease, Aya leaned backward, trying to pull the arm he was holding away.

But he did not let her go.

Instead, he pulled her toward him and brought their eyes level.

“Even though you’re this afraid.”

He spoke quietly.

It seemed he had felt her body trembling as well.

No.

Aya wanted to say that.

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t simply because she was afraid of him.

But at times like this, she was helpless.

Her lips moved, but no sound ever managed to become a word and leave her mouth.

Unless her severed tongue grew back, unless she regained her voice, it would continue to be this way.