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Chapter 2
People say that when death approaches, one begins to look back on their life.
One of Adora’s comrades once said that it was in the moments before death that a person felt most alive. Everyone had called him crazy for saying something so absurd, but Adora thought there was some truth to it.
She had been looking back on her life constantly.
And her memories always returned to a time long ago, when her world had been filled with nothing but happiness.
Her father had been gentle and kind. Her mother had devoted herself entirely to her family’s happiness.
Adora had grown up as a beloved little girl, showered with affection by both of them.
Her thick red hair fell all the way to her chest, swaying as she ran about. A bright smile was always hanging from her delicate face. The sight of her toddling around while waving her tiny hands was enough to melt the hearts of her parents and the servants alike.
Lady Alfred would embrace her daughter, who looked exactly like her younger self, and smile with delight.
Then Adora would burst into laughter and snuggle deeper into her mother’s arms.
“Adora, I heard you skipped your embroidery lesson again and went to the sword training grounds. Is that true?”
At her mother’s question, Adora’s eyes widened.
Her large eyes blinked rapidly before she awkwardly looked away.
“W-Well…”
She fidgeted with both hands and rolled her eyes around.
Seeing that reaction, Lady Alfred immediately knew the rumor was true.
A sigh escaped her lips.
“I-It was only this once! I won’t do it again!”
Flapping her tiny hands desperately, Adora tried to appease her mother.
Lady Alfred gave a melancholy smile.
“I wish you would hold flowers instead of a sword, Adora.”
Her daughter had inherited the Alfred bloodline strongly.
Unlike other girls her age who loved pretty things and dolls, Adora had always been fascinated by swordsmanship, and she possessed an exceptional talent for it.
But in the end, she was still a girl.
The family already had a son who would inherit the household.
A daughter living her life with a sword in hand was simply not something society would allow.
Moreover, no parent wished for their child to carry a blade and wander battlefields where death could come at any moment.
One day, Adora would have to give up what she loved.
Knowing the sorrow her daughter would eventually face, Lady Alfred wanted to redirect her interests while she still could.
“Why can’t I do something I like?”
“There are things in this world that you can love and still never be allowed to do.”
“That’s too hard to understand.”
“You may not understand now, but one day you will. And when that day comes, I hope you’ll realize that everything I say is for your sake.”
Adora didn’t truly understand.
Still, seeing the sadness in her mother’s eyes, she simply nodded.
Lady Alfred hugged her daughter once more and rubbed her cheek affectionately against hers.
It had been a peaceful world.
The era of war had become little more than a distant page in history.
Though the Alfred family was renowned for its martial tradition, times were so peaceful that Lady Alfred believed neither her daughter nor her infant son needed to become knights.
But her wish would be denied in the cruelest possible way.
That night, the familiar scenery felt strangely terrifying.
The warm air carried the scent of blood.
The usually quiet mansion seemed unnaturally noisy.
It was on that strange night that Adora awoke to her mother’s voice.
Still wearing only a thin nightgown beneath a hastily thrown-on coat, her mother was shaking her awake.
“My dear, wake up. Quickly.”
“Mother…”
Half asleep, Adora sat up.
Her mother offered no explanation.
She did not say why she had been awakened or what had happened.
Instead, she urgently pulled Adora from the bed.
Still dazed, Adora had no choice but to follow.
Leading her into the adjacent room, Lady Alfred approached a wooden cabinet built into one wall.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Adora watched as her mother frantically searched along the stones beside it.
Her hair was disheveled.
She wore only a wrinkled nightgown.
One of her shoes was missing.
Normally, her mother would have scolded such an undignified appearance.
But not tonight.
After pressing several stones in succession, Lady Alfred finally found the right one.
With a click, the cabinet swung open, revealing a hidden compartment.
Before Adora could even react, her mother pushed her inside.
The space was far too small for an adult but perfectly sized for a child.
“Adora, no matter what happens, you must not come out. Do you understand?”
“Mother? Mother!”
Panicked, Adora looked up at her.
Moonlight passed across her mother’s rigid face.
Yet when she looked down at Adora, the same gentle smile as always appeared.
“Be a good girl, my dear.”
Her soft whisper followed.
Then the door clicked shut.
Her beloved mother’s face disappeared from sight.
After a brief silence, her mother’s footsteps receded.
Soon afterward, someone entered the room.
Was it Father?
Adora groped at the door.
It wouldn’t budge.
Apparently it could only be opened from the outside.
She had no idea who had entered.
Her mother’s footsteps stopped.
Only the stranger’s remained.
Feeling trapped, Adora continued feeling around the hidden door until she noticed a tiny gap.
She pressed her eye against it.
Through the narrow opening, she could see her mother standing with her back turned.
And beyond her stood a stranger.
A man.
He was larger than her mother, his face partially concealed beneath a black mask.
Clad entirely in black, he seemed like darkness itself.
