Rebecca walked with Draven to the dining room, the air between them calmer than it had been in the morning. The butler had already laid out lunch, a simple but filling meal. As they sat down, Rebecca noticed Draven glancing at her now and then, still cautious but no longer as tense.
They ate quietly, but the atmosphere wasn't unpleasant. It was as if the weight of their earlier exchanges had lightened a bit, allowing them to share this moment in relative peace. Rebecca appreciated the small progress, however subtle it was.
After finishing the meal, Draven excused himself to his room. "I need to clean," he explained. "It's my cleaning day, and it'll take a while."
Rebecca nodded, watching him leave. She was a little surprised that such a small boy was expected to clean his own room all by himself, but she kept her thoughts to herself for now. As soon as Draven disappeared from view, she made her way to the kitchen, where the butler was busy washing dishes.
She approached him quietly, then asked, "Can I speak with you?"
The butler turned to her, drying his hands with a cloth before giving her his full attention.
"What kind of education is normal for a child of Draven's age?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. "And are there any plans for him?"
The butler sighed heavily, a sign that her question had touched upon a sensitive topic. "To be honest, there are no proper plans for his education, my lady. Lord Valen… well, he wasn't interested in schooling, not in the traditional sense."
Rebecca's expression tightened as she listened. She already had an idea where this was going, but she needed to hear it out.
Rebecca listened intently as the butler continued, her concern deepening with every word.
"Draven started his training when he was only five years old," the butler revealed, his voice tinged with a quiet sadness. "It was Lord Valen's subordinate who trained him. The training... it was harsh. Too harsh for someone so young. Draven often came back bruised, bleeding, and crying. His small body wasn't ready for what they put him through, but he endured it as best as he could."
Rebecca's heart sank. The thought of a five-year-old boy being subjected to such brutality made her stomach twist.
"But after a year, the teacher was called back to Lord Valen," the butler continued. "No one knows where Lord Valen is now, not even his closest men. Since then, the training stopped. It's been over a year now, and though Draven still remembers it all too well, he hasn't had to endure that kind of suffering again. It's... a relief, honestly. I hated seeing him suffer like that. He's just a child."
Rebecca's mind raced as she processed the information. Draven had been through so much, more than any child should. She knew from the novel that Lord Valen had a twisted plan for his son, molding him into a ruthless successor. It was clear now that Valen had started that training early, trying to strip away Draven's humanity before it had a chance to take root. But something—or someone—had interrupted that dark path.
"Did I do anything to stop it?" Rebecca asked, keeping her tone measured, even though her thoughts were swirling. "I mean… my previous self. Was I not against this training?"
The butler hesitated, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. "You… you did try to oppose it. You spoke against it several times. But Lord Valen didn't listen, and nothing changed. The young master continued his training until the teacher was suddenly called back."
Rebecca felt a wave of frustration rise within her. When the butler was talking about his brutal way of being educated, she remembered an important part mentioned in the middle of the novel. She remembered from the novel that the woman whose body she now inhabited had been more of a passive observer in her own life. While she had spoken out against Draven's treatment, she had ultimately done nothing to stop it. She had stood by, watching as the boy was broken down, but never actively intervened.
Of course, Rebecca couldn't reveal any of this. She was still playing the part of someone with memory loss. But it made her all the more determined. This time would be different.
"I see," Rebecca said softly, hiding her true emotions behind a mask of calm. "It's... good to know I tried."
Inside, however, she was seething. She wouldn't just try to protect Draven; she would make sure he was safe, nurtured, and given the chance to be a child. No one, not even Lord Valen, would be able to push Draven back onto the path of violence and cruelty if she had anything to say about it.
She thanked the butler and turned to leave, her thoughts spinning with plans. Draven's training may have been halted for now, but who knew when Valen might return? Rebecca had to act swiftly, but delicately. She needed to gain Draven's trust first, ease him into a different way of life, and slowly guide him away from the shadows his father had cast.
Rebecca made her way down the long, dimly lit corridor toward the library.
The butler had mentioned its existence, but only in passing, as if it were something Rebecca would already know about. And indeed, her body did seem to remember it, instinctively guiding her through the halls, past creaking floors, until she stood in front of the grand, imposing door.
This library, however, wasn't just any room. It was sealed by magic, accessible only to a select few. Only those with specific permissions could enter. Rebecca, Valen, and the princess.
She hesitated before reaching out her hand. She wasn't sure if it would work—if the magic would recognize her as the Rebecca who once owned this body, or if it would sense that she was different now, an intruder in someone else's skin. Her heart beat a little faster as her palm hovered just over the door's surface, feeling a faint, tingling hum of power radiating from the wood.
Taking a steadying breath, Rebecca pressed her hand against the door.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the intricate carvings on the wood began to glow with a faint, golden light. The symbols shifted and moved as if they were alive, responding to her touch. The lock clicked softly, and the door creaked open, revealing the library beyond.
She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
The air inside was thick with the smell of old parchment and leather-bound books. Tall shelves lined every wall, filled with tomes that were undoubtedly filled with secrets—spells, histories, and knowledge of this world and perhaps even beyond. The room was dimly lit by the afternoon sun filtering in through high, narrow windows, casting long shadows across the floor.
Rebecca stepped inside, her eyes sweeping over the room.
She moved slowly between the shelves, running her fingers over the spines of the books, many of which bore titles in languages she didn't have any idea about.
Rebecca's fingers brushed against a particular book, one that seemed older than the others, with a strange symbol etched into its cover. Something about it called to her, a faint echo of familiarity. She pulled it from the shelf and opened it, revealing delicate pages filled with handwritten notes.
As she scanned the contents, a name caught her eye. Draven.
It was an account, written in Valen's hand, detailing the early stages of his plans for his son. The words were cold, calculating, devoid of any fatherly affection. Valen had intended to shape Draven into a perfect weapon, a tool to continue his dark legacy. Rebecca's heart clenched as she read the cruel instructions—about how to break a child's spirit, how to strip away his humanity.
She slammed the book shut, unable to read any more.
This book made her angry. She wanted to rewrite the fate of this child, to stop him from becoming the villain he was destined to be.