Zephyra's Diary: That's how they started calling me "Iron Maiden"

   If someone had told me years ago that I’d be scouted by the noble to become its assisstant, I would have laughed in their face. The thought of moving from an orphanage to the world of high society—let alone technology and magic—felt more like a poorly written fairy tale than real life.

   But reality had its own way of surprising me.

   The first time I saw Lucian’s residence, I didn’t know how to react. The car pulled into a quiet, gated estate surrounded by towering trees and trimmed hedges that looked like they belonged in a magazine. The mansion itself stood at the heart of it all—tall and elegant, with sleek stonework and glowing crystal lamps lining the walkway. I stood frozen just inside the front gate, wondering if I had been brought to the wrong place. Marble floors, glass chandeliers, spiraling staircases—it was overwhelming. I kept thinking that it was all jusy a dream and I will wake up at any moment. Even when Lucian led me inside, casually introducing me to the butlers and staff like I belonged there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking through someone else’s life.

   But going back to the topic. 

   Before I could even begin working with Lucian, I had to educate myself, and not just in engineering or programming. No, that would’ve been too easy. Mathematics, magical structures, the finer points of noble customs and etiquette and many, many more. It all became part of my daily grind. As someone who grew up learning how to dodge suspicion at a marketplace, the thought of sitting upright and studying all day was almost laughable.

   More than once, I questioned whether agreeing to Lucian’s arrangement had been a mistake. The sheer volume of information I had to absorb was suffocating. I’d fall asleep at my desk, face pressed against the pages of some impossibly dull book on ancient magical theory.

   Still, whenever I wanted to quit, Lucian was there. He’d show up with a cup of coffee and some offhanded remark that made me grit my teeth and push through. He believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.

   Three years. That’s how long it took for me to be ready.

   By the time I’d finished my education, Lucian had taken over as the head of his family. To celebrate, there was a ball—grand and overwhelming in every sense. The ballroom was dripping in gold and crystal, filled with nobles wearing clothing more expensive than everything I’d ever owned combined. It wasn’t just his night, though. It was mine too. My debut as his assistant.

   At first, it was going well. I was polite, quiet, as graceful as the ridiculous etiquette books told me to be. People greeted me with smiles that never quite reached their eyes, and I smiled back just as politely. But then came the whispers:

   “She’s the orphan, right?”

   “Honestly, it’s a bit ridiculous. From the streets to a noble’s side? What is she, some charity case?”

   “Bet she still smells like the slums.”

   They thought I wouldn’t hear them, but they were wrong of course.

   At first I tried to ignore it. 

   I reeeeeaaally tried. 

   But at one point something inside me snapped. I walked straight over to the group—three men and one woman, all probably around my age but with egos the size of their estates. I didn’t say a word. I just slammed my glass onto the nearest table, grabbed the collar of the loudest one, and decked him right across the jaw.

   He hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

   The others barely had time to react before I swept the woman’s legs from under her and elbowed another guy in the gut. The last one ran away. Smart choice.

   There was silence across the ballroom. Dozens of nobles staring at me in horror while I stood there, fists clenched, breathing heavy, not even bothering to fix the loose strand of hair falling over my face.

   After that night, people started calling me "Iron Maiden". The rumors started to spread that I could kill someone just by looking at them, or that I could beat up a dragon in one-on-one fight. Some of them were even more ridiculous, like for example, that I am a monster who has taken human shape.

   Of course, Lucian wasn’t exactly thrilled about that incident. He pulled me aside once we were back home and let out the biggest sigh I’d ever heard from him. After that he scolded me for around 3-4 hours. Try to imagine sitting seiza for such a long time... it hurts.

   Anyway... Work began shortly after.

   At first, I wasn’t sure how well I’d do. The expectations were high, and the pressure was unrelenting. But once I found my rhythm, everything clicked. Designing machines, solving problems, creating things that actually made people’s lives better—it felt natural. Turns out I had better talent for that than I expected.

   As time went on, my relationship with Lucian changed. We were partners, but it became something more. He wasn’t just my colleague or my boss—he was my anchor. We supported each other, balanced each other out.

   When I turned 25, he proposed to me. I’ll admit, I didn’t see it coming. But it felt right.

   Our wedding was beautiful. I can still remember all the details. But what do I remember the most is the peace that came after. A home. A family… our son.

   It was perfect. I had so much more than I ever thought I deserved…

   …But nothing stays perfect forever.

* * *

   It happened during one of our family dinners.

   The evening had been calm, the kind of ordinary moment you never expect to remember—but somehow, it stays with you. The dining room was softly lit, filled with the quiet clinking of utensils against porcelain. I sat across from Lucian, our son Noah between us, swinging his legs under the table as he happily devoured his meal.

   He’d just turned six and was in that stage where every bite came with a story, his words tumbling out between chews. “And then, the bunny ran around the garden—really fast! I tried to catch him but he was like—” He waved his fork in the air, sending a bit of rice flying. “—whoosh!”

   Lucian chuckled, placing his glass down. “So, the bunny outran the mighty Noah?”

   Noah puffed out his cheeks. “Only this time! Next time, I’ll be faster!”

   I smiled, watching the two of them. These quiet dinners weren’t always filled with deep conversations, but they were warm. Grounding. Moments like this made everything else fade into the background.

   When the plates were cleared, we all said in unison, “Thanks for the meal,” and started to rise.

   That’s when one of the butlers appeared, bowing slightly at the entrance. “Master Lucian, your younger brother has arrived. He says it is urgent.”

   Lucian paused, his smile fading just a little. “Victor?”

   The butler nodded.

   Lucian’s expression tightened—just for a second—before he gave a short nod. “Let him in. We’ll be in the study.”

