Chapter 16
Under the crushing weight of fear, Freya fainted.
She hung limply from the chair, head drooping, while old memories flooded her mind with painful clarity.
Whenever Freya collapsed from exhaustion, Sophia would roughly shake her awake.
“Do you think fainting will soften my anger?”
Sophia never showed compassion to any of the orphanage children, but she particularly hated Freya.
She found fault in everything she did and treated her with special cruelty.
Why do you hate only me, Aunt?
Those questions choked in her throat, but she never dared voice them, terrified of earning even more hatred.
Freya felt nauseous from this humiliating situation.
Why do I have to live so submissively?
She sometimes wondered about her parents—why they had given birth to her only to abandon her to this pain.
How long had she been locked up?
“…Ah.”
Freya slowly opened her eyes, letting out a pained groan.
An armored knight entered the tent, the clank of metal echoing.
Gathering what little strength she had left, Freya lifted her head.
“I’m innocent.”
She declared her innocence, but the man focused on removing his helmet and setting it aside.
He was a huge man with sweat-soaked brown hair and pitch-black eyes.
He stood before her and spoke in a harsh tone.
“Here, you must tell only the truth.”
“Of course.”
“I have no tolerance for lies.”
The knight’s black eyes blazed as if they would burn her alive.
“But everything I said is true. I was dumping ashes there when I happened upon His Highness wounded.”
“So you’re saying you stumbled upon him by chance and… embraced him?”
The knight’s voice dripped with disbelief.
Feeling wronged, Freya raised her voice slightly.
“I didn’t embrace him—he collapsed into my arms.”
“You’d better pray His Highness wakes up.”
The knight still clearly suspected her.
“…”
There was nothing more she could do.
Freya stopped her legs from shaking and stared into empty space.
She laughed bitterly—this wasn’t the first time she had been misunderstood.
The day of the stolen bread had been just like this.
She had tried to prove her innocence to Sophia, only to receive cold mockery.
Remembering the past drained the last of her strength.
Just like back then, no one will believe me.
She had thought she’d forgotten after meeting Archer, but her body clearly remembered the terror of violence.
If you cry, you’ll be punished even more—so I won’t cry.
She tried to hold back her tears, but strange sounds escaped her mouth.
<Freya, please don’t do this again.>
She remembered Luz’s eyes as he looked at her while she bled.
Even in the hardest moments, she had managed a faint smile.
<It’s okay if I get another scar, Luz.>
Her old words echoed in her mind.
Every time she blinked her closed eyes, she saw Archer cleaning his sword while drinking, Lottie begging her to endure, and Luz smiling in the sunlight.
How much time had passed?
When Freya finally gave up on everything and closed her eyes, she heard a commotion outside the tent.
“Commander, excuse me.”
A soldier entered, stood beside Gemini, and whispered something. Shock appeared on the knight’s face.
“Release her restraints at once.”
The knight was visibly flustered.
Freya realized he now understood it had all been a misunderstanding.
“…”
She felt furious, but she had no strength left to speak.
Her legs trembled from tension as she barely stood from the chair.
She wiped the cold sweat from her hands and let out a deep sigh.
The knight hesitated, then spoke without looking at her.
“It seems there was a misunderstanding.”
His apology was curt and didn’t sound truly remorseful.
Do you think one sentence fixes everything?
Freya nearly shouted, but she swallowed her words.
No matter how angry she was, he was a noble.
“We’ll compensate you for this later.”
The knight added in a stiff tone, and Freya stood with difficulty.
“I’ll go now.”
Her lips trembled with anger, but she wiped her face with a shaking hand.
She didn’t want to blame an injured person, but her resentment toward Prince Lucius was boiling over.
All of this was because of that damned man.
* * *
When Freya returned to the tent with a soldier’s help, Archer exploded the moment he saw her.
“My God, what happened to you?”
Her wrists and ankles were stained with blood from the shackles, and her clothes were torn.
Archer scooped her up, sat her on a soft blanket, and began checking her injuries.
“Where are you hurt that your face and clothes are covered in blood?”
“This isn’t my blood.”
Freya answered in a hoarse voice.
Archer patted his chest and sighed in relief.
“Good heavens, do you know how much I searched for you?”
When Freya vanished after saying she was going to dump the ashes, Archer had been frantic with worry.
How could this happen before he even found her a proper partner?
“Archer, I’m sorry for making you worry.”
It felt strange to have someone worry about her.
Looking at Archer’s anxious face—the same face that always scolded her—she muttered weakly.
“It’s fine. The important thing is you’re safe.”
Freya no longer had the energy to talk.
“Archer, I’m going to rest a little.”
After a day of hunger and stress, Freya lay down on the ground as if collapsing.
“What on earth happened?”
Archer grumbled as he covered her with a blanket.
How much had she suffered to fall asleep the moment she lay down?
Deep wrinkles formed on Archer’s forehead as he added wood to the brazier.
* * *
The next morning, Archer scratched his head while looking at Freya, curled up like a worm in her sleep.
“The sun must be rising in the west.”
Freya never lazed around, yet she showed no sign of waking.
Archer quietly stepped outside so as not to disturb her.
A little later, he returned and woke her with a booming voice.
“Freya, time to get up.”
“…”
Freya poked her head out from the blanket and stretched.
“Archer, I want to rest a bit more today.”
“Staying in bed just makes you lazier. Come on.”
Archer held out a skewer of roasted sparrows and waved it under her nose, urging her up.
Freya opened her eyes with difficulty and sat up; he immediately handed her the skewer.
“Eat.”
“Archer, I just opened my eyes.”
Freya rubbed her eyes and stared at the delicious smell.
“Archer, what is this?”
“Sparrows I roasted myself.”
“Is today a special occasion?”
Freya took a big bite and mumbled.
It was astonishing that Archer—who loved sleeping in—had woken early and prepared food.
As she began chewing, her appetite returned.
Her mouth filled with saliva from the meat juices.
“Freya, are you going to gnaw the wooden skewer too?”
She was devouring everything at lightning speed.
At his comment, she calmly removed the skewer from her mouth.
“When I’m full, I see things clearly.”
She noticed soot on Archer’s cheek.
Imagining his huge body roasting these tiny birds made her laugh.
“Archer, thank you.”
“I saw the sparrows and caught them. I didn’t do it for you.”
“Right, Archer.”
Neither of them was used to this kind of thing.
Seeing the giant man flustered made her feel something strange.
I’ve never felt this before.
It felt as if Archer were an uncle or older brother—like family.
If Archer knew I was thinking this, he’d tease me mercilessly.
Freya laughed as she slowly folded the blanket.
After eating her fill, her fatigue melted away.
“By the way, tell me what happened yesterday.”
Archer finally asked what had been bothering him since the previous night.
“I was dumping the ashes…”
Freya wiped grease from her mouth and recalled yesterday; her expression darkened.
Archer noticed and spoke first.
“They say His Highness Lucius is looking for you. Does it have to do with that?”
“…”
Her brief comfort vanished instantly.
Lucius’s scent returned to her nose, and she felt his blond hair tickling her neck.
Damn it—this isn’t a good sign.
Nothing involving Prince Lucius ever ended well.
When Freya grew tense, Archer’s face paled with worry.
“Did you do something wrong?”
“It’s nothing to worry about. I just happened to save him…”
Freya stammered, and Archer threw up his hands in excitement.
“You saved His Highness Lucius! What greater honor is there?!”
Freya instantly regretted saying anything when she saw his enthusiasm.
