els of the carriage clattered softly against the road as it pulled into the outer courtyard of the Elerian estate.
This time, there was no cheerful chatter.
No laughter.
No teasing about pastries or disguises or cats in baskets.
Only silence.
Virelle sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her eyes were unfocused, staring at the wall of the carriage, not really seeing it. Serenthia leaned back in her seat with arms crossed and jaw clenched. The normally playful gleam in her violet eyes was gone—replaced by something colder, sharper.
And Lia lay curled in Virelle's lap, quiet and unusually still, as if weighed down by more than her small feline body could bear.
They had been kidnapped.
And rescued.
By a boy they didn't know.
A boy who moved like the wind and vanished like smoke.
And for the first time, despite all the schemes, poisons, and politics they had weathered in silence—
They were shaken.
Back at the Mansion
Duke Luthair Cersenia was already waiting when the carriage doors opened.
His gaze swept over Virelle in an instant, scanning for wounds. For bruises. For even the faintest tremble.
"Father," Virelle whispered, stepping down. "I'm fine. Truly."
The Duke said nothing.
But his jaw tensed, and he turned sharply to the guards behind them. "Who were they?"
"Mercenaries," one reported. "Hired through back-alley routes. Trained, but not elite."
"And their orders?"
"Kidnap the princess. The other girl was unexpected."
"Are they speaking?"
"No," the man said grimly. "Refuse to name their contractor. We've tried… everything short of torture under imperial law."
"They'll talk," Luthair muttered. "Or they'll beg to before the end."
___
They'd been bathed. Treated. Examined. Offered food neither of them touched.
Now, Virelle sat on the edge of her bed, one hand stroking Lia's fur with absent, trembling fingers. Serenthia sat in the armchair beside her, staring into the dim glow of the hearth.
"We were too comfortable," the princess muttered. "Lulled into thinking this place was a bubble. It's not."
"I never thought…" Virelle whispered, voice thin, "that someone would actually take you"
"you're the sister of the crown prince. Of course someone would try. I should have expected it."
Virelle reached down and wrapped both arms around Lia, burying her face into the kitten's soft fur.
"…If he hadn't shown up," she murmured, "we'd still be there."
Serenthia looked over. "That boy."
Virelle nodded.
Neither of them had seen his face. His movements were too fast. His cloak too dark. And the mask had hidden everything but those strange, bright golden eyes.
"Who was he?" Virelle asked.
"I don't know," Serenthia said slowly. "Too young but too skilled to be a street-born mercenary. He fought like he was born with a blade in his hand."
"Do you think he followed us?"
"No. I think…" Serenthia frowned. "I think he was already there. Waiting."
Virelle's brows drew together. "But why?"
They both turned to Lia, who had gone unusually quiet.
She wasn't asleep.
She was staring into the fire, unmoving, her tiny paws frozen mid-step.
Cassian, she thought.
The name rose in her mind before she could stop it.
Cassian Idrian Valterne.
A name that hadn't yet appeared in the timeline. A name from far later in the original novel.
Illegitimate son of Duke Renard Valterne of the northern highlands.
Known only by his golden eyes.
They were unforgettable—sharp, glowing like molten light, the color of ancient coins held to the flame.
He had thrown away his right to succession.
Refused the title of heir.
And instead joined the Imperial Shield Division, the empire's most secretive and lethal unit. No face. No rank. Only loyalty to the crown.
Cassian was the weapon the empire unsheathed only when all else failed.
And in the novel Da-eun had read in her previous life, Cassian was the one who executed Virelle.
He was the blade that ended the villainess's story.
Without hesitation. Without mercy.
So why was he here now?
Why did he save her instead of killing her?
She hadn't forgotten.
Not the moment his sword had struck.
Not the sound of Virelle's breath leaving her body.
Not the silence that had followed—the way he had turned and walked away like she was just another line in an order.
He hadn't hated her.
But he hadn't hesitated either.
Now, he had appeared early—too early—and rescued them without explanation.
Is it fate again?
Or is someone else pulling the strings now?
Lia curled deeper into Virelle's lap and purred softly.
But her mind was already spinning.
Cassian was not supposed to be here. Not yet. Not in this arc.
Which meant the story was no longer just changing…
It was rewriting itself.