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Chapter 57 

The only small relief was that Irina was no longer in the village.

She had moved to the capital, to live under the Duke’s protection—something that had always made Alisha uneasy. But today, she was grateful.

And Daniel… he was dead.

That, too, was a grim comfort.

Even if the temple knights found their way to the cabin in the woods, they would only find faint traces of Daniel. Few traces of Irina remained there.

Although… anyone observant enough would easily see that she had been his daughter.

“She lived in the mountains, then?”

“Yes.”

Alisha led the two men quietly, their eyes sharp and calculating.

She feared they weren’t just here for Daniel. Maybe now, they were after Irina herself.

When Bernice had to leave the cabin to earn money, Daniel had once told Alisha:

“Protect Irina. That’s all I ask.”

She didn’t care if they found traces of Daniel. He was gone. They couldn’t drag a dead man back to the temple.

And she didn’t care if they learned she had lived with him.

What she did care about—was Irina.

If they learned that Daniel had passed down his divine power, that he had a child who inherited it…

They’d imprison Irina. Use her. Bleed her dry—just like they had done to Daniel.

And so Alisha veered off the path.

She wasn’t heading to the cabin after all.

“Are we going the right way?” one of the knights asked warily. “Beastkin?”

His eyes widened.

Her olive eyes turned gold. Her body shifted—fur sprouted, fangs bared.

The knights reached for their swords, startled.

“A beastkin…!”

But Alisha didn’t fight.

She didn’t need to.

Even if she killed them, more would come. The temple always sent replacements.

So she fled.

Fast and silent.

They shouted behind her—commands, curses—but she was already deep in the woods.

Damn it!

How much of Irina’s past was still inside that house?

She ran faster.

The old cabin came into view. She transformed back into human form and burst inside, panting.

Daniel’s presence still lingered: his few keepsakes, worn clothes, and an old photograph of Bernice, Daniel, Alisha—and young Irina.

She shoved everything into a large bag.

Irina’s old clothes. Letters she had sent. Even the money Irina had sent back—untouched until now.

She gathered it all.

Then vanished deeper into the forest.

Irina’s identity had to remain hidden. For now, she was still under the Duke’s protection. That was enough.

Even if that protection was temporary.

“I never thought I’d say this, but… thank the Duke.”

Those nobles she once hated—today, they were the only thing shielding Irina from the temple.

Even if someone recognized her face, they might not connect it. There were others in the Empire with beige hair and blue eyes.

Please, let “Irina” be a common enough name…

She couldn’t return to the village. She had to disappear further into the mountains.

The voices of the temple knights still echoed behind her.

She gritted her teeth.

She wanted to stay in that cabin. To protect what remained of their life together.

But she couldn’t.

They’d find the place. And when they realized it had been abandoned, they might leave.

Once she was safe—far beyond the Empire—she would contact Irina.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Don’t let them find her…”

⸻

Back in the Capital…

—Rumors Dispelled?

—Once the center of scandal, the Crown Prince and Lady April appeared as affectionate as ever.

Thwack!

Rozian hurled the newspaper across the room.

It struck the wall and fluttered to the floor.

Tamitarte swallowed hard. Her mood was sharp, dangerous.

She had been waiting for the prince to break off the engagement.

Now, instead, she was reading about “sweet dates.”

The handmaiden beside her trembled, head bowed low. She feared Rozian’s wrath might turn on her.

Tamitarte subtly motioned for her to leave. The maid fled, closing the door behind her.

Rozian clenched her fists.

She had tried pairing the prince with every noble girl she liked—but he never showed interest.

“Daniel?” she snapped.

“We haven’t found him yet.”

Her voice rang with fury.

“It’s been twenty years! Not even a single hair?”

They had hunted Bernice and Daniel for decades. Found Bernice. Not Daniel.

“I should’ve killed that wench when I had the chance.”

Tamitarte’s eyes narrowed.

Rozian had ignored his pleas to spare Bernice. She’d tortured her instead.

Even so, Bernice never gave up Daniel’s location. Not once.

She went to her grave smiling.

Tamitarte suspected why—because if Daniel were ever found, his daughter would be exposed, too.

Rozian’s rage wasn’t just about the past. It was about the article.

Rumors dispelled? It had a question mark. But the photos spoke for themselves.

She had seen April with Perfoné. Seen the warmth.

Was it the real April? Or the fake?

She didn’t know.

And that uncertainty made her angrier.

Tamitarte finally spoke.

“What if he’s dead?”

Rozian froze.

“What?”

Tamitarte met her eyes calmly.

“It’s been over twenty years. We’ve searched the Empire top to bottom. No trace.”

“He might be dead.”

Rozian’s breath caught.

She needed Daniel—to remain young. Immortal.

Tamitarte continued:

“After Bernice died, could Daniel really survive alone?”

He had no job. No status. No way to earn money—except by using divine power.

If he had used it, they would’ve found him long ago.

“But he never did.”

“So he’s likely dead.”

Please, Tamitarte thought. Let it end here.

Let her stop searching. Let Irina stay hidden.