"So you recognized it. Then you know whose sign it is."
Years ago, she had stumbled upon Karma's secret by accident. And Calix Benvito had guessed it.
Unlike Adele, Asella possessed no powers. At first, he had intended to let her live—but for reasons unknown, he had changed his mind. Now he was preparing an assault on the Charts family estate, determined to wipe it from existence and slaughter everyone within its walls. Afterward, he would present her with divorce papers. But it was a trap. Signing them would be an insult to the Benvito name—a convenient excuse to execute both her and Mariel. And when she had refused to sign in her dream, he had poisoned her without hesitation.
Mariel would meet the same fate. A terrible, inevitable end.
Once Mariel lost the protection of her family name...
_No!_
_He killed my mother. In my dream, he poisoned me without mercy. And it's inevitable—if these visions are truly the result of the Charts bloodline's abilities, I'm doomed._
_But Mariel. She can still be saved._
Asella's lips moved soundlessly, forming words that barely escaped her throat. Her face had drained of all color, and her voice sounded like someone who hadn't spoken in days. She crouched low, wrapping trembling arms around her shaking body. Her nightgown clung to her skin, soaked through with cold sweat. Her heart hammered against her ribs—a frantic, desperate rhythm.
_Still alive. I'm still alive._
It was a long, long night.
---
The next morning, Asella sat with Margot in the living room, a delicate teacup warming her cold fingers.
"His Highness is currently absent from the principality. The journey will take several days."
Asella already knew the Grand Duke had departed the previous night. Count Raizen Cardon had accompanied him, it seemed.
"What business required such urgency?" she asked, her expression darkening despite her efforts to remain composed.
Margot noticed immediately and hastened to reassure her. "You needn't worry, Your Grace. Mister Fabian has handled everything perfectly in the past, and he will continue to do so. Most of the guards remain stationed at the fortress. Everything proceeds as usual." She paused, offering a gentle smile. "And Miss Mariel's lessons will continue as scheduled."
Just as Margot had said, life within Benvito Fortress carried on regardless of the prince's presence. Everyone knew their place and duties, executing them flawlessly, without a single misstep.
Asella's days passed in ordinary routine—yet beneath the surface, anxiety coiled tighter with each passing hour.
_I should warn them._
The dream remained seared into her memory, vivid as a fresh wound.
She didn't know *why* Calix Benvito planned to attack her family's estate. The vision had offered no explanation. Most likely, the Emperor was involved somehow. But if they succeeded in destroying the Charts family, Mariel would be in even greater danger.
She couldn't simply *tell* someone about the impending attack. They would think her mad. But perhaps she could recommend strengthening the mansion's defenses—plant a seed of caution without revealing its source.
_But how?_
Asella had no way to contact Philip directly.
"Sister, is something troubling you?"
Mariel's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. The girl sat hunched over Lady Margot Roman's latest assignment, her brow furrowed in concentration, though her eyes kept drifting toward Asella with concern.
"No. Everything is fine."
"Nothing is fine." Mariel set down her pencil with a soft huff. "Your complexion has been terrible for days. And you're always frowning—even when you think no one is watching." Her small mouth pressed into a determined line. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
But Asella kept silent. She refused to frighten the child needlessly. More than anything, she wanted Mariel to grow up bright and unburdened—free from the fears that had shadowed her own existence.
Mariel studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "If you're sad, perhaps we should take another walk through the city? Fresh air might help."
"We don't have permission. And the Academy examinations are approaching—you need to focus on your studies." Asella shook her head slowly. "Besides, the Archduke isn't in the fortress, so there's no one to grant us leave to—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
_He isn't here._
The realization struck like lightning.
That man wasn't here. And *she* was the Grand Duchess. In the prince's absence, she had the authority to issue orders. This was her chance—perhaps her only chance—to warn those at Charts Manor. Even if it meant exposing herself to grave risk, it was worth the attempt.
Asella looked at her younger sister, resolve hardening in her chest.
"Mariel."
---
## — The City —
In the carriage, Asella nervously adjusted the letter tucked into her sleeve. Within its folds lay detailed instructions—warnings about strengthening the mansion's defenses, pleas to prepare for serious danger.
_This has to work._
Her actions weren't an attempt to save Philip or Anthony. She harbored no such illusions about her feelings toward them. All Asella wanted was to protect the family estate—and thereby ensure Mariel wouldn't lose the legacy she was destined to inherit. The Charts bloodline, Mother's true lineage, had to survive.
_But how can I contact the Postal Guild without arousing the guards' suspicions?_
In theory, it was possible. In practice... far more complicated. Sometimes it felt as though she was being watched constantly—not for a moment's respite, not even a single breath unobserved. Asella sighed softly, weighed down by the perpetual sensation of being under suspicion. Even when she did the simplest things.
A small, warm hand clasped hers.
"Sister."
Asella blinked. Mariel's palms pressed against her cold fingers, and the warmth seeped through, reaching something deep in her chest. Despite how small those hands were, she felt steadier.
"Don't worry too much."
Their eyes met—so similar in shape and color, yet reflecting different worlds of experience. In this moment, however, they held the same determination.
"You'll see," Mariel smiled, her expression bright with quiet confidence. "Everything will go as it should."
---
## — The Café —
"Two strawberry smoothies! And a basket of chocolate chip cookies!"
Mariel's voice rang out cheerfully as she settled into a chair at an open-air café. The establishment occupied prime real estate on a crowded square in the city's heart, surrounded by the bustle of merchants, street performers, and ordinary citizens going about their day.
