Chapter 3
Two years had slipped by unnoticed.
As Elyra grew into a toddler capable of walking independently on steady legs, the true scale of her new home finally began to reveal itself. During her infancy, her world had been limited to the four corners of the nursery and Elina's arms. But now, roaming the long corridors, she was struck by the sheer architectural expanse of the Solv estate. It was a massive, sprawling manor built with dark stone pillars, high vaulted ceilings, and polished hardwood floors that echoed with the heavy, disciplined footsteps of numerous guards patrolling the perimeter. A small army of uniformed maids bustled quietly through the wings, tending to the endless upkeep of the grand halls, libraries, and training yards. Growing up under the roof of the Fifth Strongest Warrior meant living in a heavily fortified stronghold disguised as a luxury residence—a stark contrast to the dilapidated, suffocating hovels of her past life.
Eldern, now five years old, often came to Elyra's room to read her storybooks. Meanwhile, Elyra had turned two. This was partly because Eldern had been moved to his own room, while Elyra still slept with their parents. For Ryudien—now living as Elyra—the sight always stirred a deep curiosity within her.
Of course it's this big. He is the Fifth Strongest Warrior, by the way... Elyra mused inwardly, her mind flashing back to the damp, crumbling dirt floors of her childhood. Here, they live in a palace, surrounded by servants and absolute security. It feels sickeningly surreal.
In his previous life, Ryudien had been illiterate. The desire to attend school had once burned strongly in his heart, but fate never gave him the chance. Because of that, books became something fascinating to Elyra now. The neatly arranged letters on each page seemed to contain another world—one she had never been allowed to enter.
Since Elyra still could not read, Eldern had faithfully read stories to her for the past month. From Elina's perspective, Elyra looked incredibly adorable—especially because of her curiosity toward almost everything.
From the doorway a month earlier, Damnern watched them with a gentle smile. He stepped forward, kneeling beside his children. He was twenty-six now.
"Let Papa read for you, Elyra," Damnern said gently.
"No!" Elyra shook her head firmly, clutching Eldern's sleeve. "Eyya only wan Eden!"
Hearing this, Damnern immediately became gloomy, while Eldern puffed out his chest proudly.
"Hehe, sorry Papa. Elyra prefers me," Eldern said smugly.
Why are you the one feeling proud? Elyra thought silently.
In truth, her stubbornness wasn't just typical toddler petulance.
Returning to the present on a quiet afternoon, Eldern came again carrying a brand-new book.
"Elyra! I brought a new book today," Eldern said cheerfully.
Elyra's eyes sparkled. "Eden… read!"
"If you want Eldern to read it, you have to ask nicely first, hehe," Eldern teased.
"Eden! Eden! Please read it for Eyya," Elyra replied, as usual.
"Hehe, what can I do? If it's my beloved little sister asking, Eldern can't refuse," Eldern said proudly.
As Eldern opened the book, Elyra suddenly noticed something.
"Eden, what happened to your hand?" Elyra asked, staring at the bandage wrapped around it.
"Oh, this? I got it during training with Papa. It's nothing serious."
At that moment, something dark stirred within Elyra.
So it's the same after all…
Even in this life, a father was pushing his young child into the world of warriors with blood and pain. The image of her five-year-old brother being forced into combat training made her stomach twist with sickening familiarity. She couldn't understand how their mother, Elina, could remain so calm about it.
That night, she made a quiet decision.
"Mama, Eyya wants to sleep with Eden tonight."
Elina, who was twenty-five now, smiled softly and nodded. "Alright, but don't kick him in your sleep."
As Elyra toddled after Eldern, clutching her stuffed teddy bear tightly in one tiny hand by its head—dangling it limply down her side with the exact same grim, lifeless posture she used to drag severed heads across the cold stone floors of the Noxes Organisation—a precious gift from maid Sasha—Damnern appeared from the bathroom, freshly bathed.
"Elyra, where are you going, sweetheart?" he asked warmly, reaching out to pat her head.
Elyra walked straight past him without a glance, her tiny face cold.
Damnern blinked in confusion, his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. "Did I… do something wrong?"
Elina chuckled from the living room. "Looks like you're in the doghouse tonight, darling."
Later that night, Elyra lay frozen beside her brother, her eyes fixed blankly on the dark ceiling. The sight of the white bandage wrapped around Eldern's small wrist seemed to burn into her vision, refusing to fade.
Slowly, the soothing scent of herbal ointment lingering on the cloth began to warp, suffocating her until it morphed into the sharp, sickening stench of cheap alcohol and stale sweat. The quiet rustle of the curtains melted into the phantom sounds of crashing glass, harsh slaps, and broken sobs—ghosts of a past she had tried so desperately to bury.
As her tiny heart hammered against her ribs, the warmth of the Solv estate completely dissolved, dragged down into the cold, damp shadows of a dilapidated house in the Willoreach region.
The memory returned with painful clarity. Ryudien Rontow was only six years old at the time, trapped in a home with empty cupboards and a man he wished he could forget: his father, Blanco Rontow. A twenty-five-year-old drunkard who ruthlessly beat Ryudien's mother whenever he stumbled home intoxicated.
"Why is the money never enough?!" Blanco roared, slamming the empty bottle onto the rickety wooden table. The sound echoed through the small, dim house like a crack of thunder.
Siana flinched, her thin shoulders trembling. Her stomach had been empty since yesterday, and the sharp pain made her dizzy. Still, she forced herself to speak softly, hoping to calm him.
"Blanco… please, I've tried everything I can. Just… lower your voice a little—"
"Shut your mouth!"
His hand swung fast. The slap sent Siana crashing to the floor. She clutched her burning cheek, tears spilling down her face as hunger, exhaustion, and shame twisted together inside her.
In the corner of the room, six-year-old Ryudien curled into a tight ball, hugging his knees to his chest. He bit his lip hard, trying not to make a sound. His small body shook uncontrollably as he watched his mother on the ground.
Siana slowly pushed herself up. Her gaze shifted toward Ryudien.
For a moment, her eyes dulled.
He looked so much like his father—the same dark hair, the same eyes, even the same fearful expression. Every time she looked at him, it felt like staring at a younger version of the man who had destroyed her life.
"What are you looking at?" she suddenly hissed, her voice cracking.
Ryudien jumped. Before he could react, Siana grabbed his thin arm with surprising strength.
"M-Mom… it hurts…"
Ryudien didn't understand. He truly believed he had done nothing wrong. All he wanted was for his mother to smile at him again.
But Siana wasn't listening anymore. Years of pain, hunger, and resentment finally broke free.
"You're just like him," she whispered bitterly, tears streaming down her face. "Every single time I look at you… I see him."
Her grip tightened as her voice rose into a broken shout.
"Why were you even born?! Why do I have to suffer because of you?!"
She shoved him hard. Ryudien stumbled backward and fell, scraping his elbow on the rough floor. He didn't cry out. He had learned long ago that crying only made things worse.
Siana stared at her son lying on the ground, her chest heaving. For a brief second, a flicker of guilt crossed her face—but it was quickly swallowed by exhaustion and rage. She turned away, covering her face with both hands as quiet sobs escaped her.
That night was the beginning of the end. The endless cycle of suffering had finally snuffed out whatever light was left inside her.
Siana's hands shook violently as she stared at her son in the dim room. Her eyes, once filled with a sliver of hope, were now completely hollow—stripped of everything but a terrifying, empty resolve.
"Ryudien…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet carrying a heavy, chilling finality. "I'm so sorry… Please forgive me."
To be Continued...