Her mother hanged herself before her eyes.

That was the story of her seventh birthday.

A whore's daughter. An abandoned child. Dirty blood. The servants' whispers and her older siblings' sneers echo in her ears. At a table no one came to join, she ate food as cold as it was every other day.

That is the story of her eighth birthday.

The servants' bullying. Her older brother's lies. Her older sisters' testimony. She was locked in her room for something she had never done. She spent the day watching the sunset fade beyond the window.

That is the story of her eleventh birthday.

No one.

Twelve.

Ever came.

Thirteen.

False accusations, lies, things she had never done, bullying, cold food, sneers, mockery, a whore's daughter. An abandoned child. A day filled with nothing but ridicule.

Fourteen.

Alone in her room, Dieta smiled into the mirror.

Fourteen.

Her mask was complete. Even before her mother's grave, her eyes no longer wavered. She felt certain that she could now laugh everything off.

And so, on her fifteenth birthday, Dieta left the family.

Having sworn that someday she would return to this place and swallow them all whole.

2.

In a dark cell that admitted not a scrap of sunlight, Dieta curled up, hugging her knees.

Her ankles hurt. Having barely slept for the past three days, she kept finding her eyes drifting shut, only for the throbbing in her ankles to wake her.

Sleep deprivation. Pain. And hunger.

Meals that reeked of drugs. Cloudy water offered without even an attempt to conceal it. She could not readily touch any of it, not knowing what they had mixed in or what they had done to it. Everything in the villa was suspect.

There were no allies here.

Everything was an enemy, and everything was a trap.

Nerves stretched taut brought exhaustion with them. But Dieta had no way to relieve that exhaustion now. Her mind, gnawed away over the past three days, was finally beginning to reach its limits. Her mask wavered, and her dulled thoughts left her head in chaos.

'A plan. A way out. Means I can use.'

Under normal circumstances, she might have found a way. But she could not do so even now, driven to her limit. It was as though fog filled her head; her thoughts would not connect properly.

At last, Dieta reached her breaking point.

The mask concealing her face finally fell away.

The Snake That Swallows Gold. The young merchant magnate who had written a success story in the City of Opportunity. A prodigy of investment. A genius among geniuses with the makings of a great merchant...

The dazzling adornments that embellished Dieta Arbenia began to fall away one by one. The mask, the uniform of a trading company head, the expensive accessories—everything she had built up to increase her worth fell away.

Once everything had been stripped bare, what remained was neither the Snake That Swallows Gold, nor Arbenia's abandoned child, nor Dieta Arbenia.

All that remained there was a single girl, curled tightly into herself. A girl wounded, damaged, and festering, who had dressed herself in splendor to hide those things.

Dieta curled up a little tighter. Hugging her knees, she buried her face in them.

Her lips trembled, and the corners of her eyes twitched. Then tears rolled down her cheeks. She could not even remember the last time she had cried, yet once the tears began, they would not stop.

The emotions she had held down beneath her mask were spilling out. Things she had laughed off, ignored, and passed over as though they meant nothing. Those little things had found their trigger and overflowed. Her shoulders trembling faintly, Dieta clenched her teeth.

Her mask had fallen away.

She needed a new one.

She needed a stronger, more intricate mask, one that would never come off again. Cornered, Dieta slowly began to come apart. That was precisely what Osman, who had planned this situation, intended... but there was one thing he had misunderstood.

A damaged person does not necessarily give up.

Dieta was tenacity itself.

He could damage her, but he could not break her will.

With her teeth clenched, Dieta spoke to herself.

She would trust no one anymore.

Tonight, once she had emptied herself of every remaining emotion and put on a new mask... she would never take it off again.

They would sell her off in a political marriage? Squeeze the last of her value out of her? Let them. Let them try all they liked.

She would sell everything she could sell. Use every means at her disposal. Even if she had to throw herself into a pit of fire, she would live for the next chance. Without fail, she would return to this place and swallow them all whole.

... It is through hardship, trials, and pain that children become adults. Pitch-black flames rose in Dieta's vivid yellow eyes.

It bears repeating.

Dieta Arbenia was a genius.

She was simply not yet complete. Her talent for judging the flow of money and value, for seizing gold, was unrivaled. Given enough time, she had the makings of a great merchant who would grasp the trade routes and rise to the very top, and of a power broker who could hold people in her sway.

But she had not yet been able to discard what she needed to discard to become complete.

