“It’s all right… they’re gone now. You’re safe. I’m here for you. The people who hurt you are no more. Everything is fine now.”

That voice, calm and quiet, pierced through the darkness that swallowed her. Ashtoria jolted awake from her nightmare. Through the haze, she saw a young man holding her, her head resting against his lap. Warmth flowed from that unfamiliar body, soothing the cold surging through her veins tainted with poison.

Ashtoria blinked. Confusion and disbelief pressed tight against her chest. Why was she being treated this way? Since when had anyone dared to touch her gently? She was not a child to be pitied, she was…

Her body stirred weakly, trying to push the man’s hand away. But her strength was nearly gone, her movement faltering.

“Calm down. I won’t hurt you.”

The words fell softly, freezing her hand midair. Ashtoria stilled. Then she felt it, the man stroking her hair. A simple gesture, light as a breeze, yet somehow sharper than a thousand wounds carved into her flesh.

Tears that had been dammed up spilled freely, trailing down her cheeks. She didn’t understand. Why? Why was she crying?

Never in her life had anyone treated her like this. Not her father. Not her mother. Not anyone. Only cold stares, orders, and pain. But now, for the first time, someone treated her as though she was human. Her chest tightened with a foreign feeling she could not name.

“Sleep. You’re safe here.”

Those were the last words she heard before her eyelids closed once more. This time, the nightmare did not come to claim her.

The sun was already high and shining bright when Ashtoria opened her eyes. She found herself inside a carriage, alone. Her body was still weak, poison gnawing at her veins, but it was far better than the night before.

Memories of that night flashed vividly in her mind. At once, she checked herself. No signs of mistreatment. No bindings, no degrading marks. Only a simple thick blanket wrapped around her, keeping her warm.

Her brows furrowed.

Who was that man?

Why did he treat me that way?

Did he know who I really am?

And… why wasn’t he afraid?

Above all… her appearance.

A back covered in scars, a face pale as death, and hair as red as spilled blood. Was he truly unafraid… or simply a fool?

The questions lodged in her mind like poisoned arrows. The suspicion that had briefly quieted now flared up again. Life had taught her well, kindness always carried a price. No one was ever sincere with her. No one ever truly cared.

She lowered her feet from the carriage slowly, stepping outside without a sound. Her steps were light, though her body remained frail.

By the riverbank, she spotted a little girl washing clothes. The clear water reflected the child’s tiny face. Ashtoria faintly remembered the girl’s voice before she lost consciousness.

‘Sister… what happened to you? Why are you hurt like this?’

The innocent words struck her like a blow. Ashtoria clenched her teeth. Why hadn’t the girl been afraid of her? Why had her eyes been filled with concern instead?

She turned. Not far away, a young man of about twenty years was practicing with his sword. Morning sunlight gleamed off the blade as he moved it with ease.

Ashtoria’s eyes narrowed. It was him. The man from last night. The face that had been blurry was now clear, as was the voice she still remembered—the calm voice that kept soothing her pain.

She recalled the feel of his hand brushing her hair. A warmth she should have rejected, but could not. She should have hated it. She should have killed anyone who dared touch her without permission.

But… this man…

Her heart beat slowly yet heavily. She did not know why, but her feet carried her forward on their own.

Without another thought, Ashtoria walked toward him.

Riven’s sword rang as it struck a large stone before him. Sparks flew, faint cracks marking the surface, though it held firm. He drew a deep breath, loosened his shoulders, then raised the blade again for another attempt.

But before the strike fell, the hairs on his neck rose. Something—a foreign presence—appeared beside him. His movement stopped, his grip on the hilt tightening. He turned sharply, and his heart lurched.

A woman’s face waited just inches from his own. Crimson eyes, empty yet piercing, stared straight at him. Her pale skin contrasted starkly with her long red hair, and she was so close that Riven’s breath caught.

His chest thudded wildly, his body stiff. He frowned, trying to mask his surprise with irritation.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Without a word, the woman—Ashtoria—shoved him hard. His back slammed into the boulder behind him, the impact echoing faintly. Stunned, he had no time to resist.

Her thin hand pressed firmly against his chest. Riven pushed back instinctively, but no matter how much force he used, the woman’s body would not budge. It was absurd—those frail arms held strength beyond reason, pinning him in place.

‘Damn…’ Riven cursed inwardly. He had suspected all along that this woman was no ordinary one.

Ashtoria said nothing, only stared straight into him. Crimson eyes probed him in silence. Riven couldn’t understand—what was she trying to do? Why treat him like this?

Frustration boiled within him. He had risked so much bringing her with him last night. His own life had nearly been lost fighting the man who hunted her. And now she was doing this?

Riven let out a sharp hiss, his voice edged with bitterness.

“Is this how you repay someone who saved your life? I nearly died fighting that lunatic who chased you last night. And this is my reward? Being pinned to a rock for no reason?”

Ashtoria didn’t answer. She tilted her head slowly, like a bird inspecting something strange. Deep inside, she wondered—had this man truly just scolded her?

Since she had ascended the throne, no human had dared speak to her so casually, let alone with a tone of complaint. To many, she was both majestic and terrifying. But this man… he was different. He spoke to her without fear, without hesitation. That only made her more curious about who he really was.

Riven’s face was rigid. His confusion deepened as Ashtoria leaned closer without a single word. Their closeness froze his breath; he could feel the cold seeping from her skin, clashing with his racing heartbeat.

‘Why is she just staring at me like this?’ he thought. He instinctively tried to pull his head back, but the rock left no space to retreat. There was nowhere to escape.

He was forced to meet her face up close. Her pale skin was smooth, though faintly worn from exhaustion. A faint scent of dried roses lingered in the air. Her crimson hair shifted, its strands brushing his shoulder, sending an odd shiver across his skin.

And when he gazed into those red eyes—deep, hollow, yet glowing like rubies in the dark—Riven felt as though something was trying to drag his soul inward.

For a moment, Riven was transfixed.

The long silence broke at last as Ashtoria parted her lips. Her voice was low, cold, and blunt:

“Your face… is strange.”

The words hit Riven harder than her shove. He froze, his brows knitting tight. His expression darkened at once.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep