Chapter 5 – New Life (3)
By the time we reached the carriage waiting in front of the estate, the morning mist had already begun to thin. Stablehands stood at attention, servants lined up in two neat rows, and the family crest fluttered on a small banner at the carriage's side.
Father stopped just short of the door and turned to me.
"Go, my child," he said, voice steady but soft in a way he only ever used with me. "I have to look over the land while you're gone."
There was no hesitation there. Duty first, always.
"Alright, Father," I replied.
"Good." A faint smile touched his lips as he reached out, strong hands wrapping around my waist to lift me lightly and place me on the carriage step. "Go make your mother proud."
Mother.
Elizabeth.
I never knew her personally, but her presence clung to this house like a lingering scent. Same blonde hair, same blue eyes as mine—that much I'd seen in the old portrait Father kept in his study. She meant everything to him. He never remarried. Never even entertained the idea. And every time her name came up, his eyes always darkened with that familiar sorrow.
Even now, as he set me down, I saw it again.
"Father… are you crying?" I asked quietly.
He stiffened for a moment, then looked away, as if the question had caught him off guard.
He went down on one knee so our eyes were level.
"Child," he said, voice low, "let me tell you something."
Oh? What could it be this time?
"You always looked like your mother, son," he said. "If only she were here to witness your grace today…" His throat worked, and he forced a small chuckle. "She'd be just as foolishly proud as I am."
Something tightened in my chest.
I moved forward and wrapped my arms around him. His armorless chest felt solid, warm. Alive.
"Those bygone years," I said softly, "lean on the now."
For a second, he went completely still.
Then he laughed, a short, genuine sound.
"That motto again," he murmured. "You remember it better than I do."
It was the Viscount Milton household's creed. His creed. The words he clung to after he lost Elizabeth: don't drown in the past, stand on the present.
The moment the words left my mouth, some of the heaviness in his eyes eased. The lines at the corner of his gaze smoothed just enough to show a lighter man beneath the weight of titles and regret.
"Alright, my child," he said, rising to his feet once more. He placed a hand on my head, ruffling my hair just enough to annoy the old me and comfort the current one. "Godspeed."
He stepped back.
As soon as he did, Alice appeared with perfect timing, lifting the front of her skirt just enough for a graceful curtsey before climbing into the carriage after me.
The door closed with a solid thud.
Through the window, I could still see Father and the servants standing in front of the manor, everyone waving as the driver snapped the reins. The horses started forward, the estate slowly shrinking as distance swallowed it.
No matter how many times I leave, that view never gets easier.
***
Now it was just me, Alice, and the carriage driver. Wheels groaned over the packed dirt road, the interior rocking in a slow, steady rhythm.
It should've been a heavily guarded trip.
I was the sole heir to House Milton. On paper, that justified an escort of knights, mages, maybe even a few discreet shadow guards along the rooftops. In most noble families, traveling with only a maid and a driver would be borderline suicidal.
Most.
Ours was different.
Because Alice wasn't just a maid.
She was a trained assassin from the Order of the Hand.
Kidnapped as a child. Trained like a dog, honed like a blade. Given nothing but missions and commands, punished for hesitation, rewarded for blood. Her final order had been to kill my emperor.
She failed.
Not because she lacked skill. If anything, her technique and killing intent were refined enough to make seasoned knights piss themselves.
She failed because my father overwhelmed her.
Not just in strength, in everything.
Instead of killing her, he broke the invisible chains that held her—gave her mercy where she expected death. Gave her a future where she expected nothing.
He let her live.
And worse—for her, at the time—he let her choose.
I looked at her now.
She sat across from me, hands folded neatly over her knees, posture perfect. Long black hair tied up in that familiar bunny tail, uniform immaculate. To anyone else, she was just a competent maid.
To me, the gaps showed.
The way her eyes never stopped scanning.
The way the carriage's slight sway didn't move her center of gravity at all.
The faint scars on her fingers, too old and too clean to be from kitchen knives.
"Alice," I said.
"Yes, young master?" she answered immediately, eyes snapping to me.
"Why did you stay by my father's side?" I asked. "You had the chance to leave after he freed you, didn't you?"
I'd never asked her this before.
In my past lives, I always treated it as… granted. She was there, loyal, dependable. The question felt too personal, too late.
But this time, I had space.
This time, I wanted to know.
"That's sudden, young master," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
She looked down for a moment, thinking.
"The reason is…" Her gaze softened, like she was remembering something only she could see. "Because he showed me a different path. For the first time, someone told me I could choose. I didn't want to run away from that. If I ran, it would be like throwing that chance back in his face."
I watched her in silence.
So simple.
So heavy.
"So why a maid?" I asked after a beat. "You could have been a guard. A knight. A shadow protector. You didn't have to learn the etiquette of servitude on top of everything else."
She blinked, then laughed quietly, cheeks coloring just a little.
"Well… that's because I wanted to help Master as much as possible," she said. "Truly help. Not just with a sword. With everything. Guarding him, guarding you, keeping the house running so he doesn't have to worry about the small things…"
Her hands tightened slightly in her lap.
"Being a maid lets me do that," she finished, a little embarrassed. "So I chose this role myself."
I leaned back against the seat, the corner of my mouth twitching upward.
"I see," I said. "If that's your choice, then it seems it was a good one. You've always been helpful… in every way that matters."
Her face lit up at that, the faint blush deepening.
"Thank you, young master," she said, bowing her head slightly.
The carriage rolled on, the road stretching ahead toward the Academy, toward heroines I once killed and a future I'd already seen crumble.
But this time, I wasn't going alone.
I had a father I refused to lose again.
A maid who chose this life with her own hands.
A system with stolen memories and a robotic voice.
And one more chance to break the fate that kept dragging us all to the same grave.