“What’s wrong?” The one-eyed man strode over, seeing the bandits had failed to secure the villagers properly. He tossed the little boy into the cell without a second thought.

Thud—the boy hit the hard, grimy floor but scrambled up instantly, glaring fiercely at the bandits.

“Boss, the lock’s broken…”

“Broken? Fine. Tie the door shut with rope. You lot stand guard with your blades. I doubt they’ll dare rush out.”

Waving dismissively, the one-eyed man cut him off and flung the lock aside.

The bandits exchanged glances. Made sense—these villagers weren’t suicidal.

Sophia’s gaze dropped to the lock lying near her feet. A cold glint flashed in her eyes.

She slipped silently from behind the door. Her steps were feather-light; the bandits faced away. No one noticed.

Except the villagers locked inside.

But before they could place the cloaked, faintly familiar figure, Sophia had already stepped out.

Creak—the cell door slammed shut.

The bandits froze, panic flickering across their faces as they whirled toward the entrance.

“Why’s the door closed!?” The one-eyed man scowled, hefting his sword and striding forward.

He’d taken only two steps when a cerulean magic circle bloomed across the sealed door.

…

…

Sophia slowly tucked away her wand and leaned against the door. Muffled screams seeped through—

wails like vengeful spirits, lamentations of devils.

Only when the cries faded did she straighten. Gently stroking An’s fur nestled in her arms, she slipped toward the woods beyond the camp.

She had no wish to be seen by the villagers emerging soon. Unnecessary trouble.

…

Sophia pushed through the forest and reached a babbling stream. Thirst prickled her throat after the long trek.

She could’ve conjured water with magic—but she wanted rest.

The water, fed by a mountain spring, ran crystal clear. Safe to drink, at least.

*Gurgle…*

A strange sound broke the quiet.

An slowly opened his eyes, glancing at the girl’s stomach. A teasing glint danced in his gaze.

Sophia was hungry.

After all, since yesterday dawn, she’d eaten only two sour wild fruits An had brought.

She caught An’s look. Usually indifferent to his teasing, she still felt a faint blush rise.

Then her eyes met the stream. A spark lit her face. *Shink*—she drew the dagger from her waist.

An watched, curious, as she slipped off her shoes and black robe, slightly lifted her skirt hem, and stepped into the water.

Dagger raised, she focused intently on the ripples, waiting for her next target.

Morning light, soft and warm, gilded her golden hair, deepening the gentle radiance of her already striking beauty.

Days of travel had faded her white dress. The lifted hem revealed slender legs submerged in the clear current.

With each slight shift, the fabric fluttered—hinting at mysteries beneath.

An shot her a bored glance, closed his eyes, and murmured, “Remember to catch one… no, two fish for me too.”