A woman sat alone in a dark room. The space was large, and the light beside her was too small to dispel the darkness of night that covered the whole world.
She was waiting for her prey in the darkness.
Rodrick Allan Weishaffen. That was the name of the man who was to be sacrificed.
'... I can. No, I have to. For my father.'
She had silver hair and blue eyes, and with a stiff expression, she took out a dagger from her bosom.
It was an object that did not match her gorgeous and luxurious dress, but she looked at the dagger with eyes that could not be read.
The magnificent dagger with a violet diamond set in a platinum scabbard was her father's treasure, a precious item that no one was allowed to touch.
It was he who lent her such a precious sword.
To kill his father's enemy, Duke Rodrick Weishaffen.
'I have to do well. I can't let down my father's expectations.'
She gathered her resolve and hid the dagger again.
For her only family, her father, who was her everything. She was determined to kill Rodrick Weishaffen.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that she lived only for this day.
She trained in assassination techniques from a young age to kill Rodrick, and it was two years ago that she entered this mansion, pretending to be his lost only daughter.
It was fortunate that the lost Princess, Aila Hailing Weishaffen, looked very similar to her.
Her father had lived his entire life without his right hand. He said it was cut off by Rodrick's sword. And that wasn't all. He said he had taken everything he deserved.
Because of that, her father lived his whole life as a criminal and a fugitive.
She was the same. As a child, she wandered from place to place with her father. Then, two years ago, she entered this mansion pretending to be Rodrick's lost daughter.
Although she should have been happy about killing such an enemy, she felt uneasy for some reason.
Why? She could not clearly explain this feeling. Could it be that she had developed some kind of affection for Rodrick and his wife Ophelia?
Or maybe she was just scared that she would kill someone for the first time in her life. She had learned countless techniques to harm people, but actually doing it was another matter.
'Don't think useless thoughts.'
She shook her head, scolding herself.
This was absolutely necessary. To avenge her father. And to find her name.
She lived her entire life without knowing her own name or her father's name.
Her father always called her 'my daughter', and all of his other subordinates only called her 'young lady'.
Everyone had a name. Even the dog that her father raised had a name, but she, who everyone treated as a young lady, could not have a name.
She always asked her father to tell her name, and every time he would say this.
'It would be too dangerous if you found out your real name. On the day this father's revenge is over, I will tell you your name on that day.'
She and her father had been on the run their whole lives. She had no choice but to wait, believing her father's words that it was dangerous for her name to be known.
When the work is done, if she kills her father's enemy, she will know her name and her father's name. Believing so.
As she was struggling with the unknown emotions quietly rising within her, a knock was heard at the door.
Here we go. Suddenly. She felt her heart sink.
Was she not mentally prepared yet? No, she had been preparing for a long time. But when it actually happened, she couldn't help but feel nervous.
“Miss, His Excellency the Duke has arrived.”
“Tell them to come in.”
She opened her mouth, trying to calm her trembling hands.
Finally, the door opened, and Rodrick Weishaffen came in. He had black hair and blue eyes, and a strong body that belied his age of forty.
The head of the Weishaffen family, the Empire's greatest inspector and protector of the Empire.
Although Rodrick was always wary of his surroundings with sharp eyes, he was an affectionate father to his daughter.
“I’m here, Aila. What are you doing without turning on the lights?”
As he came into the room with that kind, cheerful smile, something inside her heart kept prickling.
Foolish person.
Look at him running towards her like a hawk when her daughter calls him to tell him something, not knowing that this is a trap aimed at his life.
It would have been okay to just laugh at that foolishness, but that didn't happen.
“It’s not my first time coming to your room, but I feel nervous for no reason.”
Rodrick stepped into the dark room, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
The door closed, and the two of them were alone. And suddenly, Rodrick's eyes became sharp.
“...Is there anyone else in the room besides us?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I was alone.”
She couldn't hide her confusion. How could things go wrong before she could even draw her sword?
In fact, there was someone else in this dark room.
Someone she's hiding.
Rodrick was a swordmaster beyond human ability. He seemed to have read the existence with his keen senses.
“Stay behind me.”
But contrary to her worries, Rodrick did not seem to doubt her daughter. It was only natural, since he believed that she was the real Aila Weishaffen.
Rodrick wrapped her up safely and walked towards the closet where someone was hiding.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. To turn her back on an assassin. If she hesitates now and misses the opportunity, she won't get a second chance.
She took out her father's dagger that she had hidden and approached Rodrick without making a sound. She had to stab him in one breath. She held her breath so as not to make even a sound as she swung her sword at her father's enemy.
But that brief moment.
Rodrick turned and reflexively grabbed the blade.
“Aila, what is this...”
