On the promised day, the morning was bitterly cold.

The early spring air filled her lungs with nothing but tense fear.

Sveta struggled to exhale as she began her final preparations, which might also be her last. Her hands were trembling as she gathered her flowing, sunset-coloured hair into a single knot. Her arms trembled uncontrollably. Her ankles were no better; her steps were unsteady as she moved outside.

“I… the Duke’s…”

Repeating the words she had practiced all night, she left the grand stone building. It took a long time just to step beyond the shadow of the ducal estate.

“Just one year…”

Even as her feet crossed beneath the deep shadows of the forest, her murmurs continued.

Suddenly, the flow of air grew tight and heavy. Sveta halted at once and lifted her gaze.

He was there.

The Duke of Strilland.

His upright, unwavering stance resembled that of a dignified bird.

“My lord Duke.”

His indifferent gaze brushed across Sveta’s cheek. Along the edge of her face, goosebumps prickled like tiny grains rising one after another.

“Do you have any last words you wish to leave behind?”

“I… I…”

The duke caught the edge of his leather glove between his teeth, freeing one hand. The black glove hung loosely from his lips, brushing against his crimson mouth.

Slowly, he drew back the bowstring.

As the sharp arrowhead levelled towards Sveta, she froze instantly. Forcing open her barely moving lips, she cried out.

“I will be… your mistress.”

“…….”

A deep furrow formed between the brows of the composed man. Each strand of his hair gleamed as though gilded in gold, catching the light above his straight, noble forehead.

Aiden Strilland.

There was no one in Aetania who did not know his name. He was said to be the prince who had come from Muwieo, that mysterious kingdom across the sea. He was also the head of a ducal house that wielded immense power.

During the chaos of the tyrant’s reign, he was the hero who shot an arrow into the tyrant’s shoulder on the day the Queen rose with only thirty-two nobles, handing her the throne.

He was the handsome man who had won the Queen’s favor.

The words that followed him were so dazzling. His green eyes, delicate enough to tempt a forest fairy to steal them, fixed upon her.

Clenching her fists tightly, Sveta dared to meet the duke’s gaze.

“I will be your mistress.”

He held the arrow between his long fingers and twisted it as he pulled the bowstring back even further. The suffocating pressure made her feel as though her heart would be pierced at any moment, lending strength to her trembling voice.

“You wish to break off the Queen’s marriage proposal, don’t you?”

“…….”

“I will be the filthy stain on your name.”

Her palms now stung. Her nails had dug into her own flesh.

‘Be proud, Sveta.’

She gripped the stiff hem of her skirt and lifted her chin high, trying to hide her trembling.

“A filthy stain, you said?”

The leather glove he had been clenching in his mouth fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“Yes. Use me.”

“…….”

“I am the daughter of the barbarian chief. Use me as bait to lure the remaining enemies and then kill me when I’m no longer needed.”

“…….”

“In exchange, grant me just one year to live.”

He had brought Sveta to this place because she was the daughter of the Zloytan chieftain.

However, when she admitted to being the daughter of such a vicious bandit, he looked at her with deep disgust.

“Do you really want to live that badly?”

The arrow whistled through the air.

It passed within a fist’s breadth of her face.

Finally, the duke slowly and deliberately lowered his bow.

“Has this happened before?”

“Happened… before?”

Ironically, to become his stain, she had to be pure. That much made sense. His honor could not be blemished.

Sveta’s eyes flicked to his belt. There were no arrows left. It seemed he had only brought one shot from the beginning.

Her face showed half relief, though her voice was still tight with strain as she replied.

“Never. I have never lain with a man—”

“That is not what I asked.”

“Then…”

“I asked if you have ever betrayed your family.”

She shook her head.

The loose white lace at her shoulder slipped silently and her fiery hair cascaded down her back.

Sveta murmured quietly.

“Never… never once.”

From the beginning, there had never been a family to betray. Sveta’s claim to be a Zloytan princess had always been a lie.

She was a child who had been abandoned in the Stone Mountains at birth. Although she was found by Zloytan’s chief, Hisendra, she was destined to die.

To the bandits, girls were nothing but worthless burdens.

However, Hisendra’s slow-witted husband, Jace Gould, had come up with a surprising idea.

He wanted to raise her as a slave, a toy and a stand-in for their beloved daughter, Beth Gould.

She would be a doll who could die in Beth’s place if necessary.

Fortunately, Beth was a tender-hearted child. The two girls grew up as friends and secret sisters, bound by affection.

Five years ago, on the day that Hisendra died suddenly from a fever, Beth helped Sveta escape.

