The Dove of The Lost Lands | English Version | Slow Update

Chapter 5

The Demon in the Beast's Shadow

From the moment I became sentient in this world, I've been a keen observer of human nature, particularly during instances of violence and sacrilege.

I've lost count of the number of times I've been the target. Yet, each attempt is miraculously foiled. I still remember that day. A nobleman acquired me from a slave market.

At our initial encounter, he seemed as harmless as a lamb. He was attractive and appeared incapable of inflicting harm, given his treatment towards me. Even his voice had a soothing quality, but rumours often carry a kernel of truth. One should never trust appearances until they truly understand the individual.

I slept soundly, thinking I was fortunate with my first master, never foreseeing that he would become a menace to me.

My heart throbbed when I felt the nobleman's hand slowly inching towards my private areas. I swiftly got up and resisted. I can still vividly recall how I fought back when he tried to impose himself on me.

I struggled, pushed, and attempted to put distance between us. I sobbed when he was about to strip me. But suddenly, he clutched his chest and gasped for air.

I inhaled sharply and nervously retreated from him. Gradually, his breath waned, leading to his untimely end.

I crumbled to the floor. I couldn't fully process everything that had unfolded. All I could do was rise and walk away.

I woke up to the bright symbol and bars that invaded my sight. Only then did I realise that darkness had previously shrouded us. I wondered why, of all the memories I could dream of, it was that one memory I yearned to forget.

I got up, realising what had transpired. I quickly surveyed the surroundings and spotted the Lady in the cell next to mine. The thick iron bars and the chains on our feet kept us separated.

I tried to get closer to get a better view of the Lady, and that's when I was struck with fear and shock at her condition. She was unconscious, but... her clothes.

Tears flowed down my face. My hands gripped the bars tightly. The Lady was covered in bruises and wounds, possibly from a whip or physical assault.

"L-Lady..." I weakly called out to her, uncertain if she could hear me.

I felt a wave of relief when her eyes slowly fluttered open. Despite her weakness, the Lady managed to speak.

"Y-Yonahara..."

"Milady..."

I couldn't contain my tears at the sight of the Lady's condition. I reached out and held her hand. She reciprocated.

"L-Lady... you need to stay strong... We need to escape," I said, my voice quivering.

But the Lady merely shook her head. I felt even more powerless when I saw in her eyes that she wanted to surrender. There was sorrow and anger present, but the overwhelming emotion was profound grief.

The once stern and serious Lady was now visibly suffering. And now, I couldn't comprehend the emotions that flowed from her eyes—the tears.

Tears of longing. And when she spoke, I was finally able to piece it all together. Though it wasn't clear, I was given a small clue.

"He's gone... He's gone..." And it hurt me even more. "I didn't even get to talk to him or see him. Never again."

Hearing the cries of the Lady I served shattered my heart. Even though I was her slave, Lady Varrella was the only person I can say I served faithfully.