Her expression seemed as if he couldn't believe his daughter, who was suddenly pointing a knife at him. Aila gripped the handle with all her might to keep the sword from being snatched away.
There was no way to kill Rodrick without a surprise attack.
Although she was confident that she would not be defeated in a one-on-one duel against any knight, no matter how excellent the assassin was, it was difficult for her to defeat Rodrick.
Is this the end? Am I going to fail like this?
Just when she was about to feel disappointed, shr saw blood dripping from Rodrick's hand, which was holding the blade with his bare hands.
'It's a success.'
The sharp blade was coated with a deadly poison. Even Rodrick, who had surpassed human flesh, would not be able to overcome this deadly poison.
“Why did you...”
Rodrick's face was filled with puzzlement, not knowing that even at this moment, the deadly poison was flowing through his veins, taking his life with each passing moment.
“Aila...”
Aila, Aila. Rodrick, who had been repeating only his daughter's name, staggered and leaned against the wall as the poison began to take effect.
“Don’t call me by that name. I’m not your daughter.”
She felt nauseous. She felt disgusted. She couldn't figure out where this disgust was coming from. Was it the fear of someone dying in front of her? Or was it the hatred for Rodrick, who had ruined her father's life?
“...Aila, my daughter.”
The poison was doing its job faithfully, and Rodrick's body, which was said to be so strong, lost its strength and fell to the floor. However, there was still no trace of resentment toward her in his eyes.
Instead, what she feels is longing. Regret. And endless affection.
Why on earth?
“...I’m sorry, Aila. I... am sorry.”
Even with his heavy breathing fading away, Rodrick didn't stop talking. He just looked at her with loving eyes until the end.
Foolishly.
“No, I...”
Aila, I'm not your daughter. She tried to deny it, but she couldn't open her mouth because she kept feeling nauseous.
And then.
“Rodrick Allan Weishaffen.”
The closet door opened, and the person hiding inside the closet came out.
Red hair and vivid amber eyes. A dignified demeanor. And a crude prosthetic hand in place of his right hand.
He was her precious father.
“I’m finally getting rid of you. I told you. I’d definitely get rid of you. I’ll keep that promise.”
His golden eyes glowed in the darkness. His face, smiling brightly, was filled with joy.
“You took my Ophelia, gave my place to my brother, and even took my right hand away... I was wondering how I could kill you most badly.”
“You are... Byron...”
Rodrick's eyes widened as if he recognized her father. He called him something in a fading voice, but nothing was heard except the name Byron.
“Yes. It’s me, Byron. You remember well. It would be a mistake to forget the name of the one you betrayed so easily.”
Byron. That must have been the name of her father, who had been wondering about it all his life.
Rodrick's eyes seemed to indicate that he wanted to say something more, but it seemed as if his breath would not allow him to do so any longer.
He gasped as if even breathing was difficult, and not long afterwards, he died.
He couldn't even close his eyes.
“...Goodbye, old friend. You won’t be going far.”
Byron closed his eyes with an expression that could not hide his joy. His twinkling eyes were brimming with joy.
She quietly watched the scene and let out the breath she had been holding. It was terrible.
“Oh, oh, my daughter. You did a good job with your homework.”
Then he should praise her. Byron approached her, who was not even thinking of moving, and snatched the dagger from her hand.
“...I’ll take this sword back now. Thank you for your hard work.”
Her father wiped the blood off Rodrick's clothes that were strewn on the floor and put his precious dagger back into its scabbard.
And then, as he always did, he kissed her hair, as if he were lovingly kissing her.
“Now, as promised, I should tell you my name. But before that, shall we have a toast first?”
He took a bottle of champagne from somewhere and poured it into an elegant crystal glass.
She looked down at the champagne glass he had placed in her hand. She didn't feel like drinking. She felt as if she had swallowed something; she would vomit right away.
“Drink now. It’ll make you feel better. We’ll talk later.”
Byron smiled and took an elegant sip of champagne from his glass. Watching him, she instinctively brought her glass to her lips, and then she heard a commotion outside.
It seemed like the plan had begun.
Byron's plan is to launch a full-scale assault on the mansion after she kills the Duke.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a sip of champagne. The hot liquid didn't feel good going down her throat. It was probably stronger than it looked.
“...Yeah, that’s right.”
Byron, who had been watching her slurp champagne, smiled with shining eyes. In the dark room where even the moonlight was obscured by clouds, only his golden eyes seemed to shine brightly.
“Now tell me. My real name.”
She opened her mouth. It seemed as if someone else was speaking through her mouth, as if the sound was coming from far away.
“Yeah. A promise is a promise.”
Byron sat cross-legged on the sofa, smiling broadly. It was a stark contrast to the Duke's corpse lying on the cold floor.
“Your name is Aila.”
The moment Byron opened his mouth, blood poured out of her mouth.
