“What are you planning to do to me?”

Seraphina clenched her teeth. Delighted by her fury, Mireille replied cheerfully.

“Let me tell you a very touching story.”

She laughed so hard that she doubled over. When she finally stopped, she looked down at Seraphina and said something in a chilling voice.

“One day, the Crown Princess goes on a little outing of her own accord. On the way, her carriage overturns, and she dies—rolling down that cliff over there.”

Mireille gestured lazily with her chin.

Seraphina followed her gaze without thinking and sucked in a sharp breath.

There stood a sheer cliff. One wrong step would make survival from the fall nearly impossible.

While Seraphina stared blankly at it, Mireille continued.

“Shattered by the loss of his wife and child, the Crown Prince is consumed by grief. And then—ta-da! —as if by magic, a young lady from a neighboring country appears. She returns the child that he thought he had lost forever. He then marries the woman who risked her life to save his child — his savior. The end.”

Having finished, Mireille gave an exaggerated bow. Beaming, she asked.

“Well? Touching, isn’t it?”

“……Yes. Very touching.”

Seraphina replied through clenched teeth. Her eyes burned as she glared at Mireille.

“Except for the part where that ‘young lady’ is actually a deranged murderer who killed the Crown Princess.”

“What did you say?”

Mireille’s face flushed a furious red. As she raised her hand, Seraphina gathered spit in her mouth and spat at her.

Splat!

The saliva splattered across Mireille’s dress.

Staring down at the stain, Mireille shrieked hysterically.

“Kill this b*tch! Right now!”

“My lady, have you forgotten? I’m only cooperating on the condition that I don’t commit murder.”

Egon muttered in a troubled manner.

When Mireille turned to glare at him, he simply shrugged. He had been standing there looking glum.

“If not for that, why do you think I went through the trouble of staging this whole farce?”

Egon nodded towards Leoban. Ever since Mireille appeared, Leoban had stood to one side, watching the situation nervously. Sensing from her bearing alone that she was of noble status, he broke into a sycophantic grin.

“I’ll be satisfied with just 1,000 gold.”

Leoban rubbed his hands together as he spoke. Hearing this, Mireille twisted her face in disgust. She slapped Egon lightly on the shoulder and ordered,

“Fine. Just get rid of that first.”

“As you wish.”

With a sigh, Egon obeyed. He went to the back, fetched a large sack, and walked toward Leoban.

Sensing that something was wrong, Leoban faltered and stepped backward.

“W-what is this…?”

Still wary of Egon, Leoban suddenly turned and ran away. The moment he did so, Egon bit down on the small, whistle-shaped pendant around his neck and blew into it sharply.

Fwhoo.

“Ugh—!”

The instant the tranquillizer struck him, Leoban collapsed to the ground.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

Having just witnessed Egon take down Brandt and Rosalynde, Seraphina was rendered speechless.

“Don’t worry, Crown Princess. You won’t be getting hit with that.”

As Mireille watched Leoban being stuffed into the sack, she spoke to Seraphina. Grabbing her by the chin, Mireille ground her teeth as she spoke.

“You’ll die while feeling every last bit of it. Fully conscious—savoring the terror of rolling down a cliff.”

“You’re insane.”

Seraphina murmured, glaring straight at Mireille. A chill ran down her spine at the murderous intent in her eyes.

“What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

“I never intended to go this far. But His Highness the Crown Prince treated you so one-sidedly—”

Midway through her reply, Mireille flinched and clamped her mouth shut. Smacking her lips, she shook her head.

“There’s no need to explain. Why should I? For whose benefit?”

Muttering to herself, Mireille shot Seraphina a glare—her gaze brimming with malice. Then she suddenly screamed.

“Egon! Take care of this woman too!”

At Mireille’s command, Egon stepped forward. He held the same kind of sack that he had used for Leoban.

It was the same kind of sack Seraphina had been thrown into as a child, when she was kidnapped by slave traders.

No…

She had forgotten.

Of course, she hadn’t seen or used anything like it since. But the instant her eyes landed on the pale sack, the fear she had long buried surged back with brutal force.

Seraphina trembled, instinctively shrinking away.

“No…!”

She had no chance to resist. The moment Egon got close, a sack was thrown over her head.

Her world turned white in an instant and she was trapped inside the large sack.

Cramped. Suffocating.

“Hah… hah…”

Inside the sack, Seraphina opened her mouth wide, struggling for air. She tried desperately to breathe, but no matter how hard she fought, it wouldn’t come easily. Each breath caught painfully in her chest, cold sweat soaking her skin.

“Hh… huff…”

Her hands and feet turned icy cold. Clinging to the last shreds of her composure, she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. Then she began speaking to herself—again and again.

‘It’s all right.
You’re not being sold as a slave.
There’s still a way out. You can escape.’

‘Yes. You have to escape.
You have to save Lucas—and get out of here.’

‘So don’t lose consciousness.
Please.’

“Hhk—hah. Hah!”

Her breathing quickened uncontrollably. Suddenly, the sack she was in was lifted and began to sway in time with hurried footsteps.

Seraphina bit down hard on her lip as sweat streamed down her face. Nevertheless, she forced herself to keep breathing. The ropes binding her wrists and ankles pulled painfully, but she tried not to focus on the pain.

“…Put her down…”
“That’s a misunder—”
“Rein—!”

Muffled voices could be heard drifting in from outside the tent. However, Seraphina could not make out what they were saying. Keeping herself conscious took all her strength.

“…I said—!”

Then—

A man shouted, and her body suddenly lifted into the air. It felt as though the sack had been thrown.

‘Already…?’

Had Mireille already thrown her off the cliff?

Had she done it before she had even escaped?

Seraphina squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart slammed violently against her chest, racing with terror — thud, thud, thud.

But, as if to drive away that sudden dread, her body came to rest gently against something warm and solid.

It was a familiar sensation.

She had been held like this once before.

The last time was when she had fallen down the stairs at the Crown Prince’s palace and been caught in a firm, steady embrace.

Damian’s.

“Sephi!”

She had a realization at the same moment that Damian’s voice rang out. Then the sack shifted, its opening loosening.

Cool air rushed in, followed by a flood of bright light. Seraphina squinted against the sudden brightness.

Silhouetted against the sun, a man quickly untied her bound wrists and ankles and spoke urgently to her.

“Stay here for a moment. I’ll come back for you. Wait for me!”

“Dami—…”

Seraphina stopped just as she was about to call out to him.

A strange sensation washed over her.

It felt as though she had experienced this moment before; she had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

No, it was more than a feeling.

She had experienced this moment before.

The clash of swords rang out from all sides.

Men shouted as they charged at one another.

And—

“I’ll come back for you. Wait!”
“I’ll come get you. You have to wait!”

Even those urgent words spoken to her.

All of it—

had happened before.