The next day passed by busy. The only thought in riealla's mind was to escape from here. She tried bringing up the name Leonardo again this afternoon with Chloe but she changed the topic again. So she left it at that. She has to wait till the night for her escape.
The stars blurred as Riella stumbled through the woods. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her feet torn and muddy. Somewhere behind her, the guards were shouting again — but they hadn't caught her.
Not yet.
She clutched the cloth pouch she'd stolen from the kitchen — not for food, but to appear like a desperate thief. Anything to make sense of why she was running.
She didn't belong in silk. She didn't belong in Chloe's mansion. Whatever this place was — it wasn't kindness. No one gave gifts without price.
So she ran.
Until a silver blade glinted in front of her.
She froze — breath caught.
The soldier stepped forward. More surrounded her. Shadows in black cloaks. Their faces were hard. Unsmiling.
"You've crossed restricted grounds," one of them said. "Who sent you?"
"I—I'm no one. I just ran. I don't belong there—"
"Exactly." The man narrowed his eyes. "You don't. Bind her."
Before she could protest, her arms were tied and a dark hood pulled over her head. Her world went black.
---
When it came off, she was in a room.
Stone walls. No windows. Cold air.
Dark.
A single lantern glowed near the back of the room, casting a long shadow across the floor. The sound of metal clinked softly — a birdcage.
Someone stood by it.
Feeding the bird.
He didn't turn around.
Tall. Straight posture. Hair the color of dark honey kissed by dusk. His coat was simple, yet bore the weight of authority. His hands moved with practiced calm.
The guards straightened behind her.
Then he spoke — not to her.
"Leave."
Just one word.
The guards obeyed.
The silence that followed was heavier than chains.
Riella stared. She wasn't sure if she was meant to speak, or run.
He finally turned.
His features were sharp — angled jaw, a long scar near his left eye. But it was his eyes that caught her breath.
Blue. Cold. Ancient.
Like he'd seen wars she couldn't name.
He said nothing.
Didn't ask her name.
Didn't accuse her.
He only studied her, as if weighing something unseen.
Finally, she found her voice. Barely.
"Where am I?"
He walked closer, and in a voice low and quiet, said—
"Tell me who you are."