“This is Aila Hailing Weishaffen.”
She was waiting for her prey in the darkness.
Rodrick Allan Weishaffen. That was the name of the man who was to be sacrificed.
'... I can. No, I have to. For my father.'
She had silver hair and blue eyes, and with a stiff expression, she took out a dagger from her bosom.
It was an object that did not match her gorgeous and luxurious dress, but she looked at the dagger with eyes that could not be read.
The magnificent dagger with a violet diamond set in a platinum scabbard was her father's treasure, a precious item that no one was allowed to touch.
It was he who lent her such a precious sword.
To kill his father's enemy, Duke Rodrick Weishaffen.
'I have to do well. I can't let down my father's expectations.'
She gathered her resolve and hid the dagger again.
For her only family, her father, who was her everything. She was determined to kill Rodrick Weishaffen.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that she lived only for this day.
She trained in assassination techniques from a young age to kill Rodrick, and it was two years ago that she entered this mansion, pretending to be his lost only daughter.
It was fortunate that the lost Princess, Aila Hailing Weishaffen, looked very similar to her.
Her father had lived his entire life without his right hand. He said it was cut off by Rodrick's sword. And that wasn't all. He said he had taken everything he deserved.
Because of that, her father lived his whole life as a criminal and a fugitive.
She was the same. As a child, she wandered from place to place with her father. Then, two years ago, she entered this mansion pretending to be Rodrick's lost daughter.
Although she should have been happy about killing such an enemy, she felt uneasy for some reason.
Why? She could not clearly explain this feeling. Could it be that she had developed some kind of affection for Rodrick and his wife Ophelia?
Or maybe she was just scared that she would kill someone for the first time in her life. She had learned countless techniques to harm people, but actually doing it was another matter.
'Don't think useless thoughts.'
She shook her head, scolding herself.
This was absolutely necessary. To avenge her father. And to find her name.
She lived her entire life without knowing her own name or her father's name.
Her father always called her 'my daughter', and all of his other subordinates only called her 'young lady'.
Everyone had a name. Even the dog that her father raised had a name, but she, who everyone treated as a young lady, could not have a name.
She always asked her father to tell her name, and every time he would say this.
'It would be too dangerous if you found out your real name. On the day this father's revenge is over, I will tell you your name on that day.'
She and her father had been on the run their whole lives. She had no choice but to wait, believing her father's words that it was dangerous for her name to be known.
When the work is done, if she kills her father's enemy, she will know her name and her father's name. Believing so.
As she was struggling with the unknown emotions quietly rising within her, a knock was heard at the door.
Here we go. Suddenly. She felt her heart sink.
Was she not mentally prepared yet? No, she had been preparing for a long time. But when it actually happened, she couldn't help but feel nervous.
“Miss, His Excellency the Duke has arrived.”
“Tell them to come in.”
She opened her mouth, trying to calm her trembling hands.
Finally, the door opened, and Rodrick Weishaffen came in. He had black hair and blue eyes, and a strong body that belied his age of forty.
The head of the Weishaffen family, the Empire's greatest inspector and protector of the Empire.
Although Rodrick was always wary of his surroundings with sharp eyes, he was an affectionate father to his daughter.
“I’m here, Aila. What are you doing without turning on the lights?”
As he came into the room with that kind, cheerful smile, something inside her heart kept prickling.
Foolish person.
Look at him running towards her like a hawk when her daughter calls him to tell him something, not knowing that this is a trap aimed at his life.
It would have been okay to just laugh at that foolishness, but that didn't happen.
“It’s not my first time coming to your room, but I feel nervous for no reason.”
Rodrick stepped into the dark room, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
The door closed, and the two of them were alone. And suddenly, Rodrick's eyes became sharp.
“...Is there anyone else in the room besides us?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I was alone.”
She couldn't hide her confusion. How could things go wrong before she could even draw her sword?
In fact, there was someone else in this dark room.
Someone she's hiding.
Rodrick was a swordmaster beyond human ability. He seemed to have read the existence with his keen senses.
“Stay behind me.”
But contrary to her worries, Rodrick did not seem to doubt her daughter. It was only natural, since he believed that she was the real Aila Weishaffen.
Rodrick wrapped her up safely and walked towards the closet where someone was hiding.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. To turn her back on an assassin. If she hesitates now and misses the opportunity, she won't get a second chance.
She took out her father's dagger that she had hidden and approached Rodrick without making a sound. She had to stab him in one breath. She held her breath so as not to make even a sound as she swung her sword at her father's enemy.
But that brief moment.
Rodrick turned and reflexively grabbed the blade.
“Aila, what is this...”
Her expression seemed as if he couldn't believe his daughter, who was suddenly pointing a knife at him. Aila gripped the handle with all her might to keep the sword from being snatched away.
