“Haa…”

Evelia breathed out a puff of cold air and rubbed her reddened nose.

Winter had long since passed and spring had already arrived, but this late cold snap could still freeze a person half to death.

She gathered up her pink long hair. Letting it whip around in the cold wind felt awful. But if she pulled it together and wrapped it around her neck, that long hair became the warmest fur scarf she had.

Evelia Crozier. That was her name now.

As for what she had once been called, there was no way to verify it anymore. From the moment she became “Evelia Crozier,” her old name had been completely discarded. No record anywhere could trace who she really was.

And who could’ve imagined it? A cute girl with long pink hair like this had still been a young man just a few days ago. But now, she could only start over from nothing.

That nameless young man had once been an assassin from Nightingale House.

“Nightingale House” sounded cute and warm. That was because it had originally been an orphanage, founded by the church in the royal capital. It had a history of roughly two or three hundred years, a proper welfare home that took in homeless children. But after it fell into the hands of the Second Prince’s faction, everything changed. Little by little, it became an organization that trained street children into killers.

The Emperor had yet to pass away, but he was already old and chronically ill. He had been recuperating in the palace for years. He had two children: the Crown Prince, Solore Clareia, and the Second Prince, Erik Clareia.

By rank and title, the current Crown Prince was governing the court in his father’s place. But he had never truly received an imperial decree naming him the new Emperor. So as things stood, the politicians of the entire kingdom had split into two camps. One supported the Crown Prince. The other supported the Second Prince. Their open and hidden struggle had already gone on for five or six years.

Evelia had previously served under the Second Prince. She was an elite assassin through and through.

Her record was dazzling. Ever since she had been trained as a killer, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she had never failed once. Countless politicians and “unnecessary” witnesses had died by her hand. In the royal capital, stories about her had even been turned into all kinds of bizarre novels. In the world of assassins, calling her an idol figure wouldn’t be overstating it.

Other than the Second Prince, no one had ever known her real name. No one knew what she truly looked like, either. She had title after title, yet no one had ever known who she was.

But now, she was Evelia Crozier.

And the role she had to play was that of an ordinary maid.

From the time she could remember, Evelia had lived in Nightingale House. Like everyone there, she was an unwanted orphan.

Rumor had it that back then, she had been terribly thin from malnutrition. Her dark hair would take on a reddish tint under the sunlight. So in the version most widely spread among the common people, the name she was most often called was Crimson Crow.

She was the Second Prince’s most capable assassin, and the most successful product of his training. She herself had very little sense of right and wrong, good and evil. You could even say her sense of self was paper-thin. She only obeyed the Second Prince’s orders blindly. It had reached the point where, without his commands, she couldn’t even live normally.

Even a single line like “You don’t need to do anything” was far better to her than no order at all. She had to do something for the sake of an order. Otherwise, she couldn’t even breathe properly.

That was exactly why she could abandon her past without complaint and become “Evelia.” She cast aside her name, her appearance, even her sex. Under the Second Prince, she had no need for will or dignity.

This time, her final objective was to eliminate the Crown Prince.

After all, no matter how fiercely politicians fought with words, none of it compared to simply having the Crown Prince assassinated. If the Crown Prince died, and the aftermath was arranged properly, then the Second Prince could ascend the throne in the most legitimate way possible.

But going in for a direct assassination was obviously unrealistic. Even for a top assassin like Evelia, there was no such thing as absolute certainty. This wasn’t something to rush. She could only infiltrate his side slowly.

So the Second Prince set his sights on the man beside the Crown Prince: the Captain of the Royal Knights.

If Evelia was the Second Prince’s most loyal hound, then that captain was the sharpest blade at the Crown Prince’s side.

Arman Sistalia, the Crown Prince’s direct subordinate and Captain of the Royal Knights, was already covered in military glory despite his young age. He was one of the royal family’s brightest rising stars.

He was strikingly handsome. His short black hair was neat and crisp. Compared to all those people with flashy colors, he looked far steadier. His clear aqua-blue eyes were bright as lakewater. Looking at him, no one would guess that such a gentle-seeming man was actually a ruthless figure who held military power in his hands.

His looks and strength were both exceptional, but in social circles, opinions on him seemed sharply divided.

Some young ladies had long been enamored with him because of his appearance and his status as captain of the knights. But their fathers did not approve of the man at all.

Because Arman, according to rumor, was a complete and utter muscle-brain.

People often said the best kind of man was one who excelled in both letters and arms. Arman, however, was badly lopsided. He was an extraordinary military commander. He had never lost a battle while leading troops into war. If his combat record were laid out, it wouldn’t lose to Crimson Crow’s by much. But when it came to the “civil” side of things, he fell a bit short.

Everyone said he was a carefree sort. He often showed up casually at some tavern on the street, drinking the cheapest watered-down beer commoners had. Whenever he passed roadside stalls, he would listen to the vendors’ cries and buy all kinds of random useless junk. He even believed what fortune-tellers told him and ended up collecting all sorts of weird “blessed items.”

He didn’t like reading, either. He had no interest in literary works. He hated the poems nobles loved to recite, as if he were allergic to romance itself. Even a love poem could come out of his mouth sounding like a nursery rhyme.

At balls, the sort of place where etiquette mattered most, he never cared about other people’s eyes on him. He would down the prepared champagne, refuse invitations from ladies, and stay by the window alone to enjoy the wind. If he was in a good mood, he might even sit directly on the window rail, keep drinking, and stare at the moon. And at some point, without saying a word to anyone, he might just flip himself out the window, skip the carriage entirely, and ride the carriage horse home.

So for a man like him, most people’s verdict was this:

He’s a good general, a good warrior, but never fall for him. He could never become a good husband.

Of course, he had his good points too. He was carefree, but only because he was playful by nature. As for brothels and pleasure houses, he had never once gone near them. To him, raising a horse was more interesting than keeping a woman. As for all the marriage hints from other noble houses, he always rejected them openly. There were even rumors in noble society that “he couldn’t do it.”

This captain of the knights was Evelia’s target.

And the maid she had become was Arman’s maid.

Arman’s military achievements were dazzling, so the royal family naturally rewarded him. He had only recently returned from the battlefield. Since he was too exhausted to bother moving around much, he had temporarily stayed in the private residence the Crown Prince had used before moving into the palace. During that time, the royal family granted him an estate. Today was the day he and his old servants were moving into the new house.

And Evelia intended to slip in during the confusion.

Using “a royal recommendation” as her reason, she would become the attendant of this single-minded captain.

What she had to do was dig out everything related to the Crown Prince from Arman. If necessary, seducing this knight and becoming the woman at his bedside was also an option. Once all preparations were complete, she could dispose of the knight first, then move on to the Crown Prince.

“…Haa.”

Even after standing there for so long, the wind was still bitterly cold.

Evelia tugged at her collar and walked toward her destination.