Vol 1 Chapter 10: Clara, Roses, and Forgotten Feelings

A thin mist covered the path to the Valley of Roses. Amidst the green hills and the singing of morning birds, the group of horses slowly descended the rocky path.

In front, wearing a long brown coat and a round hat typical of royal investigators, Clara sat quietly on her horse. Her purple hair tied in a ponytail swayed gently in the valley breeze. Her face was like a stone statue, calm but alert, her eyes constantly observing her surroundings.

“This valley… is too quiet,” she murmured softly.

Behind her, several elite knights in white and gold robes stood guard silently, respecting Clara’s reputation as a lone investigator who often solved difficult cases alone.

—

The Welcoming Rose…

As soon as Clara entered the village boundary, something caught Clara’s eye that made her horse slow down.

Red rose petals fell from the wild bushes, as if welcoming her presence.

And in the air, faintly… she smelled a familiar scent.

The scent of blood and flowers… a mixture she had smelled seven years ago.

For a moment, Clara held her breath. Vague memories flashed. The blood-soaked palace steps, the laughter of two girls dancing on corpses, and... roses, there were always roses.

But her memories were hazy. After the incident with the memory artifact, many things had become like incomplete puzzles.

She closed her eyes. “Impossible,” she whispered. “It’s all... over.”

—

An Ordinary First Meeting...

In the middle of the village, Marry was choosing groceries with Caelan at the small market. As usual, her warm smile covered her soft face, and Caelan jogged carrying a bag of red apples.

Then they saw a group of horsemen entering the village.

Caelan pointed. “Mama, who is that?”

Marry turned and as her eyes met Clara’s—now dismounted from her horse—the world seemed to stop for a moment.

Instantly, her old instincts as a bloody executioner rose. There was an invisible tension in the air. It was as if two spirits from the past were staring at each other from behind their new skins.

But Clara showed no sign of recognizing her.

Instead, she just nodded politely.

“Good morning, villagers. I am Clara, an investigator from the center. I am on a mission to find two dangerous fugitives. We will be staying for a while to gather information. Please cooperate.”

Clara’s voice was firm but still gentle. She then looked at Marry for a moment. “Madam, excuse me… may I ask you something later?”

Marry nodded slowly. “Of course. I am just an ordinary mother.”

Clara briefly glanced at Caelan. Their eyes met.

Caelan just tilted her small head, then smiled cheerfully. “Hello, Pretty Big Sister!”

A faint smile appeared on Clara’s face without her realizing it. “Hello, Sweet Little sister.”

—

A Sneaking Memory…

That night, Clara sat in the room of the small village inn. In front of her, report papers were spread out. But her mind was not on the mission.

Instead, she drew the face of the woman she saw at the market earlier.

That face…

Something inside her felt familiar. Not because of the woman’s appearance, but because of the look in her eyes—calm but holding a wound. Eyes like that are only possessed by someone who has stepped on the line between life and death too many times.

Clara clutched her left chest.

I must have seen you… but when? Where?

She closed her eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of memories that had been hiding.

In her daydream, she vaguely saw the figure of a teenage girl armed with a bloody sword… staring at her, before disappearing into the silent night

—

Seeds of Suspicion and Attraction…

The next day, Clara walked back into the village, disguised as an ordinary villager. She secretly observed Marry from a distance, who was teaching Caelan to write letters with twigs on the ground.

The woman was too calm. Too neat. And… too perfect for someone who claimed to be an ordinary mother.

But strangely, there was not the slightest aura of evil. No hatred. No intention to hurt.

All Clara saw… was the sincere love of a mother for her daughter.

And that was what confused Clara.

If she was a remnant of the tragedy seven years ago… why couldn’t I feel it?

—

Behind the Rose Curtain...

That night, Clara wrote a report in her leather book.

Day 1: The village seemed peaceful. The fugitive had not been found. However… I met a woman who triggered something in my memory. Eyes like those of a bloody hunter, but her gaze was like a mother's. I was… confused.

On the last page, Clara drew a rose with drops of blood on its petals.

Am I… starting to remember something I shouldn't?

And under the moonlight that fell softly into the valley, two women who once stood on opposite sides now walked on almost intersecting paths—unaware, that their destinies had been entangled, for a long time.