The waiter who took their order—clearly nervous at serving such distinguished guests—hurried behind the counter with anxious efficiency.
"Come, sit down, Sister."
Asella lowered herself into the opposite chair, fighting to appear calm. But her nerves wound tighter with every passing second. Her fingertips had gone ice-cold, and a single thought pierced through her composure again and again:
_Everything could fall apart. And then even Mariel would face the Grand Duke's wrath._
_I shouldn't have involved her in this._
Belated remorse crashed over her. Perhaps it would be better to abandon the plan entirely—leave now, before it was too late, before she put her sister in danger—
"It's all right."
Mariel's lips moved silently, forming the words without sound.
Asella flinched, realizing her sister had read her thoughts in her expression. But Mariel only winked playfully, then clasped her hands together with theatrical flair.
"Oh! Sister! I nearly forgot—I must congratulate Madame Etman!"
"Yes, of course." Asella caught on immediately, smoothing her voice into something light and casual. "You should send her a letter with your warmest wishes."
Mariel produced a clean envelope from her pocket and positioned it over the folded paper Asella had passed her in the carriage. With exaggerated concentration, she pretended to write with a pencil, her tongue poking out slightly in a performance of childish diligence. Then she sealed the envelope with care.
Her eyes swept the square. Nearby, a group of shabbily dressed boys played among the cobblestones—chasing each other, kicking a deflated ball, laughing with the carefree abandon of children who had learned to find joy despite hardship.
Mariel selected the one who appeared most alert, most watchful. She fixed her gaze on him with unwavering intensity.
Finally, the boy sensed her attention. Their eyes met across the crowded square.
Mariel beckoned with a subtle gesture.
The child appeared at their table within moments, his expression wary but curious.
"You called me, miss?"
"Indeed I did." Mariel beamed at him. "My name is Mariel. And yours?"
"Tommy." He shuffled his feet. "My name is Tommy, miss."
"A fine name, Tommy." Mariel tilted her head, her smile turning mischievous. "Tell me—do you think my sister is very beautiful?"
The boy blinked several times in shock. Mariel's smile only widened, though privately she regretted her boldness.
"Do you like cookies?" She pushed the basket of desserts toward him.
But Tommy didn't immediately reach for it. His hand hovered uncertainly, then withdrew. It was the caution of a child who knew that handouts from strangers often came with dangerous strings attached.
_Perfect._
Mariel observed him carefully. If he had lunged for the food without thought, she would have found another messenger. Only someone with this level of vigilance could be trusted to complete the task without making mistakes.
She smiled again, sliding the basket closer.
"It's all right. Take as many as you like."
Tommy hesitated, then turned to look at Asella.
Asella nodded warmly. "We have plenty of cookies. Take as many as you want—for yourself and for your friends."
"You're... really allowing this?"
Only then did Tommy reach for the basket.
Mariel seized the moment. "Could you do us a small favor?"
The boy's hand jerked back instantly. His expression shuttered.
"Listen, miss. I won't do anything bad."
Asella recognized the wariness in his eyes—the hard-won wisdom of a child who had survived the streets. Children like Tommy faced countless dangers. Driven by hunger and desperation, many turned to crime simply to fill their starving stomachs and find shelter for the night. Most didn't survive to adulthood.
Tommy had lost friends that way. It was written in the set of his jaw, the defensive hunch of his thin shoulders. At some point, he had made a vow: never fall into criminality, even if it meant begging in the gutters.
"There's nothing wrong with this task, I promise." Asella kept her voice gentle, careful not to frighten him further. "My sister wishes to send a congratulatory letter to her former teacher. We simply don't have time to deliver it ourselves. All we need is for someone to take the letter to the Postal Guild."
Tommy blinked. His suspicious expression softened slightly—the task was far simpler than he had expected. But then his eyes narrowed again.
"You could send a letter by regular post. You don't have to use the Guild."
"That would take far too long." Mariel sighed with convincing disappointment. "The Guild can deliver within a week. Regular mail takes at least a month. And Madame Etman is surely waiting eagerly for my letter."
Her final words carried a faint, theatrical quiver—the suggestion of tears barely held back.
Tommy shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to respond. Judging by their clothes and bearing, the woman and girl before him were aristocrats of high standing. He had no idea what consequences might follow if he dared refuse them.
But his doubts evaporated when two silver coins landed on the table with a bright *clink*.
"Here." Asella smiled softly. "One coin to pay the Guild's delivery fee. The other is for the messenger's services."
Tommy's eyes went wide. Two silver coins glittered in the afternoon sunlight—a small fortune by his standards.
Then Asella continued, and his shock deepened.
"When you've completed the task, return here. You'll bring me the receipt confirming the letter's delivery." She met his gaze steadily. "If you do everything correctly and return, I'll give you two more coins—the same as these."
The boy swallowed hard. He couldn't tear his eyes from the silver.
"But regardless of your decision—even if you refuse—the cookies are yours. Take them all. Share them with your friends."
"Ha!" Tommy's eyes blazed with sudden determination. "I'll do it!"
*Three silver coins.*
It was an enormous sum. Enough to feed him and his friends for fifteen days, maybe more.
He accepted the letter with solemn dignity, holding it carefully as though it were something precious.
"Can I go now?"
He knew how fickle wealthy people could be. Their minds changed like the wind. He needed to complete this task before they reconsidered.
Without waiting for an answer, Tommy turned and sprinted through the crowded streets, his bare feet slapping against the cobblestones, the letter clutched tight against his chest.