The two children clasped hands, running for their lives through the shadowy forest. Their bare feet, bloodied and raw, barely touched the earth as they sprinted, heedless of pain.
The boy, no older than ten, kept glancing behind them, eyes wide with fear, as though death itself were chasing the wind at their backs.
The girl, smaller and younger, trailed close behind. Her eyes were red with unshed tears, but she bit her lip and matched his pace, not daring to fall behind—not even for a second.
But her strength had reached its limit. Her legs gave out, and she stumbled hard onto the cold forest floor.
"Ely!"
He skidded to a stop and rushed back, lifting her up with trembling arms. His gaze softened in pain as he took in her frail, wounded body.
She clenched her jaw, swallowed the pain, and looked up at him with tear-rimmed eyes. Her voice came out low and firm:
"Leave me behind."
The boy's face darkened with anger.
"How could I ever do that?"
Without waiting for her reply, he scooped her up once more. But his legs—weak from days of fleeing—buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to his knees.
"Please! Leave me!" she begged through sobs.
Behind them, the pounding of hooves grew louder—an ominous rhythm that sent chills up their spines.
Grinding his teeth, the boy scanned the forest with desperation—until his eyes caught sight of a hollow in an old tree not far off.
He looked down at the small, shivering girl in his arms, and a faint smile tugged at his pale lips.
"I told you, didn't I? I'll protect you, Ely."
Summoning the last of his strength, he carried her to the hollow and gently placed her inside.
"What are you doing…?" Her voice, weak and fading, barely reached him.
He didn't answer. Standing with the light behind him, half his face was lost to shadow, but the faint smile on his lips still glowed with warmth.
He brushed her tangled silver hair softly, whispering:
"You wanted to know my name, right?"
"Wait here. Be good. I'll come back for you. When I do… I'll tell you my name."
His warm hand lingered on her head a moment longer, then slowly withdrew.
She could no longer speak, could barely breathe. Her vision blurred as she watched him cover the hollow's entrance with dry leaves.
Light faded. And with it, he vanished.
*
"I found her!"
A distant voice tore Ely from the haze of unconsciousness.
Someone lifted her gently. Their embrace felt warm… familiar. She tried to open her eyes, but the world remained blurred, and all she could make out was the soft curve of a smiling face.
"You came…" she murmured faintly, just enough for the boy carrying her to hear.
"You're safe now, Elysia."
Her mind drifted again, but one last thought clawed its way to the surface:
"Your name…"
He laughed softly.
"My name?"
"My name is—"
*
I jolted awake, stomach growling like a wild beast, yanking me back from the strange dream. Or memory, perhaps? Elysia's memory.
So I'm… still in her body?
I groaned and pushed myself up, my limbs sore and heavy. After nearly dying from that stunt earlier, I needed to refuel—or I might not get another chance.
"Milady, you're awake!"
A soft voice called out. I turned to see a young maid with bright eyes and a brisk, graceful manner.
My eyes swept across the room. Bright, clean, and finely furnished—nothing like the dark, dusty place I'd woken in this morning.
Osmund must've made his move. No doubt he'd looked into the situation by now. But I wasn't holding my breath for him to punish his lovely wife.
I didn't need anything grand. I just wanted peace—no messy romance, no drama. My life didn't have room for that nonsense.
"Would you like something warm to drink, milady? Perhaps some milk?"
The new maid seemed sharp and well-trained. I gave a nod of approval. Before leaving, she placed a basin of warm water by the bed for me to wash.
I dipped my hand into the clear water—so clear, I could almost see Elysia's face looking back at me. I splashed my face, chasing away the last traces of sleep.
Even pale and worn, Elysia's beauty was something else. And under the pale moonlight outside the window, that beauty took on a haunting, almost unreal glow.
To think a girl like this had been left to rot away in a lonely room.
What a waste.
It wasn't every day someone reincarnated into a noble house with a face like this. I had to make it count. No more reckless stunts unless absolutely necessary.
First, I'd reclaim my rights as a proper noble lady. After that, the rest—be it the male lead, female lead, or any other tangled web—wasn't my concern. I wanted no part in their melodrama.
"Milady, I've brought your warm milk." The maid's voice drifted in from outside.
"Come in."
I watched her carefully as she entered. Every movement precise. Polite, but not overly fawning. Neither servile nor insolent.
A perfect balance.
Possibly Osmund's spy. Or maybe Catherine's. Time would tell—but for now, I was content.
"What's your name?" I asked as I took the warm milk from her hands.
"Mary, milady."
"Who sent you?"
A harmless question, but one that carried weight. Mary instantly paled and dropped to her knees.
"It was the young master! I swear, milady! I meant no offense! Please don't misunderstand!"
I stifled a laugh. A bit dramatic—but quick reflexes. That was a good sign.
"I was just asking."
"Forgive me, milady…"
Mary looked up, her expression a blend of guilt and fear. I didn't say anything—just sipped the milk slowly, letting her remain on the cold floor.
Whether she was telling the truth didn't matter. What mattered was that she understood her place.
Sensing my indifference, she stayed silent. Obedient.
Smart girl.
A maid like this could be quite useful.
I glanced out at the moon hanging in the ink-black sky. Branches stirred gently in the wind.
It was peaceful—more peace than either I or Elysia had ever known.
And no matter what, I would protect it.
This life… this calm…
I wouldn't let anyone take it from me.
* * *