After the assassination, I disappeared like a butterfly in a white cloak.
I was a killer known as White Butterfly.
I killed whoever Laheart commanded.
My actions were just taking a few lives, but those lost lives became a giant storm that crumbled the North.
The weakened Northern Duke was labeled a traitor by the silver-tongued Laheart Duke and met a miserable death.
It all started today, six years ago, when I was about to turn twenty.
I successfully completed the duel, and Beetle judged that I had grown enough to kill Arcadia Nugent.
Because I did well in this duel.
Even if this was the lingering resentment of my remaining life, I didn't want to be driven to kill someone again.
"The Northern Duke Sion Belpast is coming to Laheart the day after tomorrow. As Laheart's dog and especially as the lady's confidant, how could you not know that?"
Black Beetle's voice was colder than the winter north wind.
Blood trickled down my cheek, freezing almost instantly as it met the cold wind.
Yes, such a vivid memory.
In truth, I never wanted to kill anyone.
Whoosh—
Suddenly, without warning, Black Beetle's sword slashed towards me again, as if he didn't care if his sword split me in half.
I dodged his sword just enough to not die, pretending to stumble and fumble.
He cocked his head.
"What's this? Was your earlier movement just a fluke?"
I wanted to do things differently this time, even if only in this memory. I didn't want to be selected to kill the confidant of the Northern Duke.
After a few more threatening strikes with his murderous sword, Beetle, seemingly bored of my mere evasion, sheathed his weapon.
"With that mindset, you couldn't kill even a soldier of the Northern Knights, let alone the North."
"I'm not skilled enough yet."
I glared at him, and he snorted.
"Just by dodging my sword, you've proven your skill, larva."
"!"
"But if you don't want to be deployed in actual combat, you'll fail anyway. Go back to your room and wait for your disposal."
Not being deployed.
I felt ridiculous for being relieved at those words.
After all, I was dead, and this past unfolding before me must be the last dream of the deceased.
In the Duke's mansion's basement.
Before the larva became a butterfly, a shriveled piece of bread was left in front of the door of that old, cramped place.
The usual food given to me.
Swallowing bitterness, I entered the room, lay down on the bed, and closed my eyes.
If I could fall asleep again, would this hell I returned to end?
Then, dignified footsteps sounded from outside the door. The regular rhythm of high heels, unmistakably heading towards me. I recognized her just by the sound.
Medea Laheart.
As soon as I realized this, the hair on my body stood on end. My lung, pierced by her hand just hours ago, remembered the pain and began to leak air again. I instinctively suppressed my gasping breath.
[The real granddaughter of the Emperor is you.]
That fact, which has been pressing on me since I opened my eyes, stabbed my heart again. The golden blade of Lucella flickered before my eyes.
Her steps stopped in front of the door.
"Who dared to put such food in front of my Bella?"
Her voice was as sharp as an ice pick, a tone heard only when she was genuinely angry.
"How many times do I have to tell them to take proper care of this child? The person in this room is my friend before being my subordinate."
Her voice was full of sorrow and dignity.
Ah.
Once, her voice was the only solace in my life. Her words were the lifeline that kept me from drowning in loneliness and solitude.
But the woman outside the door killed me. Even though she knew I was the only blood of the Emperor.
And then she lied that the blood I shed was her blood to become the real granddaughter of the Emperor, not just an adopted one.
Medea didn't stop her anger.
"Bella? Has Bella returned?"
"Yes. She returned just a moment ago, no, she arrived."
Then the sound of the door opening followed, and the clicking of heels.
With her entrance, the room filled with the scent of violet jasmine, a perfume made exclusively for her by the empire's finest perfumer. Her favorite scent.
Chills ran down my spine despite the familiar smell, but I clenched my teeth and pretended to be asleep. For a former Sword Master like me, controlling my breathing and heartbeat was no challenge.
I subdued my breath, as if deeply asleep.
"She has fallen asleep peacefully."
Medea murmured softly. Her long, elegant fingers swept my hair that had fallen over my disfigured cheek.
I wanted to open my eyes right then, grab her, and ask why. But I didn't. I feared that if I opened my eyes now, this dream would end.
Then I would enter eternal rest without learning anything.
"She's deeply asleep."
"I'm sorry, miss. I'll bring some good food right away."
It was the new maid I had seen before going to the training ground. But Medea's voice grew colder.
"You're new here?"
"Yes? Oh, yes. I apologize."
"Bringing good food is your wish, but if you do so, I might kill you."
"What?"