Chapter 1
A very remote village in the north.
A woman with long brown hair crouched in a small field, the wind blowing her hair as she picked stones out of the soil. It was land wholly unsuited for cultivation—her pickaxe barely sank into the ground. She swung it down with all her strength, sending clouds of dust into the air.
“Can anything even grow in a place like this?”
She had spent every last coin she had to buy it, and now all she could do was sigh.
‘It’s the perfect house and field for you!’
The weasel-faced broker who had confidently recommended this place suddenly came to mind.
‘Should I hunt him down and beat him?’
Her sharp gaze flashed—but it was better to avoid causing unnecessary trouble. Honestly, it sounded like too much work anyway.
“No point complaining. I should at least try.”
She planned to cultivate this land properly and gradually expand it over time.
After focusing on her work for a long while, Freya straightened up. Beads of sweat trickled down between her smooth brows. Her green eyes, sparkling in the sunlight, drifted toward the distant mountains.
This place is very far from the imperial palace.
A flicker of longing passed across Freya’s face as someone crossed her mind, but it quickly faded when she heard the sound of a bell tied to the fence.
“What was that? The wind?”
This path was used more often by animals than people—it could be a large bear or a deer. With her pickaxe tucked at her side, Freya cautiously moved behind the house.
“What the—what is that?”
The fence hadn’t been broken by an animal. It was clearly the work of a human. Someone was leaning against the shattered fence—no, sprawled there like discarded laundry. As she approached the unidentified figure, her mouth went dry.
He’s huge.
No matter how much training she had, her chances of winning a fight against a man that big were slim.
“Blond…”
Though his body was smeared with filth, the man’s hair glinted under the sunlight. For some reason, Freya’s heart began to pound.
“Hey. Are you alright?”
She stepped closer and spoke, but the man didn’t respond—his injuries must have been severe.
He doesn’t look like he’s in any condition to hurt me.
She lifted her head and scanned the area. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around.
“I need to deal with this quickly.”
Setting the pickaxe down, she hurriedly lowered the man from the fence. The moment she saw his face, Freya clamped both hands over her mouth and screamed.
“…Lucius!”
Why was he here? And in this condition?
There were only two choices.
Ignore Lucius—or help him.
Freya let out a long sigh, looked around once more, then made her decision.
She soon returned with a thick sack, laid him down, and dragged him along. Each step took immense effort, sweat soaking her back.
“He’s so heavy.”
After laying Lucius on a soft cloth near the stove, she rushed back outside to fix the fence. Then she carefully erased the traces along the path he had come from. Even as she worked, her thoughts were consumed by the man she had left alone inside the house.
“Huff… huff…”
By the time she returned, completely exhausted, dusk had already fallen.
Leaning against the door, Freya let out a deep sigh. Had it been too much to hope for a quiet, new life?
“Why does this have to happen to me…”
Her eyes reddened at the sight of him lying near the stove, soaked in blood. As she wiped her eyes, she winced—thorns embedded in her fingertips stung sharply.
“This isn’t the time for that.”
The cloth beneath him was drenched in blood. She brought another and layered it on top, whispering softly.
“I’m going to take a look at your wounds.”
To do that, she had to remove his clothes. She had seen countless bare bodies on the battlefield, but being alone with him like this made her fingers tremble slightly. Freya shook her head and steeled herself.
“Right now, Lucius is just a patient.”
She opened the medicine case and moved to examine his injuries when he groaned with his eyes still shut.
“Ugh… ah…”
“Luce! Are you conscious?”
When she called his name, Lucius flailed weakly and began tearing at his shirt.
“Stop! You’ll reopen your wounds—!”
But he didn’t seem to hear her. His rough hands shredded the bloodstained shirt to pieces.
Soon, firm, taut muscles were revealed.
“Why would you suddenly do that…”
Freya’s cheeks flushed as she turned her head away slightly.
Even without looking, she already knew the scars on his back and sides all too well.
I don’t even know how I feel.
She couldn’t tell whether she was glad to see him again or distressed. As she wrestled with those complicated emotions, his large hand twitched.
“Fre…ya…”
His pronunciation was unclear, but she knew exactly whom he was calling. Why would he call her name in such a state?
