A small figure dashed through the damp forest.
The sound of a woman’s footsteps, cutting through the mist drifting between the trees, came in ragged breaths.
Behind her, the shadow of a black beast pursued.

“Ugh!”

Her shoe slipped off, and her blood-soaked foot left crimson prints that betrayed her trail.
A hound with sharply pointed ears caught the metallic scent of blood and closed in on her heels.
The pounding of its four paws striking the earth matched the frantic pace of her heartbeat.

“Haa… haa…!”

Her sweat-drenched chestnut hair clung to her face, strands disheveled. Scratches from branches marred her pale skin, but she forgot the pain and ran with every ounce of strength she had, lungs burning as though they would burst.
Straight, towering trees rushed past in a blur, stretching endlessly like iron bars without end.

At last—

“Grr!”

Just behind her, a sharp bark sounded as a searing pain shot through her leg. At the same time, her body lurched forwards.

“Ahh!”

She crashed hard into the ground, a groan escaping her lips.
Turning her head, she met the relentless gleam of feral eyes.
The massive hound had clamped down on her slender calf, its mouth twitching as sticky saliva dripped from its jaws.

She realized there was no escape left.
Another hound lunged at her, its fangs bared, aiming straight for her throat.

‘Please…!’

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Kyaang!”

With a beast’s death cry came the sound of something piercing deep—thud.
At the same moment, the jaws clamped on her leg fell slack.

Slash!

Hot blood splattered across her torn clothes.

The hunted woman slowly opened her tightly shut eyes.

The huge hound’s body lay sprawled across the blood-soaked earth.

Forgetting even the pain searing her leg, she lifted her gaze.
A few paces away stood a man.

A figure draped in a black cloak, his hair as dark as midnight.
Like a shadow made flesh.

Clutching the damp earth, she forced herself upright.
At that moment, the man slowly turned his head, a sword in his hand.
Violet eyes gleamed beneath the darkness, and her heart pounded violently in her chest.

‘Why…!’

Like a thief caught in the act, she quickly lowered her head, hiding her face beneath the curtain of her hair.

Squelch—
The sound of boots stepping into a pool of blood echoed through the still forest.

The shadowed breeze felt unusually cold, and pain surged through her leg as if it might snap apart.
She crouched smaller, sitting in the bloodied earth.
The damp air, heavy with fog, pressed down deep into her lungs.

Then—
A shadow fell across her pale, slender hand.
She prayed that the dark figure would simply pass her by.

But the gleaming black boots crushed even the faintest breeze underfoot, stopping directly in front of her.

“…To think we’d meet again in a place like this.”

A drop of blood, still warm, slid from the tip of the sword he carried.
An instant later, a gloved hand seized her chin and forced it upward.

And then she met them—
Eyes glowing violet within a colorless world shrouded by ashen clouds.

Shed Lester.
Duke of the Lester domain, known as the Northern Blade.
At the same time, the son of a slave, born of the barbaric Lupus tribe—the Black Wolf.

His dual identity was the fodder of endless gossip in high society, whispered again and again whenever the world seemed ready to forget.

But to her, Shed was no mere subject of idle rumors.

“My lady, are you unharmed?”

Memories she had buried long ago surged forth, pressing through as if they had been waiting for this moment.
The dam of forgetfulness she had built to seal them away began to crack.
Through the narrow fracture, memories poured out—until they broke through in a flood, drowning her mind.

The tide of recollection rose to her throat, threatening to consume her whole.

His violet gaze swept over her with cool detachment, stealing her breath.

“You vanished, as if I were nothing, and left me behind.”

His lips, calm as an unbroken horizon, moved slowly.

“…and this is what you’ve become?”

His monotonous tone carried a trace of scorn.

Her disheveled hair revealed a wretched sight: Cheeks swollen red, lips crusted with blood, a maid’s dress torn, a shoe missing who knew where, her body marked with wounds—
And her calf, still bleeding from a hound’s bite.

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away.

They had known each other well.
But never had she wished for a reunion like this.
Not filthy, mired in mud, stripped of all dignity.

No—she should never have met him again, no matter her state.
She had struggled so hard to escape…

Desperate to flee his gaze, she twisted away.

And in that moment, the violet eyes narrowed.

“Luise.”

The long-forgotten name spilled from his lips.
A name once discarded, now stirring her chest once more.
A name condemned long ago under the charge of heresy.
A name that should never again be spoken in this world—
the name of a traitor.

