"I don't want to be here…" I choked out between sobs. The words slipped out before I could stop them. Raw. Bitter. Ugly truth.
"Just 'cause of your black mess…" I spat, voice shaking. "I had to suffer my whole life. Why must I pay for sins I never committed? It's so—frustrating!"
I gasped—suddenly dropped to the ground like a discarded rag doll. Air slammed back into my lungs. My throat burned. I coughed, clutching at my neck.
Tears stung my eyes.
I was alive.
Just barely.
Above me, cold eyes still watched. No pity. No warmth. No regret.
Tears streamed freely now. "You are the reason I can't leave the house! The reason I can't live on my own! Who would employ a black-headed girl anyway?"
I laughed. A broken, bitter laugh through the pain.
'So this is it, huh? Not bad. Better than being killed for no reason. At least—at least I was the cause of my death this time.'
Suddenly—
"Who are you?" she asked, voice flat. Unconcerned. Unfeeling. Like I was some bug beneath her foot.
I coughed again, voice hoarse.
"Who am I? Who am I… haha…"
I pushed myself up, trembling but alive. My voice rose—angry now. Sharp.
"Listen carefully, you magic girl. I am Isha Sapiros. From House Sapiros. Daughter of Count Tharen Sapiros."
I met her icy stare head-on. No more fear.
"And get your facts straight. The world you knew? Gone. Two hundred years gone. Only I know you still exist. If you kill me now—go ahead! But be prepared—when the Church investigates, they'll find out. They'll hunt you down. And they will avenge me."
No more walking on eggshells. No more licking boots. No more bowing to anyone.
I was done.
She moved again. Swift. A blur.
"You think of yourself a savior?" she hissed, eyes glowing faintly.
"I can kill you this instant."
I stared straight back.
"Then do it. I won't resist."
A long pause.
Her hungry gaze burned into me.
"Are you insane?"
"The elderly told you are."
"That—"
For the first time—her expression faltered. Soured. Like I'd touched something raw.
A wound.
Warm sunlight stroke my face when panic hit me. The camp—everyone would be waking up!
I glanced back at my… murderer-who-didn't-finish-the-job.
No choice. I started climbing down.
I didn't look back—but the soft crunch of footsteps told me she followed.
The path was easier in sunlight. Somehow, that unnerved me even more.
I had a ghost girl following me down the mountain.
At the foothill, I scanned the area. Empty—for now. I took off my cloak and handed it to her.
She growled but snatched it, wrapping herself up.
Back at camp—chaos.
Everyone was awake. Packing samples. Prepping for departure in four days. I swallowed hard.
Four days left. I had to survive with her in tow.
Luckily, my tent was tucked at the corner. I slipped inside quickly, her shadow following.
She gazed around—eyes wide, almost childlike. Like a girl seeing a zoo for the first time.
"This is… your den?" she asked softly.
"For now."
I rummaged through my trunk, pulled out two pairs of simple clothes. Tossed one to her.
"I definitely can't go out stinking like this. And you…" I looked her over.
"You're practically wearing rags."
She stared at the clothes, hesitant. Almost… insulted.
"Don't worry. You'll blend better in these." I sighed, already too tired to argue.
I turned my back. Heard faint rustling.
Good. At least she was cooperating.
I finished dressing, then faced her. She was still standing awkwardly, eyes darting around the tent.
"I'm going for breakfast," I told her. "Stay here. Don't leave."
She gave no answer. Just stared, as unreadable as ever.
Four days left.
Four days to smuggle a ghost through a camp of scholars and guards to dorms. Four days to avoid suspicion. Four days to figure out what the hell I'd gotten myself into.
I snuck out for breakfast. My heart was still racing. I half expected the guards to call me out.
But no one noticed. I guess after three weeks of cave crawling, people expected me to look half-dead.
I grabbed bread and a flask of tea, stuffing extras into my bag.
For her.
When I returned, Amelia was sitting cross-legged on my cot, fingers tracing the seams of my blanket like it was some alien artifact.
"You came back," she said flatly.
"Yeah. I brought food."
I handed her a chunk of bread. She sniffed it suspiciously. Then bit off a piece like a wary animal. Her face scrunched.
Too salty. Too bland. Too… alive.
But she ate.
"You said… 200 years?" she asked suddenly.
I blinked. "Yeah."
"How long… have I been… chained?"
I sat down, still watching her carefully.
"The story goes—you were sealed away after the war- fight between the Church. You were blamed for cursing the royal bloodline."
Her eyes narrowed.
I shrugged. "The world moved on. The Sapiros house survived, barely. The Church came to power."
She was silent. Processing.
"Are you part of royal family" building her defense, she was ready to pound.
"No, the black hair is deemed as cursed one" i answered the question reflecting in her eyes.
Day 22
Keeping Amelia hidden was… an adventure.
The first time I left her alone, I returned to find my scrolls unrolled, my ink spilled, and her sitting in the middle like a queen of chaos.
"What… are these?" she asked, lifting a soggy herb sample.
"Research notes. You ruined them."
She looked unbothered. "They smelled strange."
I sighed. "You can't touch everything."
She tilted her head. "You live in such a… fragile world."
"Welcome to modern life," I muttered.
Day 23.
By now, I was sneaking extra food for her at every meal.
She still refused to eat meat. Only bread, fruits, and tea.
She asked about the Church. About the city. About the strange metal box I called a "lantern."
I explained as best I could, though half of it sounded ridiculous to both of us.
"What is… this thing?" she asked, poking my pen.
"It's for writing."
She held it like a dagger.
Day 24.
Something changed.
She started asking questions about me.
"Why do you fight so hard to live in this world that hates you?" she asked bluntly.
I froze.
i did not answered, simply cause i don't want to.
"Survival," she said assuming herself.
Day 25. Last day.
The camp was buzzing. Everyone packing samples, readying carts.
We would leave tomorrow morning.
And I had one major problem:
How the hell do I smuggle a ghost girl out of here?
We were going back to a city crawling with Church knights.
Tomorrow, we'd return to the capital.
Back to politics. Danger. The Church.
And I was prepared, bring it on.