"The Lord’s half-body? A key?"
"Lord Norton, I don’t understand what you an."
Xia Ya tily voiced his doubts, portraying the proper confusion of soone completely ignorant.
"Heh."
"The vast majority of ignorant commoners in this principality believe my niece is the culprit behind the calamity sixteen years ago—the embodint of disaster itself."
"But how could they possibly know? If not for her, how could they have the peaceful lives they enjoy today?"
As expected, Elder Norton let slip a few more pieces of information.
Though, as usual, his words remained as cryptic as ever.
"Can these riddle-speakers just drop dead already?"
Xia Ya cursed inwardly, but outwardly, he showed no reaction—only responding respectfully before leaving.
Gathering intelligence wasn’t sothing that had to be done in a single mont.
In Norton’s eyes, Xia Ya was nothing more than an orphan with no family, no backing, and already placed under control.
To Norton, Xia Ya was a trusted pawn, a loyal subordinate.
As the plan unfolded, sooner or later, Xia Ya would learn the full truth.
Xia Ya walked through the Capital’s bustling streets, casually glancing around.
Once he had left the Grand Ducal Estate, he silently summoned Silver and Shiny.
"Sylvia Branstat..."
The target of his mission, the future Argent Witch, was finally soone he was going to et.
"Get out. You are not welco here."
"His Grace, the Grand Duke, has always been wise, but you have utterly tarnished the Branstat na."
"If not for you, my father and brother would still be alive! The people of Cangting Principality would not have been forced from their hos!"
"Your mother died because of you! A cursed girl like you should never have existed in this world!"
Sylvia walked along the steep cliffside, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks roaring in her ears.
The cold wind bit at her cheeks like blades of ice.
No matter how hard she tried to force herself to ignore them, those harsh voices still echoed in her mind during every sleepless night.
If it were only insults, she could endure it.
At least being cursed at ant her existence still mattered.
At least, people still spent effort acknowledging her—even if that effort was purely fueled by hatred.
But what was even harder to endure—was being ignored.
The once lively family banquets, filled with chatter and laughter, would fall silent the mont she arrived—leaving behind only unfamiliarity and distance.
Children who had been playing and laughing in the garden would fall silent upon seeing her, withdrawing with wordless indifference.
Even the friends she made, when their parents found out, would soon send her a cold, formal letter cutting all ties.
She was, after all, the Grand Duke’s only daughter.
Not everyone dared to openly insult her.
In fact, it was quite the opposite. Within the Grand Ducal Estate, people treated her with exemplary etiquette, never showing disrespect.
But beneath that respectful facade, there was always coldness and distance.
"Why?"
"Am I really..."
"The disaster incarnate, just like they say?"
On countless sleepless nights, Sylvia had asked herself this very question.
Maybe, it was because of that thing deep inside her…
That twisted black figure, nailed to a massive bronze cross.
It had existed in her mind for as long as she could rember.
Most of the ti, it remained silent, muttering incomprehensible whispers.
But—
Whenever Sylvia’s emotions wavered…
Whenever she lost control…
The twisted darkness would seep out, silently consuming her consciousness.
And when she woke up again—
She would always find herself drenched in blood, with the cold, rust-like scent filling the air.
And the stares of her family elders—
More indifferent than before.
More filled with fear and loathing.
Their gazes cut deeper than knives, embedding themselves into her soul.
Since that first ti, Sylvia had never known a peaceful night again.
She was terrified that the next ti she woke up—
She would be surrounded by lifeless corpses.
"But… I never wanted this..."
Her soft whisper vanished into the evening wind, unheard by anyone.
It was dusk.
The massive sun had begun to dip below the horizon, touching the sea.
Beneath the cliffs, the Grandet Sea churned, sending thousands of tons of water crashing against the black rocks, breaking into white foam.
Sylvia stared blankly at the dark waters below.
For a long mont, she stood in silence.
Then, as if making a final decision—
She bit down gently on her cold, wind-chapped lips and stepped forward.
Half of her body leaned out over the edge of the cliff.
Just one step.
Just one step, and she would fall into the frigid abyss.
The Grandet Sea was several miles away from Cangting’s Capital—a place seldom visited by anyone.
Especially at sunset, when most people had already returned ho, gathered around the warmth of their fireplaces and magic lamps, enjoying dinner with their families.
If she fell into the sea at this mont—
Forget being rescued—even being discovered would be an impossible miracle.
And that was exactly what Sylvia wanted.
She wanted to die.
Since childhood, her life had been a tightrope walk over a bottomless abyss.
Never once could she relax.
Even so, she had nearly lost control many tis under the whispers of that shadow on the bronze cross.
She had hard innocent people.
The worst incident had leveled half a street.
She was tired of this life of endless darkness.
More than that, she was tired of herself—the self that kept harming others.
And so, on this cold winter evening, she had quietly snuck out of the Grand Ducal Estate—
To this place.
Maybe… those people had been right all along.
Maybe a girl like her—a bringer of disaster—
Should never have existed in this world.
The cold evening wind numbed her fingers, her arms, her legs.
Even her consciousness grew faint.
"O great gods..."
Her dry, cracked lips parted slightly.
Muttering a silent mockery to herself.
In her childhood, Sylvia had once secretly prayed to the gods.
She had fantasized—just like in the tales of wandering bards—that one day, soone bathed in radiant light would descend and rescue her from this endless darkness.
But deep down, she knew…
It was nothing more than a fantasy.
Perhaps gods truly existed in this world.
In the Holy Theocracy of the western continent, the Church ruled from its lofty throne, claiming to be the divine will incarnate in the mortal realm.
But if they ever discovered the thing inside her…
There would be no miracles.
No salvation.
She would only beco their enemy, a heretic to be purged.
No exceptions.
She waited for no one.
No one was coming.
Sylvia closed her eyes.
Her frail body trembled slightly.
And just as she was about to step off the cliff—
She heard a voice.
“What a coincidence, you’re here to jump too?”
The words carried none of the fear, hostility, or hatred she had grown so accustod to.
There was only curiosity.
She turned her head toward the source of the voice.
And there, not far from her, stood a tall figure.
The golden hues of the setting sun cast a glow upon his sharp and well-defined features—
Illuminating them with a deep, striking contrast.
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