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Ariel sat on the cold ground, clutching her aching stomach. Her body shivered from hunger and fatigue.
That was when she noticed him — a young man watching her from across the fire. His dark hair glimmered under the flame's glow, and his eyes held a quiet sadness, as if he, too, carried chains heavier than the ones on his wrists.
He stood and walked toward her, ignoring the hunters' glares. Sitting beside her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of bread and a bottle of water.
Ariel blinked, hesitant.
He gave her a gentle nod. "Take it," he said softly.
She hesitated for a moment — then hunger won. She grabbed the bread and devoured it greedily, drinking the water as if it were life itself.
When she finally stopped, she looked at him — her lips trembling, eyes shining with tears.
"Thank you…" she whispered.
The boy smiled faintly, a flicker of warmth in the cold night.
"Don't thank me," he said. "We all deserve kindness — even in chains."
---
The night deepened over Senpai. The fire crackled, throwing restless shadows on the captives.
Ariel sat quietly beside the wooden post that bound her, her head heavy, her heart heavier.
The bread and water she'd received from the strange boy were long gone, but the kindness behind the gesture still warmed her from within.
For the first time in days, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Beth… I miss you. Please, don't forget me."
---
Back at the Thomas Mansion...
Morning sunlight slipped through the grand windows, but the house felt colder than ever.
Beth sat by the piano, staring blankly at the keys, her mind lost somewhere between fear and confusion. Ariel had been gone for two nights — vanished without a word.
Felicia walked in gracefully, her crimson gown sweeping across the floor like a trail of fire. Her perfume filled the room before her voice did — sweet, but sharp as a blade.
"There you are," she said smoothly, her tone motherly but cold. "I was wondering where my daughter had hidden herself."
Beth looked up immediately. "Mother, where's Ariel? No one's seen her since that night. She wouldn't just disappear like that."
Felicia sighed heavily, resting a dramatic hand on her chest. "Oh, Beth, I didn't want to tell you this, but… Ariel ran away."
Beth's brows furrowed. "Ran away? No, she wouldn't! Where's dad?"
Felicia's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Well, promises mean nothing to people like her. She stole money from your father's drawer and vanished into the dark. We searched — nothing. She's gone."
Beth stood, trembling. "That's a lie!" she snapped, tears glistening in her eyes. "Ariel would never steal! She's not like that, Mother. You know she isn't!"
Felicia's smile hardened. "Don't raise your voice at me, young lady."
She stepped closer, her tone now sharp, dripping with poison.
"You think you know her? You think she's your sister?" She let out a short, cruel laugh. "Ariel is not your cousin, Beth. She's not even blood! Your uncle took her in because he pitied her mother — that witch — before she died."
Beth froze. "What… what did you say?"
Felicia leaned in, her perfume suffocating, her eyes dark.
"Oh yes. A witch, Beth. A woman who dabbled in dark magic and death. People feared her for a reason. That same cursed blood runs through Ariel's veins. I should've never allowed her to stay in this house. She's a danger to us — to you."
Beth shook her head violently, stepping back. "No! Ariel's mother was kind! She loved everyone — and Ariel… Ariel is good! You can't make me believe otherwise."
Felicia's perfect smile twisted into something ugly. "You're defending a girl who probably laughs at your stupidity right now — sitting somewhere with your father's stolen money. Open your eyes, Beth. That girl is nothing but trouble."
But Beth's tears turned to defiance. She wiped her cheeks and raised her chin, her voice trembling but strong.
"She's my family," Beth said firmly. "I don't care what you say — I love her, and I'll never hate her."
Felicia glared at her daughter, fury flashing in her eyes. "You foolish child," she hissed. "One day, you'll see I was right. And when you do, don't expect my sympathy."
She turned sharply and stormed out, her heels echoing like gunfire down the marble hall.
Beth stood there, her heart pounding. She clutched the small ribbon Ariel had left her — the one she'd tied in her hair the night before she vanished.
"Ariel," she whispered, staring out the window as thunder rumbled across the distant sky,
"I don't believe a word she said. I know you didn't run away… and I'll find you. No matter how far you've gone."
Lightning flashed outside — and for a fleeting moment, Beth thought she saw Ariel's reflection in the glass, whispering her name back through the storm.