Chapter 38 – The One Who Came Back
She was small and frail.
The only work she had ever known was cooking, simple farming, and raising children.
So it hadn’t taken much effort to lock Anne Clarke away.
And now, the Abner mansion was in complete chaos after the assassin’s attack.
Every available guard was out scouring the surrounding area for clues.
Because of that, no one had been left to stand guard in front of the small cell where a thin woman was held.
Sharon Abner walked in silence, her face dark with fury.
“She’s not in the east wing!”
“No trace of her in the west wing either!”
The soldiers were running around frantically.
Sharon bit her lip hard and lifted her eyes toward the sky, where dawn was beginning to break.
The question spinning in her mind became painfully clear.
‘What… what exactly is happening right now?’
How had things come to this?
She’d met that child by chance—
experienced miracle after miracle since then.
The family’s finances had flourished beyond imagination.
Even the Crown Prince had drawn close to her household.
Somehow, that mysterious little girl had managed to win his heart,
and in doing so, brought the Empress Dowager to Abner’s side as well.
Sharon had never said it aloud,
but deep down, all of it—the timing, the child’s strange composure—
had felt… unreal.
***
“I think the birthday party was really fun!”
The memory rose vividly in her mind—
Annelia, running up to her with a bright smile, twisting her little body shyly.
“Thank you, Duchess!”
And that cheerful laugh, light as a bird’s song.
“…It’s okay. I’m fine.”
But that voice had fallen silent—
as Sharon watched the child collapse before her, covered in blood.
“What could possibly be ‘okay’ about that…?”
Her face twisted in anguish as the child’s words replayed in her head.
When she clenched her fist, the glass shards that had cut her earlier throbbed painfully,
but that pain was nothing—
nothing compared to the wound on the child’s back,
nothing compared to how much that tiny body must have hurt.
Sharon’s eyes turned red.
‘Was this Anne Clarke’s doing too?’
Had that woman somehow caused this, planning her escape as part of it?
But no—when the attack happened, Anne Clarke had been with Wendel.
‘She might not have been alone,’ Sharon thought grimly.
‘There could be two of them. Or three. Or more.’
Her throat felt tight, as if a stone were lodged inside.
“Damn it…”
She could endure anything else.
Sharon Abner had always lived surrounded by enemies.
Ever since she inherited her title, her life had been a series of assassination attempts.
She had needed a weapon she could rely on,
and had chosen a small, powerful crossbow.
Over time, she had even taken to hunting with it for sport.
‘So if someone wanted blood, it should’ve been mine.’
But instead—they targeted a defenseless five-year-old.
Sharon’s hands trembled.
She could never forgive whoever had hurt Annelia.
When she found them, she would make them suffer—
rip their skin apart piece by piece like an animal.
She shut her eyes tightly as rage swelled up inside her.
“Your Grace!!”
A desperate voice shouted from afar.
She snapped her eyes open.
One of the servants was running toward her, gasping for breath.
“M-my lady—it’s the main house! In Lady Annelia’s room—the woman is there!!”
***
“Ah… ngh…”
Anne was clutching the white bedsheets, trembling.
Her blood seeped into the fabric, staining it red.
But Annelia—still lying motionless in bed—didn’t wake.
Her breathing was shallow, barely audible, as if it might stop at any moment.
“You…!”
A wary, angry voice came from behind her.
But Anne didn’t look back—
her eyes stayed fixed on the child’s sleeping face.
The girl’s condition was terrible.
Her body was wrapped in bandages, her skin pale and cold.
“G-get out! Leave right now, or—!”
The Abner servant behind her shouted nervously.
Anne slowly turned her head.
Her eyes were bloodshot red as she glared directly at the servant.
“And you?”
Her voice was low and cold.
The servant froze, unable to respond.
“You’re the one who let her end up like this, aren’t you?”
Tears streamed down Anne’s face.
“What are you people? What did you do to her—to make her look like this?”
Her voice broke again and again as she tried not to wake the child.
“You said you’d take good care of her. That you’d give her a better life—away from Evehill, in a bigger world…”
“…”
“You promised to give her everything—love her more than the Duke of Longtern ever could—
and raise her well… you said you would…”
Her hands clenched so hard her nails broke.
Through her torn sleeves, her arms and shoulders were covered in dark bruises.
She had reached through the iron bars again and again,
beating the lock with a sharp rock she’d found on the floor—thousands of times.
Her upper body had scraped against the wood until her skin tore.
Her fingers were crushed, nails ripped off—
but she had still escaped.
Because she had to see her child—
to see if the girl she raised was still alive.
“Who do you think you are!?”
Her hoarse voice cracked as it echoed through the room.
The servant’s eyes filled with both fear and grief.
“You should have protected her! No matter what happened—you should’ve kept her safe!!”
Anne’s chest heaved with sobs.
If blood could weep, this was what it would feel like.
She had cared for so many children—some she’d raised, some she’d lost.
She had loved each one of them deeply, equally.
But Annelia—
Annelia had been special.
So precious that her heart had overflowed beyond reason.
“She was my treasure—my pride—my one and only angel in this whole world!”
“…”
“And you people—how dare you hurt my child like this!!”
Her furious cry turned into helpless sobbing.
Even the servant began to cry silently, unable to speak.
Then—
“…Teacher…?”
A faint voice came from the bed.
Anne’s head snapped up in shock.
Annelia had opened her eyes and was staring at her.
“Annelia!”
“…Miss Anne?”
The servant covered her mouth in disbelief.
Within seconds, the door burst open.
People flooded into the room—
Sharon Abner, Wendel, the butler, soldiers, maids—everyone from the main house.
But neither Anne nor Annelia turned to look.
“Are you really Miss Anne…?”
Annelia asked again, her voice weak and trembling.
Anne’s eyes filled with tears once more.
“Yes, Annelia. It’s me. It’s your teacher. I’m here now…”
The girl’s dry lips moved faintly.
Her pale ivory eyes slowly traced Anne’s face—
and then, glimmering with tears, her gaze softened.
“Teacher…”
Her voice cracked as she began to cry.
Large, glistening tears rolled down her cheeks.
“It… it hurts…”
“Annelia…”
Sharon Abner stood in the doorway, her face rigid as she took in the scene.
Her eyes moved to Anne’s torn hands and bruised arms.
“My back… it hurts so much…”
Annelia burst into sobs.
“M-my stomach too… and my arm… it all hurts…”
“Annelia, oh my—what should we do…?”
Miel, Soya, Wendel, Sharon, and even the others who had doubted Anne Clarke—all stood frozen, speechless.
The child who had been attacked and fallen down the stairs had never cried once.
Even as she bled, she had calmly repeated, “I’m fine.”
But now—
“Why… why did you come so late? It hurts, it hurts so much, hnghh…”
The sound of her sobs filled the room.
Sharon Abner turned and quietly stepped out.
Her voice was calm but heavy.
“…Call the doctor again.”
Wendel nodded immediately, without asking why.
Then he turned to the attendants.
“Go fetch the physician,” he ordered.
This time, the doctor wasn’t being called for Annelia.
It was for someone else.
