Golden light descended from the window, casting a soft, warm glow in the room, emphasizing the dark ink stains on the otherwise polished desk surface. An abundance of papers were stacked neatly, and sitting at the desk was Emilia. She sat poised, maintaining her perfect posture effortlessly. Her dark scarlet hair fell neatly on her shoulders, a contrast to her clear, pale skin. She possessed deep red eyes—and people who stared into them were unsure if they were being observed or disregarded.
She sat with a neutral expression on her face, glossing over the papers. Then, the door opened, and a man entered. He was lean, hardened, his expression unreadable. A black cloth wrapped around his right eye, obscured whatever was beneath it.
"Have you found any good candidates?" he asked.
"None worth my time," she retorted.
The man stayed silent for a moment before pulling out a piece of paper tucked in his bag.
"I think you'll find this boy rather intriguing," he commented as he handed the paper to her.
She slowly grabbed the paper, already expecting another disappointment.
"Tell me," she mused, while unfolding the document, "is he really worth my time? Or are you perhaps just trying to earn my favor?" she asked as she began scanning the contents of the paper.
Her gaze slightly narrowed as she set the paper down, looking up, her gaze piercing through him.
"What's wrong with him?" she asked simply.
"What do you mean?" The man slightly tensed, although he did see this conversation coming.
"A candidate of this caliber would've been taken by the Imperials. So why hasn't he?" she asked, resting her chin in her palm, watching him carefully.
"Oh yes, he is promising indeed, but well…" He averted his gaze for a second.
Emilia didn't waver. "Well, what?"
The man paused, trying to think of something to say.
"You're stalling…" Emilia said softly, yet firmly.
"He… has no records," the man finally replied.
Emilia paused, a smirk slowly forming on her face.
"None… at all?"
He swallowed, "None."
Emilia stayed silent before turning her back to the man and facing the window, though not to contemplate. She didn't need to think about her decision. It was already made—someone like this, who was unclaimed and unrecorded—it was no accident. Somehow, he had slipped through the cracks. And she intended on finding out how.
"I'll take him," she said finally.
She was going to discover the truth about this candidate. After all, no one had escaped her before.