The first rays of sun spilled into the room. Yan's eyes fluttered open. She scanned the chamber, the sight of Shrin sleeping on the couch pulling her attention.
"Shrin…" she whispered, weak and tentative.
Shrin did not stir. Her sleep was deep, unyielding. Pain flared in Yan's body as she tried to move, sharp and insistent. She froze—her wounds were unstitched, fragile in ways only the era's medicine allowed. Every breath careful, she stayed still.
Summoning all her strength, she whispered again, "Shrin."
This time, Shrin's eyes cracked open. The sight of Yan awake nearly unseated her from the couch. She bolted to her side, kneeling to meet her gaze, hands trembling.
"Yan… you're awake," she breathed, disbelief and relief entangled. "How are you feeling?"
Yan slowly pulled back the blanket. Her wounds were tightly bandaged, the pain raw but bearable.
"Yan…" Shrin whispered again. "You… can speak?" She could scarcely believe it, the memory of her once-mute friend breathe words into the air.
Covering herself again, Yan's gaze found Shrin's. "How was…Grand Ersi?" she asked, careful, measured.
Shrin's hand flew to her mouth, shock and wonder mirrored in her wide eyes.
Yan groaned softly, pain biting her ribs.
"Aside from being shocked, Grand Ersi was fine," Shrin whispered.
"How long was I out?"
"Five days. The doctor said it was poison…you lost a lot of blood. I thought you'd never make it."
"Yeah…me too," Yan admitted, a faint smile touching her lips.
Shrin's joy faltered, concern sharpening her expression. "Yan, I'm sorry, but I have to inform Lord Azron that you're awake."
The mention of his name sent a shiver down Yan's spine. She remembered him catching her as she fell from the temple roof. After that…darkness. Nothing.
"He strictly instructed me to inform him first, before Grand Ersi," Shrin added.
"It's okay. You can go," Yan said, offering her a reassuring smile.
Shrin stepped out immediately, racing to find Lord Azron. Yan slowly sat up, bracing herself for his arrival. She knew by now he must have known she could speak. She had to think of a reason, a story to veil the truth. She could never tell him—not yet.
Not yet. Not that she had been an assassin, hired to kill.
The door opened.
Yan's eyes lifted, meeting Lord Azron as he entered, flanked by the physician, who immediately knelt to check her pulse.
The air in the room thickened, charged with unspoken questions, danger, and a tension that felt both terrifying and electric.
Lord Azron's gaze never wavered, fixed on her as silence filled the room.
The physician stepped back, finishing his careful examination. Bowing respectfully to Azron, he spoke softly. "She is stable now. She just needs rest and time for the wounds to heal."
With that, he departed, the door shut behind him, leaving only Lord Azron and Yan in the dimly lit chamber. The quiet that followed was heavy, electric, each breath deliberate.
Azron grabbed a small chair, placed it in front of Yan's bed and lowered himself onto it. The seat groaned under his weight, a sharp crack echoing in the stillness. His robes pooled around him, legs bent, elbows resting on his knees.
Yan's eyes followed every subtle movement, noting the way his eyes squinted—signs of another headache. Months of working alongside him had trained her to read the minute shifts in his expressions when sleep-deprived or strained.
He cleared his throat, trying to settle, then straightened and turned his gaze fully to her, calm yet dangerous.
Yan, leaning lightly against her bed, met his eyes. Her hair had fallen free, soft waves framing her pale, fragile face. She wore white silk that clung to her form, translucent enough to hint at her bare shoulders. The blood loss had drained her strength, dehydration had left her lips dry—but her beauty remained undiminished.
This was different from the girl he'd seen in the government office. Azron's mind caught briefly on it—but he forced himself to look away, to mask the flicker of admiration stirring inside him.
"So…what's your real name?" His voice cut through the quiet, low, controlled, but edged with a cold sharpness that made the room tense. Handsome, commanding, and terrifying all at once.
Yan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden demand.
"Sera… My name's Sera Voren," she finally whispered, the sound fragile yet decisive.
Azron rested his right hand on his knee, listening.
Sera's eyes flicked to his movements, cautious, measuring.
