Cassius watched through the window as Lyra hurried back toward the servants' quarters. Her posture was too rigid, her steps too quick. She was rattled.
Good.
[You're enjoying this too much.]
'Can you blame me?' Cassius thought, turning away from the window. 'A runaway noble pretending to be a maid? It's almost entertaining.'
He settled into his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest. The confrontation had confirmed that she was indeed Lyra Winter.
But there was something else. Something that bothered him more than her obvious disguise.
She'd been watching him. Not with curiosity or fear, but with something closer to... concern?
[She's hiding something beyond just her identity.]
'Obviously,' Cassius thought. 'But what?'
He pulled out a piece of parchment and began making notes.
**Known:**
- Lyra Winter, Duke Winter's daughter
- Ran away from an arranged marriage
- Has access to high-grade alchemical potions
- Used the name "Lisa" when meeting a stranger in an alley
**Unknown:**
- Why she chose the Blackwood estate specifically
- Why she chose to serve him specifically
- Why she saved a random child in an alley
- What she's really watching for
Cassius ran his pen over her application
Name: Lina
Age: 13
Talents: Alchemy level 3, tea level 2, table setting level 4, etc etc
Wait.
Lina?
Cassius's pen froze mid-stroke.
'I called her Lisa during our confrontation.'
And the name on her application was Lina.
[Oh. That's a problem.]
'How did I even know to call her Lisa?' Cassius thought, his mind racing. The only person who knew that name was "Casian" the disguised boy she'd saved in the alley. But she had no way of knowing Casian and Cassius were the same person.
Unless she'd figured it out.
[Did she react when you called her Lisa?]
Cassius tried to remember. She'd corrected him smoothly, saying "Lina is my name, young master. Perhaps you misheard." No trembling hands, no widened eyes, no shock.
Either she was an excellent actress, or...
'Or she didn't notice the slip because she's been thinking of herself as "Lisa" this whole time,' Cassius realized. 'Which means that's the name she's comfortable with. The name she chose for herself.'
But why use a different name on the application?
[Maybe she wanted to distance her maid identity from the girl in the alley? In case anyone came asking questions about a girl named Lisa who threw potions at people?]
That made sense. If someone connected "Lisa" from the merchant district incident to "Lina" the new Blackwood maid, it could expose her.
'But I called her Lisa without thinking,' Cassius frowned. 'If she's smart, and she clearly is, she might start wondering how I knew that name.'
[You could say you overheard servants gossiping about the incident?]
'Possibly. But that's a weak excuse.' Cassius tapped his pen against the paper. 'I need to be more careful. One slip like that could unravel everything.'
He added another line to his notes:
**IMPORTANT: Called her "Lisa" during confrontation. Application says "Lina." Need to prepare excuse if she questions this. Claim misread application? Overheard servants? Monitor her reaction carefully.**
[You're overthinking this.]
'Better to overthink than to make another mistake,' Cassius thought.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Young master?" A servant's voice. "Your sword instructor has arrived."
Cassius glanced at the clock. Already? He'd lost track of time.
"Tell him I'll be there shortly," Cassius called back.
He looked down at his notes one more time before folding the parchment and tucking it into a hidden compartment in his desk. Whatever Lyra Winter was planning, he'd figure it out eventually.
But first, he needed to make sure his own secrets stayed hidden.
***
The training hall was empty except for Master Rothgan, a grizzled veteran who'd served the Blackwood family for decades. He was one of the few people in the estate Cassius almost respected, he was brutally honest and had no patience for noble pretense.
"You're late," Rothgan said without looking up from the blade he was inspecting.
"By three minutes," Cassius replied, picking up his practice sword.
"Three minutes is enough time to die twice in real combat." Rothgan finally looked at him. "Your form yesterday was sloppy. We're starting from basics today."
Cassius bit back a sigh. But he couldn't exactly tell Rothgan that he'd spent ten years training in his past life.
[Just go along with it. You need to maintain your cover as a newly awakened swordsman.]
"First position," Rothgan commanded.
Cassius moved into stance, deliberately making small errors that Rothgan would notice and correct. He needed to be good enough to make his father proud but not too good that he'd arouse suspicion.
"Your footwork is off," Rothgan circled him. "You're favoring your left leg. Old injury?"
'Observant,' Cassius thought. In his past life, he'd broken his left leg during a dungeon raid when he was seventeen.
"I twisted it during training," Cassius lied smoothly.
Rothgan struck without warning, his practice blade aimed at Cassius's shoulder. Instinct took over and Cassius parried, too perfectly, with a technique beyond a ten-year-old who'd awakened days ago.
Rothgan's eyes narrowed.
'Damn it.'
"Interesting," Rothgan lowered his blade. "Where did you learn that counter?"
Cassius's mind raced. "I... I'm not sure. It just felt natural?"
"Natural." Rothgan's tone made it clear he didn't believe that. "Young master, that was a mercenary technique. Not something taught in noble sword schools."
[Well, this is awkward.]
"Perhaps it's something I picked up from watching the guards?" Cassius offered.
"Our guards don't use mercenary techniques." Rothgan crossed his arms. "That counter requires muscle memory. Training."