When you’re practically dying…
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to ignore his trembling hand. Freya hesitantly reached out and grasped it tightly. His hand was so cold it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
“I’ll make sure you recover. And then… you’ll leave.”
As she crushed herbs and applied them to his wounds, her hands paused again and again. The sword wounds running from his side to his chest were severe.
How did Lucius end up like this?
But the question was meaningless. He was surrounded by enemies everywhere he went.
After loosely bandaging his wounds, Freya pulled a blanket made of animal fur up over his chest.
I never imagined we’d meet again like this.
Once everything was done, exhaustion crashed over her all at once. Dark circles under her eyes, Freya slowly climbed onto the narrow cot. Her roughly tied brown hair spilled down her back, and her indifferent green eyes drifted toward Lucius.
Ah…
This wasn’t the first night she’d spent near him—but she couldn’t understand why she was so aware of him now.
He’s strong. He’ll recover quickly.
No matter how much she shifted, sleep wouldn’t come easily.
The minor discomfort stirred memories she thought she’d long forgotten.
Lottie… Luce…
Children lying together in a cramped bed filling the small room.
And one of those children had been her.
***
Until she turned seven, Freya hadn’t fully understood the circumstances surrounding her life—why there were so many children in the large, dilapidated house where she lived, or why she and the other children had to go out to work every morning.
“Freya. Get ready.”
Whenever Aunt Sophia called out, Freya would jump up, take off her worn nightclothes, and change into her only set of outdoor clothes. By the time she went downstairs—wearing clothes patched more than they were original—dozens of children would already be seated around the long dining table. The shared bedrooms and dining hall had no heating at all, and her lips were always tinged blue from the cold.
“Unnie, what’s for breakfast today?”
She asked an older child seated beside her, but as always, there was no response. Used to it, Freya babbled on without embarrassment.
“I hope there’s lots of potatoes.”
But all that was in the bowl was thin broth—and only half a serving at that. Without even lifting her spoon, Freya gulped the gruel down. The lukewarm liquid settling into her empty stomach brought an unintentional smile to her lips. The bowl was empty in an instant, and she cast a longing glance at the pot.
Yikes—!
Her eyes met Aunt Sophia’s, and Freya immediately lowered her head. Sophia despised greedy children. Freya, already singled out for dislike, had to be especially careful.
“Let’s all do our best today as well.”
Sophia waved a long switch as she urged the children on. Tension filled their faces as she walked around, pointing out a few of them.
“Lily. You’ve grown quite a bit.”
The dress Lily wore had become so small it barely reached her ankles. A strange smile crossed Sophia’s face before she spoke in an oddly gentle tone.
“From today on, Lily, you don’t need to go out anymore.”
“Wow, lucky. Does that mean Lily’s getting adopted?”
“Maybe Father’s taking her to the capital.”
Children chosen by Sophia no longer had to work—and that was a dream for every child there.
What would it feel like to sleep in or lie around all day?
No matter how hard she tried, Freya couldn’t imagine it. And even hinting at such laziness would surely bring Sophia’s switch crashing down on her back, arms, or face.
“Freya. From today on, you’ll take Lottie with you.”
“…Yes.”
Freya nodded obediently. Four-year-old Lottie usually followed her well, but she was also prone to crying and whining—nothing but a nuisance.
“Hey. Hurry up.”
“Freya unnie, my legs hurt.”
After walking just a short distance, Lottie—with her bloated belly—plopped down on the road. The meager breakfast had already been digested, and the cold made Freya’s body shrink in on itself. But there was still a long way to go, and failing to work properly would spell disaster.
This is such a pain…
She shouted softly at Lottie, who was sitting and playing with dirt.
“I’ll carry you. Just for a little bit.”
At her words, Lottie jumped up and toddled over, climbing onto her back. The scrawny seven-year-old girl staggered under the weight.
“I like piggyback rides.”
After walking for a while, Lottie whispered, rubbing her cheek against Freya’s back. For no reason at all, Freya’s eyes stung.
This is so annoying.
Lottie being that happy over something so small—and the way Freya’s chest tightened at the sound of her joy—she hated all of it.
