Chapter 2 - First Encounter and Fiery Confrontation

In the rain-soaked dawn, Selena quietly pushed open the creaking door of a worn-down tavern and stepped out like a mere shadow. Her cloak was drenched, and her weary, sleepless eyes were tinged with a deep crimson hue. Three years had passed since her exile, leaving faint marks of time on her face, yet her hardened expression and sharp presence had only grown more intense.

Despite the world being asleep, the darkness had become her closest ally. Since the day she was cast out, stripped of noble status, she had never once lived under the protection of privilege. Instead, she wandered the back alleys and shadowy corners of the lower class, taking odd jobs at taverns, scrubbing down gambling dens, and doing whatever it took to survive. There was no place that welcomed her, but survival meant throwing herself into whatever she could. And through it all, she endured—because she had a purpose.

Three years ago, she had been accused of murdering her father and exiled from eastern noble society. Overnight, her world had crumbled, leaving only ruins. But she could never forget the final image of her father, dying without knowing the truth. The humiliation of watching her family's honor trampled upon had pushed her into the thorn-laden path she now walked. With the 'Blood Requiem' dagger at her side, she took each step toward vengeance.

And now, rumors had reached her ears.

—"It's been three years since the fall of House Blanchard, yet Selena has returned alive." —"They say she's searching for something—something that could shake the entire noble society once more."

The aristocrats still feared her. They had thought of her as nothing more than a disgraced outcast, a criminal with no protection. But now, she had resurfaced. And if she wasn't eliminated completely, she might one day become a threat. Meanwhile, whispers suggested that she had been seeking lost fragments of truth—clues left scattered in the wake of her family's downfall.

Selena found these rumors amusing. Suspicion was always better than indifference. If her enemies trapped themselves in their own paranoia, it would only make her revenge all the more decisive when the time came. Her father's final breath, his whispered words—"You… are not…"—burned within her, strengthening her resolve with every heartbeat.

"They're finally preparing to get rid of me for good."

She tilted her head back, gazing at the rain-laden sky. Cold droplets trailed down her shoulders, soaking into her very bones. She could sense it—an inevitable, decisive confrontation was drawing near. There was no room for hesitation.

Meanwhile, at a grand mansion hosting an extravagant noble gathering, an entirely different atmosphere unfolded. Chandeliers spilled golden light across the vast ballroom, casting flickering shadows against the walls as hundreds of candles glowed softly. Music drifted through the air, and nobles clad in elaborate gowns and adorned with dazzling jewels wandered about, feigning effortless elegance.

Yet among them, one figure stood out unmistakably—Leon Blackwood, heir to the powerful House Blackwood. His dark ebony hair was neatly swept back, and he moved with effortless grace through the ballroom. The mere sight of him made other nobles straighten their backs in unconscious respect. Known as the "Strongest in Noble Society," Leon Blackwood possessed more than just stunning looks—he wielded real power and an intimidating charisma. With a reputation as a master swordsman, he was feared as someone who would never retreat, no matter the opponent.

"Lord Blackwood, you shine as always tonight." "Good evening, Sir Leon. I hear the political climate has been rather tense as of late…"

Nobles approached him with cautious politeness, but Leon merely responded with an enigmatic smile or a dismissive nod. He never needed to assert dominance; his presence alone dictated the pace of conversation. He carried no visible guards or attendants, yet the way he commanded the room made it clear—he needed no protection.

And amidst the glittering spectacle, a hidden pair of eyes watched him closely. Selena Blanchard, disguised among the crowd, concealed her identity beneath a modest dress adorned with tiny floral patterns and delicate embellishments. She looked like a mere servant or a masked dancer, blending seamlessly into the backdrop of the opulent event.

'Leon Blackwood… The so-called strongest noble. I had only heard of him three years ago.'

From behind a thick velvet curtain, she observed him carefully. Through various clandestine channels, she had gathered information pointing to his possible involvement in the conspiracy that had destroyed her family. More than that, she vividly recalled his intervention in her trial three years prior—the moment he suggested exile instead of execution. 'Was it mere curiosity, or did he already know something?'

The ballroom swarmed with masked figures and veiled noblewomen, their whispers weaving secret deals in the dim candlelight. Servants drifted through the room with silver trays of wine, while hidden transactions of corruption took place in murmured exchanges. This was the battlefield of aristocrats—the place where power, betrayal, and ambition danced together in a treacherous waltz.

Steeling herself, Selena seized an opportunity and slipped down a dimly lit staircase to the side of the hall. Here, amidst the grand decorations, the shadows grew deeper, wrapping around her like a cloak. The laughter of oblivious nobles echoed behind her, but in her ears, they faded into meaningless noise.

Then, suddenly, a deep, resonant voice broke the silence behind her.

"I thought you were dead. To see a ghost walk among us is quite the surprise."

Familiar, yet never before encountered in person. A shiver ran down her spine before she even turned around. Slowly, she faced him.

Leon Blackwood stood before her, holding a wine glass in his hand, his smile sharp as a blade. His eyes lacked warmth, and though his words were laced with amusement, there was an underlying edge to them.

"The last time you saw me, you might have thought I was a dying woman," Selena said, her voice calm yet laced with defiance. "But as you can see, I am very much alive."

She clenched her fists at the bitter memories. This was the man who had overturned her fate in a single sentence at the trial. Now, she needed to see what lay behind his polished facade.

After a moment's pause, Leon's voice lowered. "A dead woman returning means unfinished business. Or perhaps, an attachment too strong to let go."

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" Selena countered. "After all, I've been wondering why you spared me."

Their words were laced with blades, every sentence a calculated maneuver. It was a verbal duel where the slightest misstep could be fatal. Leon, appearing amused, took a slow sip of wine. The candlelight flickered across his dark hair, casting a shadow over his piercing gaze. The other nobles, sensing the weight of their exchange, kept their distance.

"I can already guess why you've come here," Leon mused. "You think I hold some kind of secret, don't you? Or perhaps, you believe I'm hunting you, yet you walked right into my den."

"What I seek is not you, but the truth you might hold."

Neither of them stated their true intentions outright, but they instinctively knew—they were both treading dangerous ground. Selena tried to maintain her composure, but her heart pounded against her ribs. Leon Blackwood's presence was even more formidable than she had imagined.

"If I do hold what you seek," Leon said smoothly, "don't expect me to give it up so easily."

"Then I'll take it myself."

The tension crackled between them like a live wire, their conflict simmering beneath the surface. Leon smirked and gently reached out, tilting her chin up.

"Let's see how far you'll go, then."

Selena didn't flinch. Her resolve burned too hot for that.

This was just the beginning of their perilous game.