“Luise Ideana.”

Again, he forced her head to turn, compelling her to meet his gaze.
At the end of that relentless stare, his red lips twisted upward.

“…I thought you were dead.”

The low, biting words made her heart plummet.
The hand gripping her head no longer carried warmth.
The eyes that once shone with pure, innocent light in distant memories were gone.

“I’ll let you have your chance at revenge… before you die.”

A fleeting smile crossed his cold face.
It wasn’t kindness, but cruelty—mocking her helplessness.

Relief flickered in his eyes, not because he wished her vengeance, but because she hadn’t escaped.
She was still within his grasp.
Still his prey.

The pure, gentle radiance of the past had become a clumsy adornment, no longer fitting for him.
In its place were refined arrogance and a beautiful, chilling cynicism.

Much had changed.
And so had she.

“Liana…”

The name escaped her trembling lips, a voice like the cry of a sacrifice laid upon an altar.

“I… I am Liana Serpens.”

The words burned bitterly on her tongue.
Liana Serpens—everyone knew her only as that.
The heretic and traitor, Luise Ideana, no longer existed in this world.
All that remained was a lowly maid bearing the name Liana.

No trace remained of the noble maiden’s grace.
Her once-radiant platinum hair was gone, replaced by tangled strands of dark brown, like fallen leaves.
Her immaculate gowns had been traded for a torn and dirtied maid’s dress, her body crouched upon the mud-stained ground.

The carefully polished leather shoes were no more; instead, she wore makeshift cloth shoes—
no, even those were incomplete now, one lost, leaving her bloodied bare foot exposed.

She had abandoned the soft, lilting accent of the West, adopting instead the languid tones of the South.
And so, until this very moment, no one—truly not a single soul—had recognized her.

Yet—

“Mistaken?”

A strange glint flickered beneath his long lashes.
At the same time, the long fingers that had held her chin slid slowly down the curve of her neck.
The sensation brushing her nape was both hot and cold.

As if the edge of a blade had grazed her skin.

Liana froze.

And then—

“You can’t fool my eyes, Luise.”

His emotionless hand seized her collar and yanked it open with brutal force.
The already ruined buttons of her maid’s dress came undone, scattering helplessly.

Beneath the gaping fabric, her pale, unremarkable collarbones and shoulders were laid bare.
His lowered gaze fixed on one spot—
the black crescent-shaped mark branded just above her collarbone.

“You know you were never meant to deceive me. Isn’t that so?”

Like tightening the noose around trapped prey, his grip on her collar pulled taut.
An undeniable mark—etched into her flesh.

Her slender hand darted up, clutching desperately at her collar.

“Please… let go.”

“…Me, let you go?”

Her feeble resistance crumbled beneath his rough touch.

“I… I have to return.”

“Return? To the House of Baron Godwin?”

Shed Lester’s mocking voice made her wide eyes lift toward him in shock.

“How…?”

How could he know she worked as a maid in the Baron’s household?

Doubt trembled in her gaze, but his eyes shifted indifferently toward the hound’s corpse lying nearby.
Around the beast’s neck hung a tag, marked clearly with the crest of the Godwin family.
And the maid’s dress she wore—stained with blood—was unmistakable, with the gaudy local frills unique to the Baron’s estate.

“To think you’d still return to the Baron’s house after being treated like this. Such loyalty.”

“…The Baron has always cherished me.”

With trembling hands, Liana clutched the soiled hem of her skirt.
Shed’s eyes narrowed.

“Cherished?”

Through the slitted gaze, he swept over her form.
A cherished maid indeed—what a pitiful sight.

“I find myself curious… just how dearly does he cherish you?”

A bitter smile curved along Shed’s lips as his fingers slowly brushed the hilt of his sword.
Realizing his intent, Liana shook her head quickly.

“My master would never…!”

“Ah, so you’re worried that the Baron might take revenge on me?”

Shed Lester gave a short, amused laugh and yanked hard on the necklace at her throat.
Her body lurched forward, the distance between them collapsing in an instant.

So close his breath nearly grazed her cheek, Liana swallowed hard.
The heavy scent of the forest mingled with the metallic tang of blood clung to him.

His violet eyes locked with hers, leaving her unable to breathe.

“If you still think of me as that slave from the past, you’re gravely mistaken, my lady.”

His low, brushing voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Liana’s lips quivered.

“As far as you’ve fallen… I have risen.”