Her mother shouted angrily at him.
The man responded calmly.
The contrast felt strange.
Why was Mother angry?
Who was this man?
Young Adora’s curiosity stirred.
But it didn’t last long.
The man took a step forward.
Something flashed in the moonlight.
Adora blinked.
A sword.
The instant she realized it, the blade moved without hesitation.
Thrust.
A sickening sound followed.
Her mother’s body jerked.
Her beautiful red hair swayed.
Staggering, she reached out and grabbed the man.
As if clutching a lifeline, she grasped his shoulder.
Her trembling hand found the mask covering his face.
It looked difficult even to hold on.
Then her body collapsed.
And as she fell, the mask was torn away.
The revealed face was young.
But Adora had never seen him before.
The man showed no sign of panic despite his exposed face.
He simply lowered his gaze.
Adora looked down as well.
Her mother’s red hair lay scattered across the white nightgown and the spotless floor.
One hand clutched her abdomen.
Her chest rose and fell unnaturally.
The man looked down at her without emotion.
If anything, his face seemed to say he had expected this outcome.
When her hand weakly reached toward him, he casually knocked it aside with the tip of his sword, as if it were an annoyance.
Then he raised the blade again.
Adora’s lips trembled.
Mother…
Her mother did not answer.
The sword pierced her chest without hesitation.
Her body twitched.
Then gradually became still.
The man watched until she no longer moved.
Only then did he withdraw the blade.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
Yet not a single stain seemed to remain on his black clothes.
He bent down and picked up the mask her mother had torn away.
Then he glanced around the room.
The thought that a little girl might be hiding inside a cabinet never crossed his mind.
After a brief inspection, he turned and left.
Before exiting, he remembered to put the mask back on.
Adora couldn’t take her eyes off her mother.
Through the narrow crack, all she could see was the motionless figure lying on the floor.
She couldn’t even see her face.
It looked as though she were sleeping.
Adora wanted to rush outside and wake her.
Surely then her mother would smile gently and embrace her, just as she always had.
But that never happened.
The half-closed door creaked.
Sounds drifted in from beyond.
Hurried footsteps.
Crashes.
People stumbling and falling.
Desperate screams begging for mercy.
The entire world was filled with shrieks.
It was a night of hell that seemed destined to last forever.
And somehow—
Adora survived.
Only Adora survived.
The incident became widely known as “The Tragedy of House Alfred.”
Everyone who heard the story lamented the same thing.
Who could have committed such a cruel act against a family that had known only happiness?
Few survivors remained, and most were unconscious.
Those who were awake couldn’t provide useful descriptions because the attackers had hidden their faces.
The killers were professionals as well, leaving behind almost no evidence.
The investigation quickly reached a dead end.
Still, one piece of fortunate news spread through the kingdom.
The daughter of House Alfred had survived.
While searching the mansion, rescuers had heard a strange noise coming from a cabinet hidden in one room.
When they broke it open, they found the young girl unconscious inside.
Adora remained bedridden for two full days before waking.
The adults waited until she had recovered enough before questioning her about what had happened.
Of course, Adora remembered everything.
She remembered the face of the man who had murdered her mother with perfect clarity.
But she could not tell them.
Instinct warned her not to.
If she spoke, something terrible might happen.
Though she didn’t fully understand what she had witnessed, even her young self knew it was no ordinary crime.
“I don’t remember anything.”
In the end, she chose to lie.
She was afraid.
Afraid that if she told the truth, that man might come back to kill her too.
Faced with a nameless terror, Adora surrendered.
The adults comforted her.
Given the horrific circumstances, it was easy to believe that the shock had erased her memories.
Perhaps it was better not to remember.
No one realized she was lying.
The surviving members of the Alfred family conducted the funeral in her stead.
Not only the Alfreds but the servants who had died alongside them were laid to rest.
The funeral was filled with mournful weeping.
Everyone grieved the terrible tragedy.
And everyone looked upon Adora—the lone survivor—with sorrow.
Standing among the crying adults, Adora merely stared blankly ahead.
Perhaps the killers had heard the rumors that the last surviving Alfred had lost her memory.
Or perhaps they had simply lost interest.
Whatever the reason, they never appeared again.
The nightmares continued for a while.
Adora would wake trembling, afraid the man who had murdered her mother would come for her next.
Yet despite those fears, she gradually returned to daily life.
But the lie she had told became a curse.
It tightened around her year after year.
Not a single day passed peacefully after that.
The nightmares returned like recurring headaches, preventing her from ever forgetting.
The unresolved fear continued to torment her.
Pretending not to remember may have saved her life—
but she never escaped those memories even once.
And as time passed, what remained inside her was no longer fear of death.
Nor was it grief for the family she had lost.
What remained was hatred.
And so, in the year Adora turned thirteen,
she finally learned who had destroyed the people she loved most.