   Before the conversation could continue, I glanced at the clock and ruffled Noah’s hair. “Alright, little bunny chaser. Bedtime.”

   “Aww… But I wanted to say hi to Uncle Victor.”

   “Next time,” I said, picking him up. “If he stays too long, I’ll make him read you a bedtime story himself.”

   Noah giggled, already half-asleep by the time I tucked him under the blankets. I kissed his forehead and quietly shut the door behind me.

   By the time I returned to the study, Victor was already there—pacing, as usual. He always had a restless energy about him, he had a habbit of coming to our residence with some gifts for Noah. Of course most of his visits were mostly about his new bussiness ideas and asking for financial support. But don't get me wrong. He is not a bad person and Noah likes to spend time with him, so we are always welcoming him here with open arms. 

   But for some reason, tonight something felt different than usually. He didn’t even greet me. His jaw was tight, movements too quick, his eyes sharper than I remembered. There was something beneath the surface, something frayed and volatile.

   We sat down.

   Without wasting time, Victor launched into it.

   He began outlining his latest project, words tumbling out with precise calculation and dangerous enthusiasm. He spoke of gene modification—pushing our biology past natural limits. Unlocking potential never seen before.

   “This isn’t just science,” he said, leaning forward with that fervent gleam in his eye. “It’s the future. Imagine what we could achieve—stronger bodies, sharper minds, the ability to overcome any obstacle. We could change the very course of history.”

   He sounded like a visionary. Or a madman. It was hard to tell the difference in that moment.

   I glanced at Lucian, who remained silent through it all. His fingers were steepled, his gaze fixed on his brother. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t flinch. Just listened. But I knew that stillness—it meant he didn’t like what he was hearing.

   Eventually, Victor finished. The room settled into silence.

   Lucian spoke quietly, but firmly. “No.”

   Victor’s brow furrowed. “No? Just like that? I know that I don't have good luck with bussiness, but this time is dif—”

   “What you’re proposing isn’t evolution—it’s experimentation. You’re talking about using living beings as test subjects. It’s unethical, inhumane. Did you truly believe that I would support something like that?.”

   Victor’s face shifted. The excitement drained, replaced by something colder—darker.

   “Unethical? Inhumane?” he repeated, disbelief tainting his tone. “You don’t see the bigger picture. This isn’t about morals—it’s about progress!”

   “There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed, Victor. This is one of them.”

   Victor’s voice edged toward desperation. “You’re making a mistake. Do you think the world will wait for you to catch up? If we don’t do this, someone else will!”

   “I’ve given you my answer. It’s final.”

   Victor stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the polished floor. He didn’t hide his anger anymore. His fists were clenched tight at his sides, knuckles white.

   “You’ll regret this,” he hissed, venom in every syllable. Then he turned and walked out, the door slamming behind him.

   The room was quiet again.

   Lucian let out a breath and rubbed his temples. “What's gotten into him?” he muttered. “First time I heard him being so desperate.”

   I said nothing, just nodded slowly. But a weight settled in my chest—his words echoed louder in my mind than they should have.

   Something about the way he said it… It didn’t sound like frustration. It sounded like a promise.

   And that’s what unsettled me most of all.

* * *

   The next day, we decided to take a break from work.

   Lucian suggested a trip to the beach. It was rare—almost unheard of—for the three of us to get away together, and the moment he brought it up, I saw Noah’s entire face light up. He bounced on his toes, already rattling off all the things he wanted to do. His excitement was infectious.

   We packed light, just the essentials—towels, snacks, a cooler, sunscreen—and the whole house felt different for a moment. Lighter. Brighter. Like we’d finally carved out a piece of peace just for ourselves. Lucian even laughed more than usual, joking as he tried to squeeze the cooler into the car. Noah kept darting back and forth between the front steps and the car, like he couldn’t wait for the day to begin.

   It was shaping up to be a perfect day.

   Just as we were about to leave, I realized I had forgotten my phone. I laughed, more at myself than anything else, and told them to wait a minute while I ran back inside.

   I remember the feeling. The door closing behind me. My feet tapping lightly across the floor. I remember where the phone was—on the kitchen counter, where I’d left it after checking the weather one last time.

   But before I made it back outside, this happened.

   The explosion tore through the morning with a roar so loud and violent it felt like the world itself had shattered. The windows shook in their frames. The ground trembled beneath my feet. Time seemed to stop for one breathless moment—and then I saw the fire.

   Flames erupted from the driveway, swallowing the car in an instant. A burst of orange and black, followed by a wall of smoke that billowed upward, blotting out the sun.

   I didn’t think. I just ran.

   My legs carried me forward before I even realized I was moving. I stumbled over the doorstep, down the path, toward the wreckage that had been our car. My skin burned from the heat, the searing wave of it biting into my face and arms as I forced myself closer. The stench of gasoline and scorched metal wrapped around me, choking and thick, clawing at my lungs.

   “No...” I couldn't believe what was happening. “Noah! Lucian! No!”

   There was nothing left but a twisted heap of metal and flame. Glass shattered across the driveway. Parts of the engine smoldered, unrecognizable. And somewhere in that mess—within the heart of the fire—I saw them.

   Or what was left of them.

   I barely recognized the shapes, burned and blackened. There was no movement. No sound. Just the crackling of fire and the sharp hiss of heat devouring everything it touched.

   I couldn’t breathe. My legs gave out beneath me, and I dropped to my knees on the pavement, my hands trembling, my face soaked in tears. My screams didn’t stop. They kept pouring out, wild and broken, as the weight of it crashed down on me.

   The air was thick with smoke, but all I could feel was the hollowness in my chest. The emptiness where they had been. The silence that followed was louder than the explosion.

   And in that moment, everything was gone. My family. My world. Burned to ash in the blink of an eye.