Clara — Wittelsbach Estate, Two Years Earlier
When I first arrived at the Wittelsbach estate, I couldn't breathe. The grandeur was suffocating. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, and the air smelled like roses and polished wood. The other maids glanced at me, some with curiosity, most with indifference.
Back then, I wasn't used to wearing stiff uniforms or keeping my mouth shut. I had no idea how to bow my head and pretend I didn't see things I wasn't supposed to. But I had to learn fast.
I wasn't just a maid. I was a pair of eyes and ears, hidden in plain sight.
It all started two years ago, when Alessio came to Grandmama's cottage one evening, his face tense and his voice low. He didn't notice me at first—too lost in whatever burden he was carrying. I was just a kid then, barely fourteen. Grandmama shooed me to the next room, where I listened through the crack in the door.
Marius Wittelsbach. Suspicious disappearances. A network of loyalists who seemed to vanish into thin air. Alessio needed someone inside the estate, but it had to be someone Marius would overlook. A common girl.
That night, I didn't sleep. I kept replaying the way Alessio's jaw clenched, the haunted look in his eyes. He was doing something dangerous. Something he wouldn't walk away from unscathed.
I didn't tell Grandmama until the next morning, when I stood by the fire, hands shaking, and said, "I want to help."
She nearly threw the pot of stew at me.
"No," Alessio said firmly, crossing his arms. "It's not safe."
I shot him a glare, trying to ignore the way my heart hammered at how serious he looked. "You're the one putting yourself in danger every day. Why can't I do the same?"
Grandmama grunted. "She's stubborn like her father. But no. You're too young."
I squared my shoulders. "I'm not a child anymore. And I'm not useless! I know how to listen. How to blend in."
Alessio shook his head. "Marius is... unpredictable. You don't understand what kind of monster he is."
I wasn't giving up. "But I know how to be invisible. Please—if something happens to you, at least I could help."
They argued for hours. Alessio remained adamant, but Grandmama finally sighed and muttered something about "damned fools running into the lion's den." In the end, they couldn't sway me. I was going.
A month later, I passed through the iron gates of the Wittelsbach estate, heart hammering, hands trembling inside borrowed gloves.
Nearly two years have passed since that day. Alessio had already been a knight for a year by the time I arrived, blending into the duke's household as just another sword among many. Around me, he was cautious—never meeting my eyes for too long, never risking even a flicker of familiarity.
At first, his coldness stung. But I understood why. Marius maintained a tight grip on his staff, and while casual conversation among servants was tolerated, anyone caught whispering secrets or showing signs of unusual closeness was swiftly dismissed—or worse, simply vanished.
Even so, we found ways to communicate in secret. A slight nod here, a quick glance there. I left coded notes in the kitchen pantry, and if Alessio understood, he'd respond the next day by moving a specific jar.
But it wasn't enough. Most of the people we suspected were involved in Marius' schemes had vanished before we could gather solid evidence. Those few who seemed willing to speak suddenly fell silent—or turned up dead from "accidents."
I'd been at the estate for nearly two years. Sonia arrived about a year after I did—bright-eyed, full of warmth, and clearly unprepared for the shadows that hung over the place. At first, she didn't seem like someone who'd matter to our investigation. But as time passed, it became clear she saw more than she let on—and before long, Sonia became our most important lead.
In those early months, she brought light into the house. She smiled often, tried to lift the mood of those around her, and somehow earned even Marius's guarded attention. But after the incident at the cliffs—when Marius brought her back—everything changed. She'd been full of life once—but now she just seemed... fragile. I noticed how she pulled away from his touch, how her laughter didn't sound quite right. She'd grown quieter, more withdrawn. Her bright presence had dimmed, and some nights, I heard her crying softly in her sleep.
It was clear something had happened out there—something that had shaken her deeply.
One evening, I saw her sneaking out to the garden, tears streaming down her face. I knew better than to approach—Marius often had spies lurking—but I couldn't just leave her alone. I walked past, just close enough to drop a handkerchief, and kept moving.
The next day, the handkerchief was on my cot, folded neatly. No note, but it was enough.
Sonia was barely holding it together. And in that moment, she wasn't a noble or a lead in our investigation—she was just a girl trying not to fall apart. I couldn't walk away from that. Not yet.
My plan was to leave after just a few months, but Sonia's presence changed everything. I couldn't abandon her—not after I saw how Marius's grip on her tightened. Not when Alessio's visits became less frequent, and the servants whispered that the duke's temper was growing worse.
