Because right before them, standing fragilely under the shaded corridor light, was a figure that didn’t belong to this world.
Shouldn't even.
A weak, sickly, breathtakingly beautiful girl, staring back at them with wide, shimring eyes.
Those eyes blinked slowly, a pair of ruby-hued gems gleaming with a crystalline luster, innocent and fragile, as if she’d just awoken from a deep slumber.
She struggled to step forward, bare feet brushing against the cold stone tiles, her delicate voice floating softly toward them.
“Pardon , Misters… but, can you tell where I am?” The words left her lips like the tinkling of wind chis, light and lodic, brushing past their ears like a song ant only for them.
The three sentry guards froze imdiately, their postures stiffening like brittle statues.
Her long, dark hair fell in loose waves down her back, silken strands glinting slightly under the dim morning light.
Her face tilted gently to the side, as if curious, revealing features far too exquisite to be real.
Doll-like, too perfect, too impossibly symtrical, like she was sculpted rather than born.
Soft cherry-colored lips quivered slightly.
Her cheeks carried just a natural tint of blush, paired with eyes so large and dewy they looked like they could cry at any mont.
But that was just the beginning.
Because as their gazes drifted downward, all purity dissolved.
Her figure was a contradiction, crafted as if to drag the eyes downward against one’s will.
The curves, the suggestiveness, the sheer allure stitched into the lines of her form weren’t innocent.
They were designed to bewitch.
That white dress she wore clung loosely yet perfectly, enough to ignite a thousand thoughts, enough to drive a man insane.
It swayed with each subtle movent, brushing her skin like a whisper, and only served to highlight what shouldn’t be seen.
Shit.
One of the guards clenched his jaw and bit down hard, drawing blood.
The other two followed instinctively, snapping their teeth together, trying to anchor themselves back to reason.
But it was difficult. That face. That body.
That presence.
Finally, one of them managed to snap out of it and dropped to one knee with a heavy thud against the tiles.
The others scrambled a beat later, quickly kneeling alongside him.
“We see Her Highness!” the three shouted in unison, their voices echoing slightly off the corridor walls.
Mize blinked innocently, then staggered back with both hands clasped to her chest, pressing against the fabric as if to shield herself, as though startled.
The pure white dress folded around her legs, clinging even tighter as she stumbled two steps back, pale arms curling protectively across her body.
The three guards hurriedly dropped their gazes, their faces flushed a deep crimson.
Whatever… reactions they were suffering down there, they couldn’t hide them.
It was unbearable.
Rising stiffly to their feet, they peeked up, cautiously, toward the girl now looking confused and slightly afraid.
“Y-Your Highness?” one of them whispered.
“W-Who are you?” Mize stamred, eyes wide, lips trembling. She stepped back again, visibly shaken. “W-Why do you keep calling that? Where… where am I? Do you know where is this?"
Her fearful expression struck sothing in them.
The guards exchanged confused glances. Sothing wasn’t right.
Her tone, her panic… even with her abnormal appearance, the emotion behind those words felt too real.
Then it clicked.
One of the guards frowned. His mind put the pieces together quickly. “…She lost her mories?”
The others stiffened again.
That must be it.
The one to the right straightened, glancing once at the girl and then at his fellow guards. “I’ll return and report to the butler right away. The Lord isn’t here currently"
But just as he was about to turn and leave, the man in the center, the one who had first knelt, quietly removed his helt.
Beneath it was a youthful, unremarkable face.
Slight stubble lined his chin, his hair damp with sweat beneath the iron.
He stepped forward slowly and placed a firm hand on the departing guard’s shoulder.
“Wait,” he said with a calm voice. “Brother… didn’t you hear? She’s lost her mories.”
“What?”
The departing guard blinked in confusion, turning slightly, and that was all it took.
A clenched fist ca slamming into his face.
Bam!
The blow sent him stumbling backwards in surprise. His footing faltered. Then.
Shk!
In one fluid, ruthless motion, the unremarkable man drew his blade and slashed across the confused guard’s neck.
The head tumbled to the floor with a sickening thud, blood spraying against the corridor wall in a sudden, vivid splash.
The body crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
Mize gasped, stumbling back in instinctive fear. Her arms flinched, posture shrinking in on itself.
‘Crap... I forgot. In this state, the Neutrality Skill no longer works…’ she thought quickly, heart racing behind her false expression.
Still, she didn’t lose the thread.
She followed the script, eyes trembling, lips parting as though to cry. Her body shivered in silence.
The man with the blade turned calmly toward the final guard, his own comrade a mont ago.
The two locked eyes.
And the persou sentry took a sharp breath.
The situation had shifted entirely in the blink of an eye.
He hadn’t even seen the slash clearly, it was that fast.
And now, only two people stood between the girl and the unknown.
