TRLN 03

Chapter 03

At the edge of a towering cliff, amid a knife-sharp wind that sliced at the skin, someone lay perfectly still, holding their breath.

Vivian Rosethea, her golden-thread-like hair tied up, lay prone as she supported the long barrel of a rifle.

—Sis, are you ready?

Trees swayed violently in the howling wind. Bracing the rifle with her elbow to keep it steady, Vivian pressed the small receiver tucked into her ear.

“Don’t talk to me.”

She snapped coldly and pressed her small lips together. With the distinctive features of a Rosethea native, her large golden eyes and straight nose did not create an unparalleled beauty—but they were perfectly lovely.

That such a lovely-looking woman was aiming a gun was, naturally, jarring. Even more so because she looked practiced, as if she had received professional training.

—Why~? Why are you cold again?

Vivian tugged once at her hair with a gloved hand, fixing it more firmly in place. The wind was fierce, and the loose strands were irritating.

—Sis? Why aren’t you answering? Sis?

“……”

—You said you’re bad with the cold—did you really freeze up?

With a crackle of static came the sound of someone crudely smacking the receiver. Having reached the end of her patience, Vivian frowned deeply.

“Shut up.”

—What? So you’re not broken? Then just answer me properly.

“Focus. This isn’t the time to joke around.”

Leaving the grumbling Tabe behind, Vivian adjusted her position once more.

They had planned an audacious operation: the assassination of the newly appointed governor en route to Rosethea. As always, Vivian was in charge of sniping, while Tabe handled close combat.

There were many reasons to carry out such a reckless plan. They needed to show something—to stop the Empire’s oppression, which grew worse by the day. And above all…

While Vivian was lost in thought, the sound of an automobile drifted up from afar.

Clearing her mind, Vivian aimed through the scope at the rear window. Inside, a man was leaning against the glass, dozing. She clenched her hand once, then relaxed it, and placed her finger on the trigger. As she held her breath, the silver bracelet around her wrist gradually came to a stop as well.

She would only get one clean chance. In Vivian’s world, everything except herself and the target slowly faded away. She paused her breathing.

And in the moment when only the two of them remained in the world—

Bang!

Startled birds fluttered into the air. The acrid smell stung her nose.

The car she had shot continued forward for a few more seconds before screeching to a halt by the roadside.

—Good shot. Your aim’s still solid, sis.

“It has to be. If I don’t want to shoot your head.”

The carriage and cars following behind stopped as well, and people poured out.

“What’s going on?”

“The governor is bleeding! He’s collapsed!”

“It looks… fatal.”

“Damn it!”

“It’s a terrorist attack! It must be them! Prepare yourselves! You vermin!”

From atop the cliff, Vivian looked down at the chaos below with eyes as sharp as honed blades.

In her hazy childhood memories, only the earth-shaking explosions, horrific screams, and gunfire were etched deep into her mind.

The three survivors tried to build a close-knit family and find happiness even after losing their country—but the Empire’s tyranny did not end there. Less than a year later, the family was torn apart. One went to the afterlife. Another vanished to a place unknown even fifteen years later.

Even the smallest happiness was denied to the losers of war. It was cruel for a seven-year-old Vivian—but that was reality.

The memories of that dreadful day were still vivid: the day her mother died before her eyes, the day her younger sibling was taken from her, the day she saw everything yet could do nothing.

And so, she could never forget that name either. The man who caused all of this tragedy. The man who dragged Vivian’s peaceful life into hell in an instant. The Empire’s First Prince, said to have gone missing at the end of the war.

Vivian, who knew well how the man behind the white mask and the Trahaput Empire had brought down the Kingdom of Rosethea, spoke slowly, pressing each word down.

“Go now. I’ll provide support.”

—Okay.

“A—aaah!”

After Tabe answered with a chuckle, screams erupted from the corner of the road near the bushes. With flashes of steel, the blood of the governor’s entourage sprayed into the air.

It was a winter dawn, the moment peace was shattered.

Once every half month, a puppet show was held in the plaza.

“We respect the Kingdom of Rosethea! If the kingdom respects us in return, open the city walls! We only wish to reclaim the food that was taken from us!”

“You filthy wretches! Filthy wretches are not allowed into our royal castle!”

“P-please, don’t do this!”

“Be quiet!”

A black puppet jerked about, miming the firing of a gun. Across from it, a white puppet was struck and fell.

“That’s bad!”

Complaints burst from the children watching the distorted puppet show.

