Even though the once-lush hem of her skirt was completely torn and dirtied with dust, Evelyn ran forward in a daze.

Her once white and smooth legs were now marred with small wounds from branches and thorny vines, stained dark red. Her feet, pounding the ground without rest, were caked with a mixture of blood and dirt.

With every step forward, she felt a sharp pain stabbing into her feet, but there was no time to dwell on the agony.

The sounds of Hesta’s soldiers behind her were growing steadily closer.

Every time the noise of branches snapping against their bodies grew louder, Evelyn’s mind blanked out further.

She kept running, not knowing which direction she was heading or how she was moving.

She had no other choice.

If she stopped now, she would be caught and killed by the soldiers of Hesta who were chasing her.

That undeniable truth gnawed away at her sanity, bit by bit.

Clenching her teeth against the searing pain tearing through her chest, she veered toward a denser patch of undergrowth.

At that moment, her foot caught on a raised rock, and she tumbled ungracefully to the ground.

She had fallen so hard that she bit her tongue in the process.

Unswallowed blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

Even in that moment, only one thought consumed her.

She had to run.

She had to escape.

If not, she would die.

Evelyn desperately tried to push herself up with trembling legs, but her body kept collapsing to the ground.

It seemed she had exhausted every ounce of strength she had left, making it impossible to move.

Nothing was going right.

Tears streamed down Evelyn’s face as she clenched her dirt-covered hands tightly.

To make matters worse, all the pain she hadn’t had time to feel until now rushed in at once.

Meanwhile, the sounds of the soldiers kept drawing closer, moment by moment.

Evelyn’s hand, pressed against the ground, began to tremble slightly.

Not once in her life had she ever known happiness.

She had never been loved by anyone, nor had she ever loved anyone.

She did have a mother, the person she was closest to, but even she had turned her back on Evelyn.

The work was grueling, and everyone around her treated her with coldness.

Because many disliked Glenna, Evelyn had become the target of all their cruelty in her stead.

The only time she found any peace was when she could fall asleep without thinking of anything.

She believed life had no meaning. But that didn’t mean she ever wanted to die. Evelyn didn’t want to die like this.

“You’ve run quite far.”

A low voice sounded, as if announcing her death.

The rough sound of breathing came from directly behind her.

“Annoying thing. Acting like that when you’re destined to die anyway.”

With despair clouding her eyes, Evelyn turned to look behind her.

A Hesta soldier, dressed in ragged clothes to disguise himself as a bandit, was slowly approaching with a raised sword.

The soldier, clearly irritated by the unexpected chase, scowled deeply and swung his sword once.

Though he was still out of reach, the frightened Evelyn flinched and shrank back.

A mocking laugh followed her reaction.

Seven more Hesta soldiers appeared before her eyes.

“P-please… spare me.”

Evelyn pleaded, her voice barely more than a crawl.

“I’m begging you…”

She clasped her weak hands together, begging for her life. It was all she could do. She was a lowly maid of the royal palace.

She had thought she would live her life doing chores like all the other maids, aging and dying without notice.

“Please… have mercy.”

Who could have guessed that maid Evelyn would end up being mistaken for the false Princess Ophelia and face death at the hands of her own country’s soldiers?

At that moment—

A rustling sound came from afar, and at the same time, the Hesta soldier nearest to Evelyn suddenly fell backward.

With a splattering thud, all eyes turned toward him.

An arrow was lodged in the fallen soldier’s forehead. He neither breathed nor blinked. He was dead instantly.

“Who’s there?!”

The other soldiers, now aware of the situation, drew their swords and began scanning the surroundings.

At that moment, another arrow pierced the forehead of a second soldier.

Soon after, the third, fourth… and finally, the eighth arrow flew and struck the foreheads of the remaining soldiers. It was a clean and precise display of skill.

Evelyn slowly blinked as she looked over Hesta’s soldiers collapsed on the ground.

No one moved, and no one’s chest rose and fell.

The soldiers of Hesta, who had brought Evelyn deep despair and frustration, met their deaths so helplessly.

Even with the corpses right before her, Evelyn couldn’t come to her senses. She had no idea what had just happened. Clearly, there was no one here who could have helped her.

Then who on earth…?

As Evelyn stood in confusion, a group of people began to approach her. They were soldiers, clearly distinguishable from those of Hesta.

“They don’t look like bandits.”

A man in gleaming white armor, holding a bow, muttered softly.

He had vivid, bright purple hair, confident amber eyes, and sun-kissed skin that suited his handsome features.

The man was Reynard Theodore, Emperor of Bait and ruler of the Western Continent.

Reynard tilted his head slightly as he examined the fallen soldiers of Hesta. From his perspective, there were many suspicious aspects that made them seem like a mere bandit.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Your Majesty, that woman…”

Reynard glanced at Evelyn in response to his lieutenant’s words, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

He scanned her from head to toe.

Her tangled hair, tear-streaked cheeks, and the blood trailing from the corner of her mouth. Given what he had just witnessed, it wasn’t hard to guess that she had ended up in such a state because of that incident.

After a brief silence, Reynard handed the bow he was holding to his lieutenant. The lieutenant took it and carefully put it away.

“…You must be Princess Ophelia.”

Reynard murmured, as if confirming, his brow furrowed with displeasure as he looked over Evelyn’s ragged dress.

“Who… are you?”

Evelyn asked, like a fool, staring at him.

Even though she had heard his lieutenant address him as “Your Majesty,” she still found it hard to accept the reality before her.

Surely, the only country bordering Hesta was Bait.

And the only person nearby who would be called “Your Majesty” was the Emperor of Bait. But the man before her looked nothing like what she’d heard about the Emperor of Bait.

“Introducing myself first really isn’t my style.”

Reynard smiled faintly after a short pause.

Meeting like this in such a chaotic situation—especially facing Evelyn, who seemed half out of her mind—he didn’t feel inclined to demand that she introduce herself first.

“Reynard Theodore, Emperor of Bait.”

Reynard extended his hand to Evelyn as he spoke.

Evelyn stared blankly up at him.

His hand, though calloused, was clearly that of a human, and his well-groomed appearance left her dazed.

“Are you planning to just sit there? More bandits could show up any minute, you know?”

When Evelyn continued staring at his outstretched hand, Reynard urged her again.

Still not fully in her right mind, she slowly lifted her trembling hand and placed it in his.

At the very least, it didn’t seem like Reynard intended to kill her.

Gripping her hand, Reynard pulled her to her feet. But she had been so tense that now her strength gave out—it was too much for her to stand properly.

He quickly supported her waist to keep her from falling.

“Looks like walking on your own might be a bit too much.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, so don’t worry. Forgive the discourtesy for a moment.”

In an instant, Reynard scooped Evelyn up into his arms.

He moved too quickly for her to even let out a scream, and then ordered the others who had come with him to return.

Cradled in Reynard’s arms, Evelyn rolled her eyes upward to examine his head.

There was no fur covering his body, nor were there the hideous features described in the rumors about him. But because Evelyn had believed those stories as truth for so long, she had to check—did he really have horns, as the rumors said?

Fortunately, there were none on his head.

Returning to the camp with Evelyn, Reynard sat her down on a wooden crate of appropriate size.

She felt a bit relieved—she had grown increasingly uncomfortable being held in his arms.

As Reynard and his accompanying soldiers returned, others who had been waiting nearby gathered around him.

“She is Princess Ophelia of Hesta. Though she’s joined us out of necessity, see that she lacks for nothing in her treatment.”