From a distance, I saw him, bound and displayed on the scaffold. Under the scorching sun, his body, denied any rest for days, had withered. His widely stretched arms were chained to two distant pillars. His once lustrous black hair hung limply over his bowed head, cascading towards the ground.
A brutal execution, unbearable even for the sturdiest knights, was his fate. Publicly exposed to all manner of humiliation and disgrace, he was to die the death of a traitor.
The harshest punishment from the emperor for a noble of high standing – denied even a sip of water, not to be granted a quick death.
Duke Sion Belpast of the North. He should not be dying like this.
Hidden in the darkness, I watched him until the night deepened.
Perhaps I was the one who caused his downfall, but I had hoped he wouldn't end like this. It was an emotion I couldn't comprehend.
I killed Sir Arcadia Nugent, his closest friend, vassal, and right hand. The deputy commander of the Northern Knights, who had assisted the Duke in protecting the empire.
Later, I deceived the new deputy commander, Bran Ophilit, into inciting rebellion against the Duke and then killed him. The Duke's knightly order crumbled.
The White Butterfly – that's what they call me, an assassin.
The hound of the powerful Duke Rahert, who despised Duke Belpast. Medea Rahert, the eldest daughter of the Duke's household, was my master. I, a silver-haired assassin, followed her orders without question. A female monster with half her face grotesquely disfigured.
All these epithets referred to me, yet I didn't know who I truly was.
When darkness enveloped everything and nothing could be seen, I slowly approached the Duke. I got close, but he seemed unaware of my presence.
The water I had purposely chilled was still cool.
I knelt before the Duke, and then he lifted his head to look at me.
His eyes, once bluer than the deepest and broadest lake in the empire, now looked at me devoid of light.
"I've brought water."
I placed a cotton ball soaked in water into his mouth.
After he drank, he spit out the cotton. His gaze fixed on me after a moment.
"Is it you?"
His lips, once radiant with crimson, now cracked and covered in scabs, parted. Unable to face him directly, I bowed my head.
Duke Sion Belpast.
Only twenty-eight years old. A hero who defended the empire through numerous victories. The only noble who put his people before himself, loved by the masses, becoming the archenemy of my master, Duke Rahert.
The last of the Northern Duke's bloodline.
The man who first defeated me with a sword.
"I had hoped you would survive."
A voice like scratching on dry wood escaped my throat.
"It doesn't seem like something the White Butterfly of Rahert should say," the Duke replied. A fleeting smile touched his once-beautiful jawline, then disappeared. No anger, no sarcasm, just plain words.
How long had you been aware of my existence, an assassin? The night I disguised Arcadia's death as a suicide, did you see me as I passed by?
"When I was fifteen, Count Hern Nugent, who had protected the North in my stead, died. Was that also Rahert's doing?"
"My mentor, a dark worm of Rahert, assassinated him."
"I see. I've never heard of that person."
"Because I killed him."
I answered flatly, eyes downcast. The Duke commanded, "Lift your head, White Butterfly."
At his dignified words, I closed my eyes, silently questioning him.
Don't you know I don't have the right to look directly at you?
Even if I raise my head, all you'll see in your eyes is a monster in a mask, with one side of her face completely distorted.
"Lift your head, nameless one."
The Duke spoke again. From his voice, I sensed that he would not make it through the night.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I raised my face.
Does the moonlight reflect on my face?
Isn't my collapsed left face hideous?
The half-mask still covers my right side. I still live like this.
I spoke to him in my heart.
He looked into my eyes, just like that day 11 years ago.
The seventeen-year-old Northern Duke, who had accepted a duel with a fourteen-year-old girl with half her face covered by a mask.
After handing me my first defeat, he carefully removed the mask covering half of my face with his gentle hands.
And he asked, "Why do you cover the beautiful side of your face with a mask?"
"Because the ruined side is my real face…"
Confused, I replied, and he said, "I don't think so. To me, it seems like the covered side is your real face. Wouldn't it be better to show your beautiful side?"
Even then, he spoke in a calm tone and carefully replaced the mask so I wouldn't be more embarrassed, without taking his eyes off mine.
Meeting someone who didn't despise me, other than my mistress Medea, was the first and last time.
He wouldn't remember, but when I inadvertently looked up, our eyes met – his blue eyes staring at me.
The Duke said, "Long ago, I knew someone whose gaze was very much like yours."
"…"
"Clear, sky-blue eyes, like a cloudless sky. Yours are red, but the eyes beneath your mask… I can't remember."