The two exchanged glances, then the broader one reached up and pulled off his helt with a clink of tal, revealing a bloated face pressed oddly into his gear, sweaty skin, uneven stubble, and crooked yellowed teeth that flashed in a sneer.
“What a stupid guy,” he grunted, his thick lips curling. “Instead of enjoying the dish right in front of him, he wants to report to the higher-ups that Her Highness has woken up.”
"Especially now, when she lost her mories. Judging the way she's moving, it's clearly that she is in a weakened state."
"Such a gift for us!"
His voice carried a smugness that lingered unpleasantly in the air.
Beside him, the lanky guard chuckled under his breath, expression twisting into sothing oddly gleeful, almost too pleased with what was about to unfold.
These two people were already bad and vulgar in the first place.
Coupled with Mize's charm, exposed due to her body being weak, unable to access her skills, the two were influenced.
Mize narrowed her eyes.
Ohooo... are they actually going to go through with this?
Her thoughts coiled into motion, eyebrows twitching.
She clearly hadn’t expected the two to be this calculated, even if they were obviously drunk on lust.
Their boldness wasn’t from infatuation, it was sothing colder. Crueller.
Then, the skinny one took a step forward, his boots scuffing lightly against the stone floor.
His grin stretched wide, both hands raised in a mock gesture of civility.
“Your Highness,” he began, voice dripping with false courtesy, “please don’t make things difficult for us. Instead, won’t you grant us the honour... of using you for our needs?”
There was a pause.
Huh?
Swoosh.
She didn’t have ti to move.
They were suddenly beside her, their bodies closing in like walls.
Her instincts kicked in too late, her body jolted, breath hitching as she stumbled backward, face pale with panic.
She turned, trying to flee, but rough hands clamped down on her arms.
She was shoved forcefully onto the ground.
“Hold her arms and legs, let go first!” barked the fat one, already wrestling with his belt.
“Help!!” Mize cried out, thrashing beneath them.
But her voice was imdiately swallowed as the fat guard stuffed a filthy stocking into her mouth, pressing it deep until her protests muffled into guttural whimpers.
Her limbs flailed.
Her eyes went wide, heart hamring against her ribs as the two laughed like hyenas, giddy from the touch of her skin.
Their grip was forceful, sweaty hands pinning her arms and legs with unsettling eagerness.
Just the contact alone made their breath grow ragged.
'damn, what the hell? I am this weak!'
Her softness under their hands was already more than their minds could handle.
“If we get to finish...” one of them wheezed, delirious, “it’s gonna feel like heaven...”
But then Mize’s eyes narrowed.
Her face twisted, and she suddenly clawed hard at the skinny guard’s hand.
Her fingernails scraped into his skin, drawing blood that oozed down his wrist.
His expression snapped from amusent to fury.
Teeth clenched, veins pulsing along his temple, he raised his arm high, ready to slap her across the face.
Her heart jumped.
'Ahaaa... this is going to hurt if it lands,' she thought bitterly, biting back the urge to recoil.
Liam, seriously... get here already, goddamn it!
As the slap ca down, and her eyes squeezed shut, tears welled up at the corners, tracing down her cheeks.
Then.
A presence erged. Sudden.
Neither of them saw when he arrived.
Not until it was already too late.
“Huh?”
Crack.
Slash.
The skinny one barely had ti to turn his head before sothing cut straight through his torso.
A clean, diagonal line, from waist to spine.
His eyes widened as his body slumped, vision spiraling into a blur of movent and sound.
But instead of slipping into darkness, what ca next was worse, far worse.
The fat one gasped.
The panic that shot through his body was instant. His fingers loosened from Mize’s ankles, face turning ghostly white.
The halfway downed pant flopped strangely as he struggled to stand.
But he didn’t even have the luxury to flinch.
With a flick.
His head was sent flying, spinning midair before slamming against the wall with a grotesque thud.
Blood sprayed in arcs across the ground, soaking stone and cloth alike.
His corpse staggered for a second before collapsing like a sack of at.
“What...?” that was the last thing his eyes seed to ask before they went empty.
Thump.
Both bodies dropped like discarded puppets. Limbs splayed, unmoving.
Mize didn’t miss a beat. Her acting was flawless, the clothes stuck in her mouth fell off.
She scread, loud and broken, a voice full of horror, shaking as if she’d just witnessed the worst thing in her life.
Her body trembled violently, heels scraping backward against the floor, fingers clawing the stone.
Blood coated her gown, dripped down her collar, and splattered across her hands and cheeks.
So even sared near her temple, blending into her skin.
She looked like sothing from a nightmare. A bloodied noble beauty left in the wreckage of violence.
Then Liam turned to face her.
His expression had none of the fury
that had sliced through the air just monts ago.
His brows were furrowed, and his eyes scanned her face with sothing that looked oddly soft, deep concern, maybe even guilt.
"Mimi?"
His presence lingered. His gaze didn’t flinch from her blood-streaked figure.
Not once.
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