"Care to tell me your story?" His voice remained calm, but every word carried weight, a lethal precision. "Where you came from, and why you made us believe you were mute?" His green eyes locked onto hers, unrelenting, almost predatory.
The intensity of his gaze forced her to craft another lie. The word "assassin" could never touch his ears.
"I… I came from a place called… London," she began carefully, her throat tight. "I don't know exactly where that is from here. All I remember is… I was abducted. When I woke up, I found myself in your carriage." She swallowed hard, his focus pinning her in place. "I didn't speak because I was afraid you'd… kill me. I was spared because everyone assumed I was mute. So I… I pretended, to survive. I… I apologize. I shouldn't have done that."
London?I've never heard that place. Azron's gaze remained locked on her, calculating, scanning for cracks, lies, truth.
He remembered her atop the temple roof, bow in hand, drenched in blood, every motion precise, deadly.
"Anything else?" he asked, testing the waters, daring her to reveal the truth about her abilities, about how she had slaughtered trained assassins alone.
"Yes," she admitted, her voice steadier now.
His gaze snapped back, sharp, demanding.
"I was trained in martial arts," she continued, her hands tightening on the silk. "Girls in my village were often abducted, sold… so my…" She hesitated, disbelief threading her words. "…my father taught me martial arts so I could protect myself."
She paused, heart racing, hoping her explanation would suffice.
Azron studied her carefully, weighing every word, every gesture. Then, after a long, silent beat, he rose.
"Rest. Regain your strength. Report to the government office once you are fully recovered."
And just like that, he turned and left, leaving Sera alone with the soft light of the morning spilling across the floor.
Did he believe me? Her mind raced, worry clawing at her chest as Shrin and Grand Ersi entered the room.
Lord Azron walked slowly toward his own quarters, each step deliberate. The headache still throbbed, a dull drum of pain behind his temples. For now, he chose to accept her words, though trust would not come easily. He could not allow it. Not yet.
A month had passed.
Sera felt newly awakened as she returned to the government office—like stepping back into a place that had once been ordinary, but now held a quiet, dangerous pull.
She had long recovered. The wound that once weakened her had closed completely, leaving no visible trace. But Grand Ersi had been unwavering. She refused to let Sera step outside the Grand's Quarters until she was certain—completely certain—that she was whole again.
Only then did she let her go.
Only then did Sera find herself standing once more before Lord Azron. And the four generals.
Their eyes were already on her. Lingering. Searching.
It made her uneasy—the way they looked at her, like they were trying to understand something that had changed. Like she had become someone unfamiliar to them.
Still, Sera held herself steady. Calm. Composed. She refused to let the tension show, even as it quietly wrapped around her chest.
They weren't close. They had never spoken, never shared anything meaningful.
And yet—
Why did it feel like she had betrayed them?
They had seen her often enough, always standing behind Lord Azron, silent and constant. Somewhere along the way, her presence had become something they expected. Something they had grown used to.
"I want to properly thank you for saving my family." Lord Azron's voice broke through her thoughts, low and composed.
He closed the scroll in his hand, his movements deliberate. "With that, I will bestow you with a reward of whatever you may wish."
The word reward stirred something bright inside her. Her eyes softened, lighting up with quiet hope.
"Any reward?" she asked.
Her voice—gentle, but real—filled the space.
The four generals immediately looked at one another, caught off guard, almost in disbelief that she had spoken at all.
But Lord Azron did not look away from her.
"Anything except… leaving the City."
The softness in her expression faltered.
Just for a moment.
Her lips curved into a faint pout, almost instinctively.
That had been what she wanted.
What her heart had been holding onto.
But she already knew—he would never allow it.
She lowered her gaze, staring at the floor as her thoughts drifted, uncertain, searching for something else.
Across from her, Azron watched quietly. His eyes briefly traced over her manly clothes, lingering for a second longer than necessary, before returning to her face.
Waiting.
"Uhmm…"
He noticed her hesitation immediately. "What is it?" he asked.
Sera took a small breath, gathering her courage.