There was no way to kill Rodrick without a surprise attack.
Although she was confident that she would not be defeated in a one-on-one duel against any knight, no matter how excellent the assassin was, it was difficult for her to defeat Rodrick.
Is this the end? Am I going to fail like this?
Just when she was about to feel disappointed, shr saw blood dripping from Rodrick's hand, which was holding the blade with his bare hands.
'It's a success.'
The sharp blade was coated with a deadly poison. Even Rodrick, who had surpassed human flesh, would not be able to overcome this deadly poison.
“Why did you...”
Rodrick's face was filled with puzzlement, not knowing that even at this moment, the deadly poison was flowing through his veins, taking his life with each passing moment.
“Aila...”
Aila, Aila. Rodrick, who had been repeating only his daughter's name, staggered and leaned against the wall as the poison began to take effect.
“Don’t call me by that name. I’m not your daughter.”
She felt nauseous. She felt disgusted. She couldn't figure out where this disgust was coming from. Was it the fear of someone dying in front of her? Or was it the hatred for Rodrick, who had ruined her father's life?
“...Aila, my daughter.”
The poison was doing its job faithfully, and Rodrick's body, which was said to be so strong, lost its strength and fell to the floor. However, there was still no trace of resentment toward her in his eyes.
Instead, what she feels is longing. Regret. And endless affection.
Why on earth?
“...I’m sorry, Aila. I... am sorry.”
Even with his heavy breathing fading away, Rodrick didn't stop talking. He just looked at her with loving eyes until the end.
Foolishly.
“No, I...”
Aila, I'm not your daughter. She tried to deny it, but she couldn't open her mouth because she kept feeling nauseous.
And then.
“Rodrick Allan Weishaffen.”
The closet door opened, and the person hiding inside the closet came out.
Red hair and vivid amber eyes. A dignified demeanor. And a crude prosthetic hand in place of his right hand.
He was her precious father.
“I’m finally getting rid of you. I told you. I’d definitely get rid of you. I’ll keep that promise.”
His golden eyes glowed in the darkness. His face, smiling brightly, was filled with joy.
“You took my Ophelia, gave my place to my brother, and even took my right hand away... I was wondering how I could kill you most badly.”
“You are... Byron...”
Rodrick's eyes widened as if he recognized her father. He called him something in a fading voice, but nothing was heard except the name Byron.
“Yes. It’s me, Byron. You remember well. It would be a mistake to forget the name of the one you betrayed so easily.”
Byron. That must have been the name of her father, who had been wondering about it all his life.
Rodrick's eyes seemed to indicate that he wanted to say something more, but it seemed as if his breath would not allow him to do so any longer.
He gasped as if even breathing was difficult, and not long afterwards, he died.
He couldn't even close his eyes.
“...Goodbye, old friend. You won’t be going far.”
Byron closed his eyes with an expression that could not hide his joy. His twinkling eyes were brimming with joy.
She quietly watched the scene and let out the breath she had been holding. It was terrible.
“Oh, oh, my daughter. You did a good job with your homework.”
Then he should praise her. Byron approached her, who was not even thinking of moving, and snatched the dagger from her hand.
“...I’ll take this sword back now. Thank you for your hard work.”
Her father wiped the blood off Rodrick's clothes that were strewn on the floor and put his precious dagger back into its scabbard.
And then, as he always did, he kissed her hair, as if he were lovingly kissing her.
“Now, as promised, I should tell you my name. But before that, shall we have a toast first?”
He took a bottle of champagne from somewhere and poured it into an elegant crystal glass.
She looked down at the champagne glass he had placed in her hand. She didn't feel like drinking. She felt as if she had swallowed something; she would vomit right away.
“Drink now. It’ll make you feel better. We’ll talk later.”
Byron smiled and took an elegant sip of champagne from his glass. Watching him, she instinctively brought her glass to her lips, and then she heard a commotion outside.
It seemed like the plan had begun.
Byron's plan is to launch a full-scale assault on the mansion after she kills the Duke.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a sip of champagne. The hot liquid didn't feel good going down her throat. It was probably stronger than it looked.
“...Yeah, that’s right.”
Byron, who had been watching her slurp champagne, smiled with shining eyes. In the dark room where even the moonlight was obscured by clouds, only his golden eyes seemed to shine brightly.
“Now tell me. My real name.”
She opened her mouth. It seemed as if someone else was speaking through her mouth, as if the sound was coming from far away.
“Yeah. A promise is a promise.”
Byron sat cross-legged on the sofa, smiling broadly. It was a stark contrast to the Duke's corpse lying on the cold floor.
“Your name is Aila.”
The moment Byron opened his mouth, blood poured out of her mouth.
“This is Aila Hailing Weishaffen.”
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