Chapter 8
Chapter 8
The morning in the slums always began with the acrid smell of burning kindling and the squelch of rotting water.
But today, Camellia’s steps were lighter and more careful than ever.
Cradled gently in her frail arms was a basket, precious to her.
Inside, though small and unremarkable in appearance, were a few red apples she had carefully polished dozens of times with her sleeves until they gleamed.
Last night, Narsus had come home, heavily drunk and in high spirits, and had cheerfully pressed a few coins into her hands while humming a tune.
“Here, this is for our little girl… no! For the upkeep of the precious young lady! Buy whatever you want to eat or hold! Got it?”
Camellia, staring at the fruit bought with that mysterious “allowance,” unconsciously smiled faintly as she remembered Narsus’s face from the night before.
Keeping the light smile on her lips, she made her way straight to the herb shop tucked in the corner of the alley.
“Sir, thank you… truly. For saving us.”
She timidly extended the basket of apples. The gruff-faced herb shop owner cleared his throat and accepted it.
“Tch. You poor things, buying this. Make sure you give that foolish one his medicine properly! And if he climbs the mountain at night again, consider it a warning: he dies by my hand first.”
His words were harsh and gruff, yet beneath the scolding lay a warmth that comforted.
For some reason, even the cold mud seeping into her shoes and the sharp stench of the alley were bearable today.
‘Yes, as long as I’m not caught…’
As long as she thoroughly hid the fact that she could use magic.
If she could quietly serve as a humble carrier beside the foolish man who devoted everything to her without question, living unnoticed…
Even with the terrible shackles of being the bloodline of a traitor, perhaps this small, insignificant peace could last a little longer.
In this narrow alley where the poor shared warmth, she believed that even the horrors of her past would not find her.
With that fragile and earnest hope in her heart, she took a step forward.
And at that exact moment…
Clatter.
Cutting through the thick, foul air of the slums came the heavy, out-of-place sound of a carriage approaching.
Camellia froze in place.
At the mouth of the narrow alley, a massive carriage adorned with intricate and lavish decorations slid to a halt, blocking the path.
Reflexively, Camellia ducked and tried to hide to the side.
But with a clunk, the carriage door opened. A man draped in a lavish silk cloak stepped out, carefully avoiding the mud, and immediately blocked her path.
“Oh? My eyes do not deceive me.”
The voice fell upon her head, oily and familiar, yet sending a shiver straight to her heart, like a spike driven in at once.
“Who is this? Could it really be the Golden Rose of the continent, Lady Camellia?”
Her breath caught in her throat.
Shivering in terror, she slowly lifted her head, meeting the serpent-like face of the man arrogantly raising his chin.
Baron Drake.
The man who, back when the Valentine family prospered, had daily showered Camellia with hundreds of roses in pursuit of her favor.
The one who had sworn eternal love and promised to give anything, flattering her with sweet words.
“Dr-Drake… Baron… sir…”
A hoarse, metallic voice escaped from Camellia’s pale, trembling lips.
In mockery of her reaction, Drake clapped his hands together exaggeratedly, a slimy smile curling his lips.
“Ah, the Golden Rose herself! How quaint! And to think you hid like a rat among filth in the gutters all this time.”
His gaze treated her like dirt, as though she were beneath even the muck on the streets.
The prideful joy and superiority of a nobleman watching the fallen lady of the past, now rolling in the mud, was plain on his face.
“Tsk, tsk. Pitiful, indeed. Seeing those tattered clothes and that filthy face… nothing but a common gutter whore, huh? Selling herself to the vermin of the alleys every night?”
Click.
A gold coin flicked from Drake’s hand landed helplessly in the mud at Camellia’s feet.
Seeing the golden shine tarnish in the filth, he snickered.
“Here, consider it alms for old times. Pick it up. And why don’t you show me that vile act you performed nightly for the gutter vermin?”
The coin sank, grimy with filth.
“Baron… what are you doing…?”
“What? You don’t still think you’re some noble lady, do you? Right now, you’re a worm beneath my feet, and you’ll be crushed if I choose.”
He grinned maliciously as he continued.
“But perhaps, depending on how prettily you wag your tail on the muddy floor, your life might be spared. Consider this carefully if you don’t want your parents to meet the same fate.”
Camellia froze, as if forgetting how to breathe.
“A…ah…”
Her pupils contracted violently, her vision twisting.
Auditory hallucinations ripped through her mind once more.
『Kill those traitors!』
『Take them to the guillotine!!』
On that hellish day when her family fell, Baron Drake did not protect Camellia but instead betrayed the Valentine family without hesitation to save his own life and position.
He led the attack against her parents, branding her family as traitors and tearing them apart.
The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils.
The guillotine echoed through the air.
Her parents’ heads tumbled.
The mocking, scornful gazes of people crashed over her like waves of crimson, squeezing her thin breath cruelly.
‘I must hide… show nothing…’
The thought repeated itself in her mind, over and over.
‘I can’t… can’t be found out…’
But it was too late.
‘…Even my only sanctuary has been shattered.’
At that moment, the silver mana lying dormant deep in Camellia’s core surged violently, driven by instinct to survive.
The voices from the past warped into something else in her ears.
[Just kill them.]
‘Yes… if I just kill that man and erase all traces, perhaps I could continue hiding. Pretend nothing happened, return to the warm days.’
Yet Camellia desperately restrained the mana, biting her lips until they bled.
‘No! I mustn’t… do anything.’
If she revealed her power, the demonic nobles would surely burn the slums to the ground to hunt her.
And the foolish, warm-hearted man who had cared for her… would also be reduced to ashes.
That horrible thought pierced her, filling her with despair.
…
A person who had experienced shackles and marks.
Even to grasp that old doorknob required more courage than one might think.
So she hesitated.
For a long time.
Finally, she stepped outside.
She had almost been torn apart by starving wolves in the night,
And Narsus, trying to save her, had collapsed vomiting blood.
Today, she had only intended to give a simple fruit as a token of thanks…
Yet the specter of the past had crawled here, clutching her neck.
Every small step toward the outside world mocked her, dragging her into a pit of unimaginable misfortune.
A quiet, ordinary life…
Even that fragile hope had been a luxury denied to the bloodline of traitors.
The intense terror etched into her soul bound her hands and feet tightly.
She trembled, unable to even think of fleeing, crouched like an animal on the cold, muddy ground, arms wrapped around her head.
“Yes, yes! Stay flat! Now you finally know your place.”
Drake prodded her frail shoulders with the shiny tip of his polished shoes, taunting with a bitter grin.
His shoe moved toward Camellia’s crown, ready to trample her platinum hair and bury her noble face into the filthy mud.
‘Finally… I thought I might survive again… but it was just an illusion.’
Completely despairing, Camellia squeezed her eyes shut. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘Maybe it would have been better if I’d died with my parents on the guillotine that day…’
[Kill her.]
[Kill her.]
[Kill her.]
[Kill her.]
The voices in her head grew louder, drilling into her ears.
‘Yes. End it all here. There was never any peace granted to me.’
A faint light passed over Camellia’s lifeless pupils.
From her hands, buried in the foul mud,
A pure, noble silver radiance rose like a mirage.
Thwack!
Someone seized Camellia’s mud-caked wrist with force.
The murderous mana coursing through her melted like snow under the rough, warm touch of a single hand.
Camellia and Drake turned their eyes to the same spot.
There, gasping heavily, stood her foolish master.
“Haa… haa… Rule #1 of investment. Never lose money. Don’t you understand?”
“N-Narsus!?”
“The principal hasn’t even recovered the capital yet, you fool.”