Cassius remained silent.
"You've been training in secret, haven't you?" Rothgan said slowly. "Before your awakening."
'He's giving me an out,' Cassius realized. Rothgan wasn't going to report this, he was offering to keep it between them.
"If I were to tell you that I've had some... unofficial training, would that remain between us?"
Rothgan studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. Here's how this is going to work. In public, we'll continue with 'basics.' In private, we'll see just how good you really are." He paused. "And young master? Don't make me regret this."
***
Two hours later, Cassius limped back to his quarters, body aching from Rothgan's "evaluation."
[That went better than expected.]
'Easy for you to say,' Cassius thought, collapsing into a chair. 'You don't have a body.'
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," Cassius called.
Lyra stepped inside, carrying a tea tray. Her movements were controlled now, the earlier nervousness replaced by careful neutrality.
"I brought your afternoon tea, young master," she said formally.
"Did I ask for tea?"
"The head butler insists all personal maids provide afternoon service." She set the tray down with practiced ease.
'She's done this before,' Cassius realized, watching her pour. 'Those movements are too natural.'
[Is she going to bring up the Lisa/Lina thing?]
Cassius watched her carefully, but Lyra showed no signs of suspicion. Either she hadn't noticed his slip, or she was biding her time.
"Tell me, Lina," Cassius said, deliberately emphasizing the correct name this time. "How are you finding your duties so far?"
"They're manageable, young master." She handed him the teacup, her expression neutral.
'No reaction,' Cassius noted. 'Either she really didn't notice, or she's better at hiding her thoughts than I gave her credit for.'
"Though I must say," Cassius continued carefully, "it's quite a coincidence. A girl with your talents appearing right after an incident in the merchant district involving expensive potions."
Now her hand did tremble, just slightly. "I don't know what you mean, young master"
"Don't you?" Cassius leaned back. "There are rumors about a girl who threw alchemical potions at some thugs. Saved a boy from trouble. They say she called herself Lisa."
He watched her face carefully as he said the name.
Lyra's expression remained neutral, but Cassius caught the briefest flicker of something in her eyes. Recognition? Fear? It was gone too quickly to tell.
"Lisa is a common name among commoners, young master," she said evenly. "I'm sure it's a different girl entirely."
'Interesting,' Cassius thought. 'She's not denying knowledge of the incident. Just claiming it wasn't her.'
"Of course," Cassius said smoothly. "My mistake. Though I find it curious that you would risk saving a stranger in an alley. Most nobles—even runaway ones—wouldn't bother."
"I'm not most nobles," Lyra said quietly.
"Clearly." Cassius accepted the teacup. "Which brings me back to my question. Why are you really here, Lady Winter?"
Lyra was silent for a long moment. Finally, she spoke.
"You asked why I chose you specifically. The truth is... you seemed different from the others. Less cruel."
"Different how?"
"The servants speak well of you." She paused. "I thought someone who knew what it was like to be cast aside might be more sympathetic."
It was a good answer. But Cassius didn't believe it.
[She's lying.]
"I see," Cassius said. "Though I wonder—if you wanted sympathy, why not approach me directly? Why the disguise?"
"Because approaching you directly would have exposed who I am," Lyra said. "This way, I can help without—"
"Help?" Cassius interrupted. "Help with what, exactly?"
They stared at each other. Finally, Lyra let out a breath.
"Fine. You want the truth?" She straightened. "I believe something terrible is going to happen to you. And I want to prevent it."
Cassius went very still.
"What kind of terrible?"
"I've had... visions. Dreams. Of you falling into darkness. Of your brother standing over you."
"Stop." Cassius's voice was sharp. "Visions? You expect me to believe you're some kind of prophet?"
"I expect you to believe I want to help, whether you trust me or not."
[She knows something specific about your death.]
"Are you a regressor?" The words left Cassius's mouth before he could stop them.
Lyra's eyes went wide with genuine shock. "A what?"
[She doesn't know the term. She's not a regressor.]
Then how did she know about Nathan? About the abyss?
Cassius looked at her carefully. The determination in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders.
She was terrified. But not of him.
"Alright, Lady Winter. I'll accept your help. But know this," he stepped closer, "—if you betray me, I will find out. And I will make sure you regret it."
Lyra didn't flinch. "Understood, young master."
"Good. Now, about those visions. Tell me everything."
"It's not clear. Just fragments. But they all end the same way. With you falling."
"Into the abyss."
"Yes."
"You can stay. Continue as my maid. But from now on, you report everything to me directly. Any dreams, visions, anything unusual."
"Yes, young master."
"And Lady Winter? Thank you. For the warning."
Lyra smiled slightly. "You're welcome, young master."
Lyra left the room, and Cassius watched from the window as she walked back to the servants quarters.
[You're really going to trust her?]
'Of course not,' Cassius thought. 'But I'm going to use her.'
[And if she really is trying to help you?]
'Then I'll be pleasantly surprised,' Cassius thought. 'But I'm not counting on it.'
Because in his experience, everyone who claimed to want to help him had their own agenda.
And Lyra Winter was no exception.