“Poor wretch, I call upon the gods to send an angel with medicine for you;
This Forgetting Sorrow Elixir can end your longing for the one you lost—
But the Raven says: never again.”
The poetic play on stage concluded with the confrontation between the two young girls.
Ophelia folded down her crossed leg and glanced sideways at Anastasia standing behind her.
Anastasia wore a maid’s uniform, her silver hair tied into a ponytail falling behind her.
Her expression was solemn and tense, far less casual than usual; though she was a maid, she looked more like a soldier.
The stage performance had been excellent. If this wasn’t the umpteenth time Ophelia had watched it, she would have surely shed tears with the rest of the audience.
The play titled 《Raven》 told of the obsessive and tragic love between two girls. No one could resist crying at the scene where the arrow pierced the lover’s chest at the finale.
But Anastasia… was she even watching?
Ophelia had specifically booked a VIP box to bring Anastasia to see the play.
“Anastasia, were you watching?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me what you thought?”
Anastasia’s expression softened in an instant. She crouched down to meet Ophelia’s gaze eye to eye.
Staring earnestly into Ophelia’s eyes, she confessed sincerely:
“I didn’t understand it.”
For a moment, Ophelia felt like she was flirting with a blind person.
She had painstakingly arranged this outing on her day off and even chosen this particular play, thinking her intentions were clear.
Yet Anastasia didn’t get it.
“But I think, if it were me and Ophelia, I wouldn’t point a sword at Ophelia.”
An unexpected remark.
“Anastasia, do you really not understand, or are you pretending? Shooting an arrow into one’s lover’s chest is to end her pain and struggle.”
“But there should be other ways, right? I think weapons should never be aimed at the person you love.”
Anastasia turned her face away, as if speaking a shy love confession. “Rather than shooting an arrow into your lover’s chest, you should both draw the bow and shoot the arrow at the source of the suffering together.”
“That’s…”
Ophelia was speechless. She had said she didn’t understand, but she had already thought of a different ending… she didn’t know what to say.
But that ending was certainly very Anastasia’s style.
“Then why do dramas always like to separate those who love each other?”
Before Anastasia’s voice could fall, the VIP box door suddenly opened.
Before Ophelia could turn to look, Anastasia drew the Sword of the Brave, the blade pointing directly at the newcomer.
“Miss.”
A familiar voice. Ophelia turned, and the man was Yegor, captain of her father’s royal guard.
Father… what did he want?
“The Duke asked me to deliver a message.” Yegor’s fingers clamped down on Anastasia’s blade and tugged hard, but the sword didn’t budge.
The pressure transmitted through the sword made Anastasia’s hand numb; she almost lost her grip.
She glanced at Ophelia, and with a silent nod, she sheathed the sword and stood silently behind Ophelia.
“What message does my father want you to deliver?”
“…”
Yegor didn’t answer immediately. He glanced at Anastasia with a sneer, clearly indicating that as long as Anastasia was here, he wouldn’t say a word.
“Ophelia… Miss, I’m waiting for you outside.”
As Yegor brushed past, Anastasia deliberately bumped into his shoulder in retaliation.
“Now you can speak, Yegor.”
Ophelia crossed her arms, coldly eyeing the man before her.
Yegor had twice participated in expeditions to defeat the Demon King, returning unscathed both times.
He was once the closest in strength to a certain generation’s Sword of the Brave—until that hero fell beneath the Demon King’s castle.
The sword he brought back still quietly lay in Ophelia’s room in the Northern Territories.
Ophelia had already seen through the silent clash earlier: Anastasia was no match for Yegor.
“Of course, my lady.”
Yegor pressed his hand to his chest in salute. “The Duke has heard of your recent deeds in the capital. He praised you highly for your conduct during the attack you faced there.”
“If he has time for that, he should take better care of the old soldiers who once followed him on expeditions.”
Mentioning the attack in the capital reminded Ophelia of those veteran soldiers in the ward village.
She had sent money and provisions afterward, but they had refused them sternly.
Fortunately, the Shield of the Brave still looked after them, so they had no need to worry about their livelihood.
“But… the Duke is more concerned about something else.”
“What? Say it all at once.”
Ophelia frowned, suspicious that her father might have discovered the secret between her and Anastasia—but that was impossible; he had no reason to know.
Unless… someone had betrayed them.
“That maid just now—Anastasia Zieglande, right? The Sword of the Brave.”
“Yes. I bought her and made her my servant. What’s wrong with that?”
Yegor took a step closer. Though his manner remained respectful, Ophelia instinctively felt threatened.
Was this a warning from her father so far away in the North?
“If she’s just a maid, I suppose the Duke would have no objection. But… Miss, do you really treat her only as a maid? Does she only see you as her mistress?”
“What do you mean?”
Yegor pulled out a Recording Crystal from his cloak. Anastasia was familiar with such cheap magical devices.
Among the people she knew, one ill-tempered fellow liked to use these tricks.
Everything made sense now—it was Beatrice.
She had exploited Anastasia’s trust, recorded something from her, then handed it to their father…
“Shall I play it, Miss?”
“Go ahead. I want to hear what my Anastasia said about me.”
“As you wish.”
The recording was carefully edited, leaving only Anastasia’s voice.
The wind suggested the place was the academy rooftop—the spot where Anastasia had handed over that letter, which in fact was a trap to lure her in.
Ophelia regretted deeply.
If only she had been there at the time.
“It seems your maid likes you very much, Miss. The Duke is quite concerned about this. Moreover, he has also heard about what you did to the Karate Family’s young master…”
Yegor’s words trailed off, but Ophelia understood the implication.
“Father means for me to return to the North?”
“Exactly. And the Duke demands you bring your maid with you.”
“Hey! Anastasia is innocent!”
Snapping back to reality, Ophelia slammed her palm hard on the armrest.
In desperation, she had just slapped the table in front of the captain she had feared since childhood.
Hearing the noise, Anastasia pushed open the door, sword once again gathered in hand.
Her eyes fixed on Yegor; any sudden movement from him would bring her blade down without hesitation.
“The Duke does not intend to trouble a fallen hero.”
Yegor ignored Anastasia again, but deliberately raised his voice, each word stabbing into her heart. “He only wishes for her to witness her mistress’s wedding.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I must apologize for the rudeness.”
The moment Yegor moved his foot, Anastasia’s sword struck precisely in front of him.
Unconcealed murderous intent erupted between them; Anastasia stood firmly to shield Ophelia.
Ophelia did not doubt Anastasia was prepared to fight to the death.
“Miss, do you want to see your beloved toy turned into scrap parts?”
Yegor didn’t even attempt to draw his sword.
“And as for that self-righteous hero over there, if it had been three years ago, you might have been a match for me. But now… do you truly intend to make an enemy of me?”
“Then come and try.”
Anastasia’s reply was cold.
“Anastasia, put away your sword.” Ophelia’s voice trembled behind her. Anastasia glanced back; Ophelia’s face was dark, expression unreadable.
“Ophelia…”
“Do you want me to say it a second time? Anastasia.”
A burning heat flared in Anastasia’s lower abdomen, scorching her mind. Ophelia… had activated the crest.
“Ophelia!”
But Anastasia still planned to resist to the end.
“Yegor, I agree to return with you. But Anastasia… must stay by my side.”
“Understood. I will be waiting promptly at the academy gate tomorrow morning.”
Yegor bowed to Ophelia. Before leaving, his gaze lingered deeply on Anastasia.
“You are too weak.”
His voice was faint but cut through Anastasia’s chest like a blade.