Elena woke up when the sun had already slipped toward the western horizon.
Her head throbbed in sync with her heartbeat, but the burning sensation from the soapy water that had seeped into her wounds yesterday had subsided a little.
She found herself lying alone on the shabby bed of her room.
On the dilapidated wooden nightstand sat a small medicine bottle and a scrap of paper weighted down by a piece of wheat bread.
With trembling hands, Elena reached for the paper.
“Darling, don’t work yet.
For at least two days, do not work.
Your head will only get worse if you force it.
If you need help, just go out through the Dracox gate and ask for Mister Tot–the owner of the small house near the mansion’s forest.”
Elena’s tears fell instantly, smudging the ink on the paper.
Amidst the storm of hatred hurled at her from every direction, there was still a small, warm corner left.
The old doctor, who was frequently called to the mansion, apparently still possessed a conscience.
Elena pressed the note tightly against her chest, sobbing softly.
She felt that this world, cruel as it was, had at least spared one good person for her.
Gathering what remained of her strength, Elena stood up.
She knew she couldn’t stay here forever.
If Clementine caught her just lying around, her life would truly be forfeit.
She went to see the Head Maid—a middle-aged woman who was usually exceedingly harsh.
However, whether it was at the sight of Elena’s bandages already seeping with blood or due to the doctor’s orders, the Head Maid merely snorted and waved her hand, granting a two-day unpaid leave.
Elena slipped out of the mansion’s back gate with faltering steps.
She wore much more concealing clothes–an old hooded cloa–to hide the bruises on her neck, the mysterious red mark, and the bandages on her head.
Following the doctor’s directions, she went to meet Mister Toto.
Mister Toto and his wife were a simple, elderly couple.
Asking no questions, as if they already knew how terrifying life was behind the walls of the Grand Duke’s estate, they prepared a shabby horse carriage.
“Go to the city, child.
Meet your family.
Rest there,” Mister Toto’s wife said as she wrapped a red apple into Elena’s hand.
Elena boarded the carriage with a burgeoning sense of relief.
For the first time in months, she breathed in fresh air that didn’t reek of foul soapy water or Clementine’s suffocating perfume.
She leaned her head back, trying to close her eyes as the carriage rattled away.
Yet, that peace was nothing but a mirage.
In the middle of the deserted path, the carriage suddenly jolted and came to a halt.
Elena waited for a few minutes, but it didn’t move again.
“Driver?
Is something wrong?” Elena called out.
There was no reply.
Just moments ago, she had still been making short conversation with the man.
Elena braced herself to step outside.
Her heart sank.
The driver had vanished without a trace.
Even the horse that had been pulling the carriage was freed from its harness, leaving the shabby carriage all alone on a trail surrounded by wild apple trees.
Elena was bewildered.
She looked in every direction, but there was only a chilling silence.
Since her body was still incredibly weak and her head began to ache from the jolting ride, she chose to sit beneath a lush apple tree by the roadside.
Unwittingly, her sheer physical and mental exhaustion dragged her into a deep sleep.
By the time she woke up, the darkness of the night had already enveloped the world.
Elena shivered.
She had no choice but to travel to the city on foot.
The distance was still very far.
Her plump body and her fresh wounds made every single step feel like scaling a treacherous mountain.
Her breath hitched, cold sweat drenched her back, but her longing for her family became the last fuel she had left.
Fortunately, she encountered no bandits along the way.
Near dawn, she finally reached the outskirts of the city.
The aroma of freshly baked bread and the bustling city air made her feel a little more alive.
Her first destination was the tavern where her older brother, Ryan, worked.
She yearned for her brother’s warm embrace.
However, as she peeked through the half-open wooden door of the tavern, the sight inside completely shattered her heart.
Ryan was standing with his head bowed in front of a customer’s table, being blasted and cursed at mercilessly over a trivial mistake.
Elena pulled her hand back from the doorknob.
‘If I walk in right now with all these wounds, I will only add to Ryan’s burden.
He is already suffering enough here,’ she thought bitterly.
She turned around and headed toward the blacksmith workshop where her father worked.
From a distance, she spotted the figure of her now skeletal father, hammering iron with what little strength he had left.
Her father’s face was covered in sweat and sorrow.
Elena froze again.
She imagined her father’s reaction if he saw the bandages on her head—the old man would surely blame himself for being unable to protect his daughter.
The same went for her mother, who worked at another noble’s estate.
Elena knew all too well the heavy pressure her mother endured.
Elena’s courage crumbled.
She who had arrived with a handful of hope now felt like a parasite that would only poison her family’s already fragile happiness.
Elena chose to retreat.
She walked listlessly toward a row of closed storefront terraces and sat there among the other homeless people.
There, surrounded by those who had absolutely nothing, Elena didn’t feel physically lonely, yet her soul felt utterly hollow.
She curled up, hugging her knees in the middle of the freezing city night, letting her tears fall in silence.
She felt like trash discarded by the world.
The next day, Elena was not awakened by the chirping of birds, but rather by a violent jolt.
Thud!
Her head bumped against something both hard and plush at the same time.
She groaned in pain.
However, her sense of smell immediately caught something incredibly familiar.
A cold, sharp, and profoundly dominant masculine perfume.
A scent she had encountered in the labyrinth garden, inside the wash trough, and in her terrifying nightmares.
Elena gasped, her eyes snapping wide open.
She was no longer on the storefront terrace.
She was inside a luxurious carriage lined with velvet.
And right in front of her sat a man in glittering, grand attire, staring at her with the most casual smirk–the very one she hated most in this world.
Alexander–the Crown Prince was propping his chin up, watching Elena as though he had just stumbled upon the most fascinating toy in the entire empire.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted in a raspy, calm voice.
“Did you sleep well?”
Elena froze.
Her body trembled violently.
All the hope and the escape she had tried to build yesterday shattered into pieces with just a single greeting from that man.