The head maid stood to the side, quietly watching as Lady Amelia—so often cold and distant—suddenly looked like someone entirely new.
Like someone remembering who she once was… and who she might become.
Come on! Come on!" Mary giggled, tugging at Amelia's hand with surprising strength. "You have to meet everyone! They missed you!"
Before she could protest, Amelia found herself being pulled into the lively courtyard where a few children played under the dappled shade of an old oak tree.
"Prince! Prince! She's here today too!" Mary yelled excitedly.
Prince? Amelia raised a brow, amused. Now they're playing fairy tales?
Then, she saw him.
A tall figure, clad in a dark shirt and rolled sleeves, stood among the children, wielding a wooden sword with surprising grace. A black mask covered the upper half of his face, but his presence was unmistakable. His hair—raven-black—was tousled and damp around the edges, and his broad frame looked comically large compared to the tiny kids clinging to his legs and arms.
He glanced up briefly. Their eyes met.
Even from a distance, Amelia felt the heat behind that gaze.
But just as quickly, he looked away—and resumed playfully sparring with a young boy pretending to be a dragon.
Mary cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Prince! Save Princess Amelia!"
Amelia burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Princess? I don't need a Prince Charming."
She turned toward a group of curious boys who had surrounded her, each daring the other to ask her to play. With a dramatic sigh, she lifted the hem of her gown slightly above her ankles. "Fine," she declared. "Catch me if you can!"
The children screamed in joy, chasing after her.
She darted through the courtyard, laughing as the wind teased her hair and the hem of her gown fluttered like wings behind her. It's been so long since I've felt this free.
But in her glee, she didn't notice the low stone ledge near the fountain.
Her foot struck it.
Everything tilted.
She let out a surprised gasp as she began to fall—
—and strong arms caught her mid-air.
A firm chest. A steady grip.
She blinked, breathless, as she looked up into the masked face of the mysterious man. His black hair fell slightly over the edge of the mask, and his hold on her didn't waver.
For a heartbeat, neither moved.
The world around them—the children's laughter, the rustling trees—blurred into silence.
"Careful," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Princesses aren't supposed to fall."
Amelia stared at him, caught off guard not just by his strength, but by the quiet warmth in his voice.
Then she smirked. "Good thing I'm not a real princess, then."
He raised a brow beneath the mask but said nothing as he gently set her back on her feet.
Mary squealed. "He caught her! The prince caught her!"
The kids erupted into cheers.
Amelia, brushing her skirt and regaining her balance, stole one last glance at the masked man.
Who are you…?
After playing with the children for a while longer, a kind-faced caretaker came out from the small cottage beside the courtyard. She smiled warmly at Amelia and walked beside her, her voice filled with gratitude.
"Thank you, Lady Amelia," she said. "Your support has done so much. The children have more food, more blankets… they even have proper books now. We know you're always busy, but your kindness never stops reaching us."
Amelia blinked, taken aback. So, the real Amelia gave most of her allowance here? Even when she barely had much herself?
From across the yard, the man in the black mask stood silently, leaning against the tree, watching. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. Something about his presence made her heart beat a little faster.
The head maid approached, her tone soft but firm. "My lady, we must leave now."
Amelia nodded and waved goodbye to the children. Mary ran up and hugged her tightly. "You'll come back, right? You promised!"
She smiled and gently ruffled the girl's hair. "I'll try."
Back in the carriage, silence settled between Amelia and the head maid. The ride home felt longer this time. Her mind wandered.
So that's where she always went… to the orphanage. Even without much, she still gave. That's something. She rested her head against the cushioned side of the carriage. She's kind, selfless. I admire that. But I won't be timid like her. No. I can be good, but not soft. Not in a world like this.
The carriage rolled into the estate courtyard just as the sun began to dip.
By the time she returned to her room, she was drained. Her shoes kicked off, her hat tossed to the side, she let herself collapse on the plush chaise.
She didn't have long to rest.
Grace knocked and entered without waiting. "The Viscount requests your presence, my lady. He's in his study."
Amelia groaned inwardly but forced herself up. "Alright, I'm coming."
Inside the study, the Viscount—Amelia's father—barely looked up from his papers.
"Tomorrow," he said, signing something with a flick of his pen, "we are going to the Blackmoor estate. We'll discuss the final arrangements for your engagement."
Amelia's stomach twisted. So soon?
She smiled faintly and nodded. "As you wish, Father."
Back in her room, she shut the door and paced. Her thoughts wouldn't stop.
Who is this Duke Dorian Blackmoor? Everyone talks about how terrifying he is, how powerful. But that's not enough. I need more. I need details. I need a face. I need a plan.
"Grace," she called.
Grace returned with a curious tilt of her head.
"What does he look like?" Amelia asked, more firmly than usual. "Not just the usual rumors. I want everything. His mannerisms, how he speaks, how he carries himself—everything."
Grace blinked. "Everyone says the same, my lady. That he's a war hero, a man who killed with his bare hands. His temper is… unpredictable. People say his eyes alone make you shiver."
Amelia narrowed her eyes. "Ugh. That's not helpful. What if I have to survive months in that house? I need to know what I'm walking into. Or maybe I should start saving money now—run away before they marry me off like cattle."
Grace looked alarmed. "My lady—"
"Never mind," Amelia sighed, waving her off. "Just let me rest."
She dismissed her and sank into bed, exhausted.
That night, the dream returned.
The same strange dream she'd been having since she arrived in this world.
Only… this time, something had changed.
She was in the dark forest again. The leaves whispered above, and that same cloaked man with burning eyes stood before her. But he didn't grab her like before.
This time, he reached out a hand.
"Come with me," he said softly, his voice no longer angry or threatening. It was deep. Calm. Almost… familiar.
She hesitated, but took his hand.
He led her through the woods, past trees that shimmered silver in the moonlight.
She almost felt safe—until they reached a clearing.
He turned to her.
And without warning—stabbed her.
Amelia gasped.
Pain. So vivid it stole her breath.
She fell.
Her last thought before everything went black was Why…?
She awoke with a strangled cry, sitting up in her bed drenched in sweat.
The room was silent. The night is still.
She clutched her chest.
Why did he kill me this time? Why did the dream change?