What was that?

Her humanity. The person called Dieta behind the mask.

A genius who experiences failure learns from it.

They say that pain which does not kill you only makes you stronger. Contrary to her bodyguard's fears, Dieta would not make a foolish choice such as ending her own life here, or giving in to despair and falling apart.

She would become more thorough.

More perfect.

More relentless.

But that, in other words... was her death as 'Dieta.' Once tonight was over, the girl called Dieta would be gone without a trace. Only the Snake That Swallows Gold would remain.

'Still, one night should be all right.'

The night that came to the cell, where the passage of time could not be felt, was long, so very long. The snake that had not yet shed its skin poured out its emotions to spend its final day as Dieta.

She cried pathetically, her shoulders shaking, her face buried in her knees as she let out choked breaths.

It happened then.

PATTER.

Wood fragments fell onto Dieta's head.

Slowly, Dieta raised her head. Not a single ray of light entered the cell. Yet a pure-white light was gleaming on the ceiling.

Then came a sound.

SH slice.

The light moved. As it traced a rectangle, part of the ceiling was cut away. Only then did Dieta realize that the shining light was sword aura.

TAP.

Someone entered the room through the hole cut in the ceiling. The figure landed softly on the floor, their face hidden by the darkness. She could only sense their presence. Terrified, Dieta caught her breath.

WHOOSH.

The unknown figure took a lamp from inside their clothing. A sunset-colored mineral cast a dim glow through the room. In that faint light, Dieta met the intruder's eyes.

"... Ivan?"

Gray hair and sunset-colored eyes.

Someone she had never imagined seeing stood before her.

3.

Dieta blinked blankly.

Was she hallucinating?

Why was he here? He should have had neither a reason to come nor any way of doing so.

"Your bodyguard, Pasion, asked me."

Najin spoke to Dieta as she continued to blink. He set the mineral lamp down before her, then bent his knees to meet her eyes.

"He asked me to be a carrier pigeon so you could communicate with the outside world. That's what I came here to do, but..."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

He had noticed how gaunt she had become in just a few days, and her ankles with their severed tendons. Letting out a long breath, he continued.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask me to do?"

"How..."

Dieta murmured in a trembling voice.

The man who had suddenly appeared before her.

His presence left her deeply flustered. Pasion had asked him? He would act as a carrier pigeon? Turning his words over in her mind, Dieta blinked.

Her mind would not work properly.

The person sitting here now was not the Snake That Swallows Gold, but simply Dieta. The girl could not keep up with this sudden turn of events. Normally, she would never have let such a golden opportunity slip past her...

"Why..."

The girl found herself murmuring.

"Why did you accept the commission?"

Was it because she felt affection for the man before her?

Or because he was the only person she could feel at ease with, because the time she had spent with him in Cambria had been so enjoyable?

Or was it all of those things?

Dieta asked again in a trembling voice.

"There's nothing... in this for you. It's dangerous. Getting involved with the ducal house means risking your life."

She could not help it.

Her joy at his coming to see her lasted only a moment before she found herself thinking that the man before her must not get involved with her.

"Why...?"

Dieta knew.

She knew how great a price this would demand. She knew it meant confronting the ducal House Arbenia head-on, and that he might have to stake his life on it.

Not as a merchant who never missed an opportunity, but simply as a human being, Dieta found herself thinking that she must not draw him into this situation. If he became entangled with her, he too would fall to the bottom. She did not want to see him fall—a man so like her, yet walking an entirely different path.

Above all, it was unfamiliar.

She had never experienced such kindness, such convenient turns of fate, such things that belonged in fairy tales. That was why, even in this situation, Dieta could not help asking.

Why had he done it?

She had to ask his reason.

"What do you mean, why?"

Najin merely answered as though she were asking something obvious.

"Remember what I promised last time?"

"... Promised?"

"That I'd help you once, no questions asked. That's what I promised."

He had indeed.

A promise with no written contract, no record of any kind—the only proof was her memory of their conversation as they watched the sunset.

Just... because of that?

He was doing this to keep a promise that amounted to no more than a few words, one no one would blame him for breaking?

As Dieta blinked, unable to understand, Najin continued.

"So."

"You don't have to weigh everything up either. Just say it. Leave complicated questions like why and what for until later."

Help me.

If she said those words, then—

"I'll help you."

The price, the risks, the danger, the ducal House Arbenia—to hell with all of it. He would help. He had decided, so all she had to do was ask.

