Her father, the Marquis Dalton, was a man devoid of pride. Greedy, selfish, and utterly lacking in compassion or mercy.
> “Don’t speak to the lowborn, Roxana. If word gets out that you, a mere girl and already worthless, were chatting with commoners in society, your value will only plummet further.”
> “Harold, if you don’t have money, raise the rent! And if they can’t pay, tell them to sell their daughters. There are plenty of brothels, aren’t there? If they don’t like that, let them become serfs!”
> “Lower taxes because you’re starving? Peasants exist solely to serve their lord! How dare they rise up? Find the ringleader and execute them publicly!”
With the lord’s approval, the people under the Marquisate committed countless atrocities. Starving peasants were publicly executed, and parents unable to endure the backbreaking labor and heavy taxes ended up selling their daughters. The once-free residents, now reduced to serfs, were treated like livestock — denied even basic human dignity.
Roxana hadn’t simply stood by and watched her father’s cruelty. With Mary’s help, she secretly hid her identity and supported the poorhouses. She reached out to pregnant women dying from neglect and gave recommendations and overdue wages to maids unjustly dismissed from the castle.
But that had been just two weeks ago. Eventually, her secret nighttime outings were discovered. Enraged, Marquis Dalton placed her under house arrest.
> “Useless wretch. I thought you’d finally settled down after your mother died of illness two years ago… Stay in seclusion until your wedding to your fiancé!”
In the end, Roxana was stripped of her freedom and confined to the top of the main tower. All she received each day was one meal of oat porridge and hard bread. Her health deteriorated from weakness and shock.
> “No one’s coming to save us.”
> “What do you mean…?”
> “Think about it, Harold. Even if royal authority isn’t what it once was, do you really believe such an invasion could happen without His Majesty’s approval?”
The intruders may have seemed like mere peasants, but on closer inspection, they were no different from trained soldiers. Under the command of a man in a black helmet, they moved with perfect coordination, surrounding the castle and subduing everyone inside. This was a well-honed, disciplined army.
> “This is the price we must pay. We need to accept it.”
As Roxana spoke, Harold’s face contorted. After a moment of thought, his expression twisted with suspicion.
> “You… You colluded with them, didn’t you?!”
> “What?”
> “That’s it! You were bitter about being locked up, so you got someone to open the gates! Otherwise, this fortress couldn’t have fallen so quickly! This is all your fault!”
Roxana said nothing. His bloodshot eyes widened in rage.
> “I’ll kill you! You witch who betrayed your own father!”
Harold lunged at her and wrapped his thick hands around her neck. Pain shot through her as his rough grip tightened. Though her face turned pale, none of the armed men stepped in to stop him. Roxana felt her consciousness fading and closed her eyes.
Then—
> “Aaaaargh!”
Something splattered on her face, followed by a bloodcurdling scream.
When she opened her eyes, Harold had collapsed beside her, pale and lifeless. Before she could process what happened, a low voice pierced her ears.
> “Do all the Dalton family act so hastily?”
She looked up and saw a man towering above her, bloodied longsword in hand.
He was the one in the black helmet—the leader of the invading force.
Overwhelmed by the pressure radiating from him, Roxana shrank back. His broad shoulders and towering frame made others instinctively bow. A head taller than most, with sharp features and a natural air of authority. As he stepped closer, even his own men stepped back.
> “You’re going to be hanged anyway, yet you’re fighting over who gets to die first.”
Their eyes met, and Roxana gasped. Though he was smiling, the air around him was suffocating. The glint in his eyes within the helmet made her unable to move.
> “I heard the Dalton family had a daughter too shameful to be seen in society. Let’s see.”
His approach rendered her speechless. The man studied her face closely, as if inspecting every inch—even beneath her dress. Roxana trembled when he grabbed her chin. Somehow, it all felt familiar. Just as the strange sensation settled over her, the man removed his gauntlet and reached out to her.
She couldn’t dodge. His large, rough hand wiped away the soot, dust, and blood from her face.
> “Not an ugly one.”
He hummed as if satisfied, then ordered Harold’s corpse to be cleared away.
> “Now, shall we continue our conversation?”
Apparently annoyed that she was looking elsewhere, the man knelt to meet her gaze. He reached out again and swept her disheveled hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against the back of her neck, and the heat from his touch burned her skin. Regaining her senses, Roxana slapped his hand away.
> “Touching a lady without consent? Do you not know chivalry?”
> “Chivalry?”
The man chuckled softly, echoing her words. The knights around him also began to snicker, mocking her. Flushed with humiliation, Roxana nevertheless spoke firmly.
> “Please spare the surrendered soldiers and knights. And take the maids, servants, and peasants as your own people—not as serfs, but as free citizens.”
It was a bold request. The man tilted his head.
> “Why would I?”
> “If you promise to do so, I will personally hand over the Marquis’s seal.”
At that, he fell silent. The seal—proof of dominion over a territory. No matter how forcefully a land was taken, without it, one could not be recognized as its rightful lord.
Despite the cold sinking into her bones, Roxana straightened her neck.
> “If you refuse, you’ll never find it. I’ve hidden it where no one can reach it.”
She had sent Mary away and spent her final hours ensuring this plan. It was her duty as the lord’s daughter—to protect the people her father had failed.
> “How insolent!”
> “Torture her until she talks!”
Outraged, the knights hurled curses. Even surrounded by such murderous threats, Roxana remained calm. Just as her lips turned deathly blue, laughter suddenly shattered the grim air.
> “Hahaha!”
The man stood and placed a hand on his sword. In the blink of an eye, its blue-glowing blade grazed Roxana’s neck. A burning sting, and her bright red hair fell like straw.
> “If you schemed all this to save your life, then congrats—it worked. But I’ve no desire to claim this wretched land. I don’t need the seal. I’ll just turn this place into a wasteland.”
He trampled on her pride, rejecting even her desperate courage. Roxana stood speechless, her mind blank. Slowly, the man removed his helmet.
The first thing revealed was his jet-black hair. It was oddly familiar, and Roxana’s eyes began to tremble violently.
Then came the eyes—grey like a wolf’s. Once a vibrant, mysterious shade of ash, now impossibly dark and cold.
> “Go ahead. Beg, Roxana. Who knows? If you grovel sweetly enough, maybe I’ll spare you.”
He gently traced the blade along her neck. Sitting in the blood-soaked dirt, Roxana stared blankly at the stranger.
> You… you died. Didn’t you?
> My first love…
—
—
> “Curtis Russell. I’m thirteen.”
> “I’ll treasure you more than anything, Roxana. More than any jewel.”
The boy from her dreams.
Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. Was she hallucinating? No—the sensations were far too vivid.
> “They said… you were dead.”
The man who massacred the Russell border family was none other than her father, Marquis Dalton. Using forged evidence and witnesses, he accused them of treason. He burned their estate, and even the children were executed. Not even remains were left—thrown to the wild dogs.
> “I survived hell. My attendant died in my place.”
> “No… it can’t be…”
At his simple reply, Roxana bowed her head. It felt like a beast’s paw crushed her throat. Shock, sorrow, joy, and anguish
—guilt beyond words.
Raindrops began to fall—slowly at first, then in torrents over their heads. Beneath the downpour, Roxana’s thin shoulders quivered in silence.
Curtis, quietly watching her, gently called her name.