“It’s really bad! Teacher, I like the white puppet.”

“Me too!”

The teacher accompanying them from a nearby school looked displeased, but the children—unaware of what was wrong—expressed exactly what they felt.

Amid the frowning children, Vivian stared intently behind the small stage. She could see contempt mixed into the puppeteer’s smile as he crouched and manipulated the dolls.

Vivian had come wondering what outrageous scenario they had prepared this time, and she now deeply regretted her decision to watch this puppet show at all. It didn’t look like the puppeteer had any intention of telling a proper story, even to children on a school field trip.

‘Did he get orders not to put on a proper puppet show?’

Every time, this performance tested Vivian’s patience. One day it told the story of a queen who abandoned her country and fled on its final day; another day, a king who bowed his head in humiliation, offering up his nation. It was obvious whom these characters were meant to represent.

Naturally, it was nonsense. There wasn’t a single true thing in it—she could argue all day and still not be finished.

“Bullshit.”

Vivian muttered the curse without thinking. She said it very quietly, but one of the children watching the show must have heard, because the child whispered something to her mother.

“What? Who said that?”

“That big sister over there.”

The mother’s gaze followed the pointing finger and met Vivian’s eyes. Vivian gently curved her eyes into a smile.

“Hello, ma’am.”

“Rosia?”

A sudden gust of cold wind nearly blew Vivian’s fur hat off.

“You should tie your hat strings properly, Rosia. It’d be a shame if it flew away.”

The woman fixed Vivian’s hat for her. In Vivian’s frigid winter, it was one of the few moments of warmth.

“Thank you.”

As Vivian bowed, the woman smiled back and gently scolded her daughter.

“You shouldn’t lie, Sara.”

“Sara didn’t lie!”

“Then are you saying Rosia used such bad words? That can’t be.”

“There must have been a misunderstanding. I’ll be going now. Sara, see you again later!”

“Alright, Rosia. Get home safely.”

Vivian turned away from the nauseating plaza.

Iella loved Vivian and her younger sibling, Noah. She loved the southern resort where warm weather lasted year-round, and she loved the capital where the royal palace stood, and the people of the kingdom.

‘The roses you worked so hard to grow must all have withered, Vivi. Purple roses are hard to find again, you know.’

Even when she might die at any moment, her mother loved even a single rose in the garden.

‘I’m sorry.’

It was Iella who reassured Vivian, hiding deep in the tall brush, by turning the gun on her own head to save Noah from the Imperial soldiers. She was someone who loved this world with her whole heart. And yet they claimed she abandoned her country and ran away.

The dead could not speak, and Vivian could only feel bitter as they babbled whatever they pleased.

As if mocking Iella, who gave up her life to save Noah, the Imperial soldiers took young Noah away. They didn’t even keep their promise—that if she killed herself, they would spare Noah.

She couldn’t bring her mother back, so Vivian had to return the humiliation she had been dealt—and she had to reunite with Noah, who must be alive somewhere. Everything that had been taken had to be reclaimed.

Then, while living like that, she was blessed with incredible luck: at an orphanage, she stumbled upon Noah’s adoption record. Vivian was certain the owner of this document—its contents blacked out except for the name—was Noah. The name Noah had used was common enough, but somehow, she just knew.

But that was all.

For years, Vivian was unable to find the original document with the information unredacted. She stood before the path to Noah, yet was lost.

That was why the assassination of the governor had to succeed. If Noah’s adoption record had been classified, the governor might have possessed the original file.

But no matter how thoroughly she searched the stacks of documents in the supply wagon and the files inside the vehicle, there was nothing related to Noah.

No matter how many times she reread the irrelevant words, the letters never changed.

And not just letters—such was the law of the world. Having lived trapped in regret, Vivian knew that nothing that had already happened could be changed unless time itself was reversed. Unless the legendary supernatural power truly existed, no matter how desperately one wished for it, there was no magic that could return one to the past.

‘Let’s go back, Tabe.’

Only after repeating that truth to herself once more could Vivian finally let go of the crumpled paper.

Breaking free from her thoughts at last, Vivian stubbornly reminded herself of the reason and goal of her life. Noah—and this kingdom that should have been hers—she would reclaim them all.

Just then, snow began to fall.

“Stop! Who are you?”

Vivian’s steps slowed as she passed in front of the governor’s office. A black-haired man stood straight, looking down at the gun aimed at him.

His eyes were utterly emotionless.

Vivian stared at the man in a daze.