I woke before dawn.
The room was quiet. Snow had stopped falling outside, and the first light of morning barely touched the rooftops. My body felt stiff from sleeping on the hard bed, but at least I had rested. Not enough, but enough to think.
I quickly dressed, pulling on my coat and gloves. My knife was still hidden in the lining, as always. I had learned long ago that the world didn't care if you were innocent. People only cared about what they thought you were.
I opened the door quietly and stepped into the hallway. The inn was mostly silent. The stairs creaked under my weight, but the sound didn't matter.
Downstairs, the innkeeper was already cleaning. The fire in the hearth burned low, and a few early risers were sitting at tables with their breakfast. Steam rose from bowls of porridge and bread. The smell made my stomach tighten again. I forced myself to ignore it. Hunger could wait. Survival came first.
I walked toward the door to leave. I had no reason to stay in one place longer than necessary.
Then I saw him.
A man was sitting near the window, drinking tea. He looked ordinary at first glance. Simple brown coat, plain boots, nothing that screamed wealth or power. But the way he held himself… he wasn't ordinary. Calm. Watching. Patient. Dangerous, somehow.
I froze. My instincts screamed at me to leave quietly, but I was already in sight.
The man's eyes met mine. For a second, he said nothing. Then he smiled—small, polite, but calculating.
"Good morning," he said.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He didn't move from his seat. Just sipped his tea and watched me, like he already knew who I was.
I didn't want trouble. Not today. I adjusted my hood and stepped outside.
"Going somewhere?" the man called after me. His voice was calm, not hostile, but there was something in it that made my stomach tighten.
I stopped. My back was to the door, my hands slightly raised. I tried to keep my tone neutral.
"Just walking."
He tilted his head. "Walking, huh?"
"Yes," I said. "I have business in the next town."
He didn't reply. Just watched me for a moment. Then he smiled again, like he had seen the answer he wanted.
I ignored him and moved down the road.
I could feel his eyes on me the entire way. My pace quickened. My breath came faster, but I kept my face calm. If he wanted trouble, I wasn't giving him the satisfaction of showing fear.
But something told me he wasn't an ordinary traveler. He didn't move like someone who was lost or curious. He moved like someone who was waiting.
I turned a corner, hoping to lose him, but when I looked back, he was still there. Sitting at a different table outside, holding his coat around himself. Calm. Patient. Watching.
I swallowed hard.
I had two options: run or confront. Running would probably be safest, but it might also draw attention. Confronting him… well, I didn't even know what he wanted.
I decided to keep moving.
The snow had stopped falling, but the cold remained. I wrapped my coat tighter and kept my head down.
Every step I took, I thought about what could happen if he followed me. If he recognized me. If he reported me. If he attacked.
The stories I had heard as a child ran through my mind—heroes who hunted "villains" without knowing the truth. Mercenaries who killed without asking questions. People who assumed names were enough to decide life or death.
And now… I was one of them.
I reached a bridge over a small river. The water ran fast and dark. I stopped for a moment, watching the reflection of the sky and the nearby trees. The town behind me seemed peaceful. Almost like nothing had happened yesterday.
But that peace was a lie.
I sensed him before I saw him. A shadow moved along the side of the bridge. I turned my head slowly.
He was there. The same man. Leaning against the railing, arms crossed, watching me. Not hiding, not running. Just watching.
I clenched my fists inside my gloves. My mind raced. What did he want? A fight? To capture me? Or… something else?
He smiled again. "You're the one they call the Right Hand," he said.
I froze. My voice caught in my throat. "I… I don't know what you mean."
He tilted his head. "Don't lie. I've been tracking the rumors. You helped one of the Dark Lord's men escape, didn't you?"
I swallowed. My mind screamed at me to deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, keeping my voice steady.
He laughed softly. "Relax. I'm not here to kill you. Not yet, at least."
I didn't trust him. I didn't relax.
"Then… why are you following me?" I asked.
"Curiosity," he replied. "And… maybe opportunity."
"Opportunity?" I asked, wary.
He smiled, showing just the hint of teeth. "You're in a very interesting position, you know. Everyone thinks you're the Right Hand. Dangerous. Skilled. Smart."
I shook my head. "I'm none of those things."
He raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's what they say."
I ignored him and started walking again. He didn't move. He just let me go. For now.
I didn't look back. I didn't run. I just kept moving.
But I knew one thing: this wasn't the last time I would see him.
And the world… the world had already decided who I was.
Even if I didn't.