Chapter 165
Thud!
With a loud crash, Arcel’s body rolled backward.
“You little bastards!”
The men gritted their teeth as they looked up at the wide-open window in the ceiling.
They had let their guard down, assuming the children wouldn’t dare to resist.
They had done what they always did—tossed in food, left them alone for a full day, and returned only now.
But instead of four children, there were only three.
The tallest boy was gone.
And the window—one they had thought impossible to reach—was wide open.
If anyone were to escape, it should’ve been the smallest one.
That would’ve been easier. A young girl’s stamina was nothing worth worrying about.
But the one who’d escaped was the healthiest, strongest-looking boy of them all.
Worse, that boy was a child of the Marquis of Ragselv—the one most likely to make it the farthest if he escaped.
“Clever little rats. So they actually came up with a plan.”
The bruises covering the children’s bodies and their tattered clothes told the story of just how much they had struggled to help him escape.
The problem was, that only made the men angrier.
As soon as one of the men stepped inside and confirmed that Ruska had indeed fled, he flew into a rage.
Arcel immediately moved to shield Ibi and Eve.
But his already weakened, feverish body gave out, and he fell helplessly to the floor.
As the one protecting them collapsed, the man turned his attention to Ibi and Eve.
Siren had ordered that Eve must not be harmed—but that warning had already vanished from the man’s mind.
If he finds out one of the brats escaped…
Siren wasn’t big or strong. But everyone under him feared him deeply.
Because he was capable of inflicting the worst kind of suffering imaginable.
And if word got out that a child had escaped, especially when things were already tense, his comrades would surely turn on him as well.
As the man stepped toward Eve, Ibi hurriedly blocked his path.
He let out a mocking laugh.
What a pathetic sight—vermin pretending to protect one another.
The man glared at Ibi, clearly annoyed.
He was just about to unleash his raw violence upon them when Eve burst into tears and threw her arms around Ibi.
“No! Don’t hurt Ibi!”
At that very moment, the man’s foot swung forward—
Thud!
Something hit hard—but it wasn’t Ibi’s body that went flying.
“Gah!”
The man jerked back, hopping in place as pain shot up his leg like he’d kicked solid rock.
What the hell?
As he looked up in shock, his eyes went wide.
A faint light was wrapping around Ibi and Eve.
Eve stared at it in astonishment—then her eyes lit up with confidence. She glared at the man and shouted:
“T-this! This is something only royals have! It protects them when they’re in danger!”
She remembered the old ministers at the palace who used to bow before her and call her Your Highness.
They had said that as the daughter of Clois, the emblem on her body would surely protect her in times of peril.
Back then, she hadn’t really believed it.
But now, to think she actually had such power!
Realizing she could protect the others, Eve kept shouting fiercely at the man:
“You—you’ll regret this! Once my father gets here—!”
The man, who had momentarily flinched in surprise, smirked.
“You think this thing will protect you?”
He stepped closer and deliberately kicked at the light surrounding her.
At first it seemed to hold, but the glow quickly flickered and then disappeared entirely.
“W-what…?”
Eve froze, panicking as the light vanished far too easily.
The man lunged forward, grabbed her by the collar, and lifted her off the ground.
“No! Stop it!”
Ibi clung desperately to his arm, but the man easily shook her off and began shaking Eve violently.
“So, the half-breed’s got some power, huh?”
At that, Arcel—forcing himself to sit up—spoke weakly.
“Half-breed? What do you mean?”
Lillian may have come from a small territory, but she was still a noble’s daughter.
Even if her rank was low, no one would call her something as insulting as half-breed.
The man realized his mistake and clamped his mouth shut.
But now, Arcel was certain.
They knew exactly who Eve’s parents were.
And the man could tell Arcel had figured it out.
Damn it.
Siren had warned him to watch his mouth, but in his rage, he’d slipped.
That brat… They said he’s Duke Kaelan’s son…
To think such a young boy could pick up on a single clue—chills ran down the man’s spine.
Still, he needed to fix his mistake.
Siren said not to kill them…
So as long as he didn’t kill them, he could do whatever he wanted.
He decided he had to silence Arcel before the boy could say anything more.
“I’ll deal with you later.”
He dropped Eve to the ground and grabbed Arcel by the collar—
But before he could do anything, a loud voice came from outside.
“Hey! Get all the kids out—now! We’re moving!”
“Moving? To where?”
They had only just relocated a few days ago.
He had thought they could finally settle down here for a while.
Then the voice outside shouted again:
“To the forest villa!”
The sounds of neighing horses and cracking whips filled the air.
At the head rode Clois, his face grim as he spurred his horse faster. No one spoke—they all rode hard in tense silence.
Last night, while searching the area, Clois’s group had spotted a small figure approaching from a distance.
At once, everyone halted to observe.
Moments later, the Marquis of Ragselv suddenly broke into a sprint, his face pale.
“Ruska!”
He was the first to recognize his son—who was staggering toward them.
“Father…”
Realizing that it was his father, Ruska collapsed right into his arms.
Everyone rushed forward to check on the boy’s condition.
Even at a glance, he was severely dehydrated and utterly exhausted.
But his eyes still burned with determination.
“Father… there… Tortu… the villa…”
“Ruska! Stay with me! Are you hurt? What about the others?!”
Unable to speak properly, Ruska dropped his head weakly, and the Marquis, terrified, shook him gently.
A knight hurried over with a waterskin.
He poured water over the boy’s lips—almost splashing it onto his face—and after a few gulps, some color returned.
“Ruska, can you speak?”
Clois knelt beside him urgently.
He knew tending to the child’s wounds should come first, but worry for the others was eating him alive.
“They’re… still okay… but… I escaped… you have to go… quickly…”
Gritting his teeth, Ruska explained in broken sentences what had happened—how he had escaped, the path he’d taken, and what he’d last seen of his friends.
“Not just Ibi and Eve—you have to save Arcel too. They’re probably being beaten right now for letting me go…”
Overwhelmed by guilt for escaping alone, Ruska broke down crying.
“No, Ruska. You did your best,” Clois said gently. “Now leave it to us. We’ll bring them all back safely.”
Ruska nodded faintly—and then lost consciousness.
The Marquis checked his son carefully.
He could smell blood in the boy’s breath from overexertion; his body was drenched in sweat and caked with dust.
His clothes were torn and filthy, his feet covered in blisters and bleeding where the shoes had worn through.
Every step must have been agony—but he had endured it, driven by the desperate need to save his friends.
Handing Ruska to another knight, the Marquis leapt back onto his horse and galloped after Clois, who was already ahead.
He would grant his son’s plea—to save his friends.
And soon after, they saw it: the old villa Ruska had described, not far ahead.
The moment they arrived, Clois and the knights drew their swords and charged inside.
After a quick sweep, one shouted:
“No one’s here!”
Then another knight, inspecting the perimeter, noticed something on the ground—fresh horse droppings.
“It looks like they left about five hours ago.”
That meant they had discovered Ruska’s escape well after he’d already fled.
“Five hours ago…”
Clois turned to follow the trail of hoofprints.
Beyond the mansion stretched a range of mountains.
They were heading into the forest.
