The forest had grown quiet again.
Only the river continued its calm journey through the valley, as if the violence that had just happened meant nothing to it.
Seven lifeless bodies lay on the ground.
The smell of blood mixed with the cold night air.
Princess Mirza Aurelia Valemont stood frozen near the riverbank, her hands trembling slightly.
She had never seen anything like this before.
Yes, she had seen knights train in the palace courtyard.
She had watched soldiers spar during ceremonies.
But this...
This was different.
The fight had lasted less than ten seconds.
Seven armed men had attacked at once.
And the man in front of her had defeated them as if they were nothing.
He hadn't even looked tired.
Mirza slowly raised her eyes toward him.
The man had already turned away from the bodies.
His black sword rested quietly in his hand.
The blade seemed to absorb the faint moonlight instead of reflecting it.
He began walking toward the small cabin beside the river.
Mirza hesitated.
Her mind was full of questions.
Fear.
Confusion.
And something else...
Recognition.
Her eyes slowly moved toward his right hand again.
The scar.
A strange symbol burned into the skin.
She knew that mark.
She was certain of it.
But before she could say anything, the man suddenly stopped walking.
Without turning around, he spoke calmly.
"If you keep standing there..."
"...wolves might come."
Mirza blinked.
"W-Wolves?"
The man shrugged slightly.
"This forest has many."
He glanced over his shoulder.
"And they like the smell of blood."
Mirza immediately looked back at the bodies and quickly followed him.
"I-I'm coming!"
The man continued walking without waiting.
They reached the small wooden cabin within a few moments.
The house was simple.
Very simple.
A single floor.
Rough wooden walls.
A small chimney releasing faint smoke.
It looked nothing like the grand palaces Mirza had grown up in.
The man opened the door and stepped inside.
Mirza stopped at the entrance.
She suddenly felt nervous.
Was it safe to enter?
She barely knew this man.
He had just killed seven people without hesitation.
But the cold wind of the night pushed her forward.
Slowly... she stepped inside.
The room was warm.
A small fire burned inside a stone fireplace.
There was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf filled with a few books.
It was the home of someone who lived alone.
The man placed his sword carefully beside the wall.
Mirza watched him closely.
He moved with the calm habits of someone who had done the same routine many times.
As if tonight had been just another ordinary evening.
He picked up a kettle and poured water into two cups.
Then he placed one cup in front of Mirza.
"Sit."
His voice wasn't rude.
But it wasn't welcoming either.
Mirza sat down slowly.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The fire crackled softly in the background.
Finally, the man spoke.
"You're not from around here."
Mirza blinked.
"...What?"
He sat across from her.
"Your clothes."
"Your accent."
"And the way you run."
He lifted his cup.
"Only nobles run like that."
Mirza lowered her eyes.
She didn't know what to say.
Should she reveal her identity?
Or stay silent?
The man studied her quietly.
Then he sighed.
"Relax."
"I'm not interested in who you are."
Mirza looked up in surprise.
"You're... not?"
He shook his head.
"No."
He pointed toward the door.
"You were being chased."
"You escaped."
"That's enough for me."
Mirza clenched her hands slightly.
"But..."
She hesitated.
"...those men said something."
The man took a sip from his cup.
"What did they say?"
Mirza swallowed nervously.
"They said..."
"...Duke Valemont ordered them to kill me."
For the first time, the man's eyes changed slightly.
Just for a moment.
A very small moment.
But Mirza noticed it.
He placed the cup back on the table.
"Duke Valemont..."
He repeated the name quietly.
Mirza leaned forward.
"You know him?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the fireplace.
The flames reflected in his dark eyes.
"...Yes."
His voice had become colder.
"I know him."
Mirza suddenly gathered the courage to speak.
"Then please... help me."
The man looked back at her.
"Help you?"
She nodded quickly.
"Yes!"
"My name is Mirza Aurelia Valemont."
"I'm the princess of Holyda Kingdom."
The man's expression didn't change.
Mirza continued desperately.
"The Duke controls the entire kingdom."
"The ministers obey him."
"Even the king cannot stop him."
She lowered her voice.
"And if I die..."
"He will take the throne."
Silence filled the room.
The man stared at her for several seconds.
Then he spoke.
"You should go back to your kingdom."
Mirza blinked.
"...What?"
He stood up.
"This has nothing to do with me."
Mirza stood up too.
"But you saw what happened!"
"If I return alone, they'll kill me!"
The man walked toward the window.
"That's not my problem."
Mirza felt her chest tighten.
"Why are you saying that?!"
"You're clearly a knight!"
The man's voice suddenly turned sharp.
"I was."
The room fell silent.
Mirza froze.
The man slowly turned toward her again.
His expression was colder than before.
"I'm not a knight anymore."
Mirza stared at him.
"But..."
Her eyes slowly moved toward his hand again.
Toward the scar.
The symbol she recognized.
Her heart began beating faster.
Slowly... carefully... she asked:
"Then tell me something."
The man raised an eyebrow.
"What."
Mirza pointed toward his right hand.
"That scar."
"Where did you get it?"
The man looked down at his hand.
For a few seconds, he didn't answer.
Then he said quietly.
"Long ago."
Mirza's voice became softer.
"I've seen that mark before."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly.
"In a book."
Mirza took a deep breath.
"The book said only one order of knights carried that mark."
The room felt heavier.
The fire crackled in the silence.
Mirza looked directly at him.
"The order of the Shadow Knight."
The man said nothing.
Mirza's voice trembled slightly.
"There was only one Shadow Knight who disappeared ten years ago."
Her heart pounded.
"...Rob Albrecht."
The man slowly lifted his eyes.
Their gazes met.
For a long moment...
Neither of them spoke.
Then the man turned away again.
"You should sleep."
Mirza blinked.
"...What?"
He pointed toward a small room.
"You can stay here tonight."
"Tomorrow morning you leave."
Mirza clenched her fists.
"So you won't help me?"
The man didn't answer.
Instead he walked toward the wooden chest near the wall.
For a brief moment, Mirza saw the black sword resting inside.
The weapon that had cut through seven men like shadows.
The weapon of a legend.
Mirza whispered quietly to herself.
"...It really is you."
But the man pretended not to hear.
And outside the cabin...
The wind carried the distant sound of approaching horses.
The Duke's hunt...
Was not over yet.