"I would like to… if you allow it, Lord Azron…" she began softly. "I would like to live outside Mort Mansion. Have a house of my own. Anywhere in the City."
The words left her lips, fragile but resolute.
Azron leaned back slightly, studying her.
"Why? Do you find the mansion too confining?"
"No, of course not," she said quickly, almost afraid he might misunderstand. "I just want to experience the City. You know… I haven't been able to properly admire it ever since coming here." Her voice softened, almost like a quiet confession. "I've always dreamed of living in a beautiful City like this." She paused, her gaze lowering. "To not be surrounded by… walls."
There was a stillness after that.
A delicate kind of silence.
"So you wish to be free?" Lord Azron asked.
A small smile touched his lips—so subtle it could have been missed.
But it wasn't.
The generals noticed.
Their expressions shifted.
And Sera saw it too.
Regret flickered in her chest. She shouldn't have said it that way.
Lord Azron lifted his tea and took a slow sip, his calmness only making her heart feel more uncertain.
Her hope began to fade.
He will never allow it…
Why did I even ask for this?
I should have just asked for gold.
She bit her lower lip, trying to steady herself.
Then—
"Fine."
The word felt almost unreal.
Sera looked up quickly, her eyes widening.
"I will reward you with a house in the City. But…"
Her breath caught softly.
"But…?"
"You will continue with your duties here."
Relief spread through her, warm and sudden. She nodded immediately, a smile forming before she could stop it.
"Yes—"
"And…"
Her heart tightened again.
"And what…?" Please don't change your mind…
"Be sure to inform my grandmother."
The tension eased.
"Yes, Lord Azron!" she said, bowing, her voice brighter now.
Her excitement slipped through, soft but unmistakable. When she straightened, she glanced at the four generals. They were looking at her differently now. Not with judgment. But with quiet amazement. At her courage. In the way she had asked for something so bold—and been granted it.
…
Sera immediately informed Grand Ersi of her wish, and to her surprise, she allowed it. There was no resistance. No force. Only understanding. Sera promised she would always come back to visit her.
"Wow… Lord Azron is surprisingly generous," Sera said softly, standing beside Shrin at the gate of her new house.
The house was not far from Mort Mansion, and not too far from the market either—close enough to remain connected, yet distant enough to feel like something new.
Something of her own.
They stepped inside together, curiosity guiding their movements. The moment Sera saw it, her breath softened. The house was beautiful.
Not too big.
Not too small.
Just enough.
Everything she needed was already there, as if someone had carefully thought of her comfort before she even arrived.
"Grand Ersi had this place prepared," Shrin said with a smile. "She even provided you with the furniture and all the food in the kitchen."
Sera moved through the house quietly, her fingers brushing against surfaces, taking everything in. Then she opened another door. It led to a garden. Her steps slowed.
There, in the center, stood a gazebo—simple, elegant, inviting. A place meant for quiet conversations, for moments shared.
The entire house was surrounded by a tall gate, woven with star jasmine. The air carried its faint, sweet scent.
Sera felt something inside her settle.
She was… happy.
Satisfied.
This was the house Lord Azron had given her.
Night came quietly.
Shrin had already returned to Mort Mansion, leaving Sera alone in the stillness of her new home.
She stood in the garden, her eyes lifting to the night sky.
The distant sounds of the City reached her—faint, alive—but for the first time since she arrived here, she felt something she hadn't realized she was truly missing.
Genuine peace. A kind of peace different from what she felt around Mort Mansion.
A gentle, unfamiliar peace. Being outside the Mansion walls… it felt different. Lighter.
Drawn by instinct, she climbed gracefully onto the roof of the house, her movements quiet and fluid. From there, she looked out over the City.
It was truly vast.
Surrounded by towering walls—the great Mort City gate. Torches lined its length, their flames flickering like stars caught on stone. Four main entrances stood guarded—East, West, North, and South—each protected by one of the great generals.
Sera stood there, still and thoughtful.
I successfully left Mort Mansion gate…
Now, I must be able to get past the great walls of Mort City.
Unbeknownst to her—
Lord Azron stood at the South gate watch tower.
Watching her.