“This way, quickly!”

Pushing at her frail back, Beth whispered,

“I love you, Sveta. You must live. Until we meet again…”

The echo of that gentle voice was still reverberating in her ears.

To stop herself from crying, Sveta held her head high.

The only reason she was standing there as the daughter of Zloytan’s chief was because of her love for Beth , to die in her stead.

She had never betrayed her.

“I have never betrayed my family, It is the absolute truth.”

“…….”

Aiden’s impassive gaze drifted away indifferently. Despite his imposing physique, the duke moved quickly and fluidly.

She felt uneasy, afraid that he might shoot another arrow at her.

Sveta cried out desperately.

“I am also the only daughter of Baron Luce!”

Aiden, who had taken several steps, stopped abruptly. He turned his head slightly.

Fixing her gaze on his profile, Sveta spoke clearly and slowly.

“As the daughter of a baron’s house, I believe I am not unfit to serve as your mistress.”

Fitting.

The word sounded almost laughable, even to her own ears.

The baron’s mistress was a pitiful stray who had been dragged up from the streets. The false noblewoman that Baron Luce had paraded as his foster daughter. A half-lady at best, beggar-born.

That was her true place now.

And of course he knew it. How could he not? That was why he looked at her the way he did.

His murky green eyes swept over her like dark waters, bearing down on her with such suffocating weight that she felt she might drown, unable to draw a breath.

“Midnight.”

“…Yes?”

“Come to my chambers at midnight. We will finish our conversation then.”

Leaving only those words, the Duke walked away with long, elegant strides.

“Yes, my lord Duke…”

Sveta’s small voice scattered like wind.

A tear traced her cheek and fell, born of the relief that she had survived and of the terror of death being so close, as well as the feelings she still could not cast aside.

Through her blurred vision, the Duke’s back grew smaller and smaller.

At last, he was no more than a dot in the distance. Sveta sank to the ground.

‘That day too, he had walked away like this.’

For the hundredth time, she retraced their very first meeting.

◯◯◯

Five years ago, on the day she escaped Zloytan , the hunt began.

She narrowly avoided death countless times, yet pressed on without rest.

After a year of relentless flight, she finally reached the southern port city of Zernok.

Zernok, with its mild climate and generous wealthy merchants, teemed with vagrants. For a time, Sveta survived among them too, living off scraps and begging in the streets.

However, no matter how kind the city was, no one would ever hire a stranger with such mysterious origins.

‘Compared to Zloytan, this place is paradise. At least no one beats me here. So it’s fine.’

She begged for just enough money to buy one meal a day. She spent the rest of her time looking for work. In that respect, at least, Sveta was confident. Surely her circumstances would improve.

But her hope was crushed by the sudden appearance of a strange man.

“Seems you don’t know the rules here, miss. Begging’s not allowed.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Just pay me back with money.”

“I… I don’t have any right now…”

“If you’ve got no money, then give me something else. That’s how it works.”

His slimy gaze slid down her body, covered by a shabby robe. He grabbed her by the collar and pulled her up.

After spitting harshly into his palm, he smeared the phlegm across her soot-streaked face, scrubbing until her features stood out clearly.

The man’s eyes widened for a moment. The jagged scar slanting across his eye twitched grotesquely.

“Well, just look at that! There’s a lump of gold hidden in the mud.”

“P-please, just let me go.”

As Sveta squirmed, he licked his lips and loosened his grip on her collar. But not to grant her plea.

Hitching up his trousers, he stepped closer. Sveta began to back away.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

The moment he lunged at her, she spun around and ran off. Her plan was to weave through the winding alleys and reach the bustling docks.

Pulling her hood low, she ran. The metallic taste of bl＊＊d rose in her throat, and her lungs heaved as if they were about to burst.

“Ah…!”

She was caught just before reaching the pier.

A brutish hand reached out from behind her, tore off her hood, and grabbed her by the thick hair.

“Agh—let me go!”

“There are two things I never let go of. First is money.”

“I’ll find it, I swear! I’ll pay you, just—”

He chuckled darkly.

“And second is a gold nugget caked in mud.”

“Please!”

Her scalp burned and her hair was pulled as though it would be ripped out by the roots, but Sveta refused to submit meekly. If she surrendered, it would all be over.

However, there was no way she could win against a man twice her size.

In the end, she collapsed and was dragged helplessly along the ground. They had nearly reached the end of the alley when—

“Khuek…!”

With a strangled cry, the man lurched backwards.

Clearly confused and shocked, Sveta scrambled to her feet.