When I could, I would slip into Sonia's room and bring tea, leaving little treats she liked. One night, when the house was quiet, she whispered to me, "Why are you kind to me?"
I didn't have an answer. Maybe because I saw the way her hands trembled when Marius wasn't looking. Maybe because no one else dared to offer her comfort.
"I just... thought you might need a friend," I replied.
Sonia looked at me with wide, startled eyes. Then, for the first time, she smiled.
In the days that followed, something in her began to shift. Slowly, cautiously, she started to come back to herself. She wasn't quite as she once was, but the hollow stillness that had clung to her began to lift. She laughed more. Spoke a little brighter. I even noticed her spending time with one of the younger servants—a cheerful boy from the stables with a quiet voice and a fondness for poetry. They never lingered long together, but something about his presence seemed to soothe her. It was the closest I'd seen her come to peace in months.
Then, just as quietly as he had appeared, the boy vanished.
No explanation. No farewell. Just gone.
And Sonia unraveled.
Her silence gave way to sharp edges. She snapped at Marius in public, flinched more visibly when he drew near. Her emotions—once buried so carefully beneath smiles and quiet obedience—now spilled out in sudden flashes of anger and fear. That was also when she asked me to stop bringing her the chamomile tea she used to love. Her voice was steady, but her eyes told another story.
I didn't know what had happened—I wasn't meant to. But whatever it was, it had broken something in her.
A week later, she changed again.
That day, she was confined to her room. A shackle at her ankle—it struck me as a desperate attempt by the duke to keep her from leaving him, to control her completely.
Unlike before, when she seemed fragile and unsteady, this time felt different—more unsettling. Her behavior shifted in quieter, subtler ways. The way she spoke was slightly off from how she used to; she even joked now, and at times, she seemed lost in thought—her expression distant—and I couldn't tell what was on her mind. She began asking me strange questions about the calendar, about time, history—and whether she had been acting strangely lately. She had also forgotten important events, like the incident on the cliffs.
I told myself it was trauma finally catching up to her—that everything she'd endured had simply become too much. But her eyes seemed more focused now. She was no longer unsteady—she had regained her composure. Maybe it was a blessing, I thought, that she'd forgotten the painful memories. I didn't know. But I was determined to help her become the person she once was—full of life.
Until the next day, when the news spread: Sonia was gone.
The estate fell into hushed panic. Guards doubled their rounds. Servants whispered in corners. And Marius—Marius was inconsolable. His polished calm shattered into fury and dread. I watched from the hallway as he gripped the captain's collar and snarled through clenched teeth, demanding they tear through the surrounding villages if that's what it took to bring her back.
Later that night, I was cleaning the corridor when I heard something smash against the wall. I peeked into the study. Marius stood with his back to the door, breathing heavily, his hands gripping the desk so hard his knuckles were white.
"Why... why did you run from me?" he whispered to no one. He laughed—soft, dark, and broken. "You can't leave me, Nia. You belong to me."
A shiver crawled down my spine. The tension in the room was suffocating, his obsession as raw and real as a bleeding wound.
He slammed his fist into the wall, the plaster cracking under his knuckles. Then he sank to his knees, muttering to himself. I pulled back before he could sense me, retreating to the servants' quarters with my heart pounding.
If Alessio and Sonia didn't escape the territory soon, I wasn't sure any of us would survive.
* * *
He returned to Sonia's bedroom again, unable to bear the emptiness. Her scent still lingered—lavender and something faintly sweet. He traced his fingers along the bedpost where the chain used to be.
His hand tightened.
"She'll come back," he whispered. "She has to."
He moved to the vanity, brushing his fingers over the hairpins left behind. A dark thought flared in his mind—had someone taken her? No, no one would dare. No one except...
His eyes narrowed. Alessio.
Right after he heard Nia was missing, a report came in—Alessio had escaped the dungeon. The timing was too perfect; it happened the very moment she vanished.
Had he taken his Nia away? Alessio was the kind of knight you barely noticed—too plain, too quiet. Easily forgotten in the background until now. But sometimes, the people you don't pay attention to are the ones hiding the biggest secrets.
A low growl rumbled in his chest. If Alessio had stolen her, there wouldn't be a place in the empire where he could hide.
He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. She was his. No one had the right to take her away.
"Nia..." he whispered, his tone a strange mix of desperation and adoration. "I'll find you. Even if I have to burn the world to do it."
To be continued