It was too bright.
Mia's eyes fluttered open, and for a second—just a second—she thought she was in heaven. It was then interrupted by a world of pain; she ached everywhere. Her vision blurred, whites bleeding into reds, into orange. Then came the sounds. The crackling. The shrieking. The roar of flames clawing at wooden walls.
Her skin prickled. Sweat. Blood. Smoke.
She was hot. So hot it made her stomach twist, but still, a chill clung to her flesh. What was that? She wiped her brow. "Is this... blood..?"
Her ears rang. Her mind whirled.
She looked down.
It's blood. Hers.
Her nightdress was soaked in it. It clung to her arms, streaked her legs, and matted her hair. Bodies and some human parts surrounded her. She tried to stand, but her right leg screamed. Still, she rose. Her other leg dragged forward. The pain dulled under the weight of fear and desperation. "No, not you, not you."
She didn't care. Not about the rest anyway. She had seen worse.
But...
"Ari…" she croaked. Her voice barely made it past her lips. "Ari!" she cried louder. Again. And again.
No answer.
She turned her body, forcing herself to move, her vision blurring, her blood matching the temperature around her, hot and boiling. "No, no, no Ari..."
Then—Snap.
Mia gasped, jolting upright. Her vision was bright, like déjà vu. Her eyesight adjusted. She was in the bath. Steam rose lazily around her, clouds forming above the surface of rose-scented water. The stone bathroom was spacious, marbled and grand, warm lanterns casting golden light along the high glass walls. For a moment, she stared at the pillar before her, her mind blank.
A maid stood silently beside the tub.
Selene.
In her hands, a thick towel. Her expression unreadable, professional. Her uniform, pristine. She had a weak presence; even Mia had not noticed her at first.
Mia blinked. Her heart still thundered in her chest.
"Selene..." she called.
"Yes, Miss Mia?"
But she wasn't thinking about this Selene. Her eyes had glazed over, burning with rage. She clenched her small fists beneath the surface.
Selene noticed. She always noticed. But said nothing, as always.
Mia didn't hate her. On the contrary, she was grateful. Selene had been there from day one, since Ken brought her here. She took care of her. She was kind. Gentle. Careful. Was this... what mothers were supposed to be like?
She wouldn't know. But the thought made her chest ache.
Life here was quiet. She liked that about the villa.
Since coming to the villa, things had changed. She studied. She learned. She observed. But she spoke little. Her icy silence had earned her a reputation among the staff. Most avoided her. The maids whispered. Some even feared her. Except Selene, Robert, and—
—Sebastian.
He was different. Older. Salted hair slicked back, eyes sharp beneath well-worn lines. He moved with the grace of someone who had once lived a violent life. Mia could see it in the way he walked—measured, alert. His presence was calm, but cold like steel.
He was no ordinary butler.
They played chess and Go sometimes. He won every time. Not out of mercy, but precision. She respected that. He made her think harder. He never treated her like a child. And that made her fond of him.
Selene handed her the towel. Mia took it without a word and stood.
Steam followed her.
Selene stepped forward and began gently drying her hair. Mia normally hated being touched—her body flinched even at the thought of it. But Selene… she was different. Mia allowed it.
The scent of her perfume was soft, lavender, and something warmer. Too close.
Before she could stop herself, Mia leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Selene's waist.
The maid froze for a second.
"Miss Mia?" she asked in that sweet, warm voice.
Mia didn't reply.
Selene didn't ask again. She accepted the silence like a secret and held the girl with one arm while drying her hair with the other.
Once dressed in her white silk robe, Mia walked barefoot down the villa hallway, her tiny feet making soft taps on the floor. She was heading to the balcony as she often did.
But then the sound changed.
A heavier footfall. She turned.
Selene was gone.
Sebastian stood behind her.
Mia blinked. Then looked ahead again.
They really are in sync, she thought.
Selene for her comfort. Sebastian for her protection.
She reached the glass balcony doors but didn't open them. She had been told not to—too dangerous at night. So she stood there, eyes drinking in the moonlight stretching across the hills. Then she heard it.