It was such an easy thing to say.

Such an utterly convenient story.

Yet the moment her eyes met Najin's, looking straight at her, Dieta's lips were moving. With her face a tear-streaked mess, she spoke in a murmur. What escaped her lips was the girl's true desire.

"From here..."

Dieta spoke.

"Please get me out of here."

Her voice was so small it seemed to shrink into itself. The moment he heard it, Najin nodded readily. He did not ask whether she had a plan, what she intended to do once she got out, or whether she had a way... He simply gave a short answer.

"All right."

Najin stood.

He switched off the mineral lamp with a click and tucked it inside his clothing, plunging the room back into darkness. Dieta blinked as the cell went dark in an instant.

BOOOOOM!

The wall shook.

Dieta flinched, then slowly opened her eyes. Through the rising dust, she saw it: moonlight spilling into the cell that had held nothing but darkness.

Najin had simply kicked the boards nailed over the window and smashed them to pieces. Dieta blinked blankly at an act that was downright refreshing.

Moonlight, or perhaps starlight, spilled in. Bathed in that platinum glow, Najin's gray hair shone.

"We can take our time deciding where to go."

For now, let's leave.

Saying that, Najin approached Dieta.

THUD, THUD, THUD.

Footsteps rang through the corridor in response to the commotion Najin had caused. It was probably the knights coming. But as though he did not care, Najin bent his knees and lifted Dieta into his arms.

Carefully, so that his hands would not touch her ankles.

Yet firmly enough that he would not drop her.

Holding Dieta, Najin pushed off the floor and leaped out the window. Amid the shifting scenery, she looked up at his face. His hood was pulled low, hiding it from view, but she could still see his eyes.

Sunset-colored eyes.

As though entranced, Dieta stared blankly into them.

4.

"You expect me to believe that?"

Griffin, commander of the ducal House Arbenia's knights, had summoned every knight dispatched to the villa to hear their reports on the previous night's incident. He slammed his hand down on the table.

"He didn't just break into the villa. He cut through the ceiling and smashed the window on his way out, and not one of you saw him? Do you think that makes any sense?"

That was understandable for the servants.

The sudden fire had thrown the villa into chaos, and if a fighter of sufficient skill made a determined effort to sneak in, the servants could hardly be expected to notice.

But the knights were different.

It made no sense that trained knights had failed to detect him.

"I asked whether it makes sense that seven knights were guarding the place, and not one of them saw the intruder."

Seven. No fewer than seven well-trained knights.

Was it remotely plausible that someone had evaded their eyes and ears, then brazenly abducted the imprisoned duke's daughter? Griffin dragged a hand down his face and stood.

"Move aside. I'll see for myself."

With a sigh, Griffin set off.

Things had taken a strange turn. This was an unforeseen complication, and even Osman's eyes had widened when he received the report. Something utterly unimaginable had happened.

Someone had infiltrated the ducal house's villa and abducted the duke's daughter.

It was difficult even to gauge how absurd that single sentence was, or how great an upheaval it would cause. This was a major incident directly tied to the reputation of the ducal House Arbenia, and it must never leak to the outside world.

They had to resolve it before it grew any larger.

Clutching his throbbing head, Griffin examined the traces left in the villa. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the route the intruder appeared to have taken.

'Seven Sword Experts.'

To slip past all seven without betraying even a hint of his presence, then abduct the duke's daughter—it would not have been easy even for Griffin, a Sword Seeker. It would have been far simpler to go in through the front and beat the shit out of them.

'A Ranger?'

A Ranger was the first possibility that came to mind.

Was there a Ranger among the people Dieta Arbenia could command? There were certainly a few skilled Rangers in Cambria.

The first to come to mind was Kaufman Theosis.

Kaufman Theosis, a Ranger of the Techel Mountains whose strength was judged equal to a Sword Seeker's. If he had cooperated with Dieta, tracking them would indeed be impossible. But Griffin did not think that man would get involved in something like this.

'What kind of lunatic would...?'

Griffin let out a long sigh.

The plan had gone awry, and the situation had been overturned.

A situation like this demanded swift judgment and action. Having roughly assessed its gravity, Griffin made his decision. He called over one of the knights following behind him.

"Tell Duke Osman," he said, "that I will organize a pursuit force to hunt down the scoundrel who infiltrated the ducal house."

And—

"Tell him I will lead it myself."