The low purr of a car pulling into the driveway.
Ken.
She heard Robert's voice, muffled, speaking about the party… about an engagement.
She moved. Down the stairs, bare feet silent, shadows curling around her like mist. She stepped into the entrance hall just as Ken walked in.
Their eyes met.
And something warm—something she didn't understand—bloomed in her chest.
Ken paused. The room was dim—just how she liked it. His eyes adjusted quickly, landing on her small figure standing at the stairwell. Sebastian loomed quietly behind her, a ghost in the half-dark.
His fatigue ebbed a little.
He stepped forward, stopping at the base of the stairs to meet her at eye level.
"How are you, Mia? Do you like it here?"
She was quiet at first. Then, softly—
"Yes, Mister Rowland."
He raised a brow. "Mister Rowland, huh? You know you're my daughter now, right? I won't abandon you. Mia, you are my responsibility now, whatever you need, just ask."
A beat of silence.
Then, like a trembling echo: "Y...yes, f...father."
Ken felt something inside him soften—melt. He hadn't expected that. Was she… finally opening up?
"Um, father… I have a request. Can I have full authority over Sebastian? I want him as a teacher."
"Teacher?" Ken repeated, glancing up at Sebastian.
For a split second, the butler's eyes widened—then, gone. Calm returned to his face.
Does she know? They both wondered.
"Yes. I want him to guide me. In the arts."
"How could you tell?" Ken asked, his voice more curious than accusing.
But Mia said nothing.
He sighed, then gave a small nod. "I can't give you full authority over him, Mia. But you can talk to him. If he agrees, I won't stop it."
Sebastian gave a deep, respectful nod. "I will comply, sir—but Miss Mia must understand, this path is difficult, though I must say... You have the perfect martial art physique."
Ken left for his studies. Later, a soft knock tapped on the door.
"Enter," Ken said. Selene and Sebastian walked in.
"Report," Ken commanded, leaning back in his chair.
Selene spoke first, her tone formal, but calm.
"Her behavioral habits remain consistent. Quiet. Cautious. Intentional silence. Emotional control is abnormally high for a child. Earlier in the bath, she muttered my name with... noticeable emotion. She clenched her fists. Anger. Possibly hatred. Yet moments later, she hugged me without explanation."
She paused. "Upon contact, I discovered markings on her back. Whip scars. Recent and healed both. I believe she has been tortured."
Ken's eyes narrowed.
"Also," Selene continued, "Her detection of my presence, her rejection of bright light, and her ability to sense Sebastian's true nature… these suggest she may have been raised in a militant or violent environment. Possibly by fighters. Assassins. The trauma may be linked to someone named 'Selene.'"
Ken's jaw tensed.
"That completes my report," she said with a step back.
Sebastian stepped forward, voice low but even.
"Even trained killers can't sense me, sir. Yet she did. As for her intelligence, during our strategy sessions, she shows high-level predictive thinking, rapid learning, and mental discipline. Near-flawless pattern recognition. Her IQ, as previously recorded, exceeds yours by two points."
He adjusted his gloves. "Her requests are calculated. She sees people not emotionally, but by function. Tools. Assets. She values usefulness, not life."
Ken said nothing.
Sebastian added, "The way she walks—silent. Balanced. It's difficult to learn and apply this technique. `The silent ghoul`. Used only by a few assassins trained in infiltration, it stains one's movements, requires a slightly evolved muscle arrangement, yet... she executes it constantly as if second nature. Combine that with her light sensitivity, and my conclusion is this: she may have been raised under surveillance. Caged. Conditioned."
A cold silence fell.
Selene bowed her head. "We do not know the full extent of what she's endured, sir. But it is not ordinary."
Ken's fingers tapped against the desk, slow and steady.
Ken leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "Monitor her closely. But do not make her feel watched. If she senses it, we lose her."
Selene bowed. Sebastian simply nodded.
Ken looked toward the window. Outside, the night stretched on—quiet, black, and bottomless.
What life had little Mia lived…?
And why did it feel like something was coming?
No... not coming.
Already here.