Fragments of a Tragic Tale

That night, the children slept deeply, exhaustion pulling them into a dreamless slumber. Their small bodies, now clean and free from filth, huddled together under the warm blankets. For the first time in a long while, they looked peaceful.

But Seraphina was already awake.

She sat by the window, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the slow rise of the sun.

She finally stood up, stretching her sore limbs, and left the room.

Yet the moment she stepped outside, the silence shattered.

The entire guild was in a frenzy. Workers rushed about, voices clashing in the air, urgent commands being yelled across the hall.

Seraphina frowned. 'What's going on?'

She spotted Chloe frantically ordering the guild workers, running from one place to another. Seraphina approached her.

"Why is there such a commotion?"

Chloe turned, but before she could answer, Julian emerged from a room, followed by a tall man.

The stranger had fox-like black eyes, sharp and calculating, and slicked-back blue hair that gleamed under the hallway lights. His presence exuded a certain craftiness, a sense that he saw more than he let on.

Julian noticed Seraphina and smirked, gesturing toward the man. "Seraphina, meet Gideon Marquet. A very close friend of mine."

Then he turned to Gideon. "And this is the child I was telling you about. She's incredibly talented."

Gideon's piercing gaze lingered on her, his interest unmistakable. "Nice to meet you, young lady."

Seraphina bowed slightly. "The pleasure is all mine."

The introductions didn't last long. Julian and Gideon disappeared into another room, and Chloe, still overwhelmed with tasks, went back to work.

Seraphina, however, felt uneasy.

As she stepped outside, taking a deep breath, she muttered, "Gideon Marquet… what a name… sounds just like a novel character."

She let out a short laugh—but then she froze.

Her breath hitched.

A name. Lucian Blackwood.

A feeling of dread slithered down her spine.

'No… wait. I read a novel—a messy, complicated one… and there was a character named Gideon Marquet…'

Her hands clenched. Gideon Marquet—he was the true, loyal servant of the villain.

And the villain's name was—

Lucian Blackwood.

Her chest tightened. No. No way. It's just a coincidence.

But another memory surfaced.

The merchant guild… the guild master's name in the novel… was Julian.

Her stomach dropped.

Julian Ashford. The same Julian Ashford who was a cunning capitalist, a strategist, someone who played both sides but ultimately supported Lucian.

She swallowed.

And Gideon?

Gideon wielded form-based magic, capable of conjuring weapons of all kinds. But he specialized in twin swords, using them to mercilessly cut down anyone who threatened Lucian.

Gideon Marquet, Lucian Blackwood, Julian Ashford…

Her legs felt weak. I'm in that novel.

A sharp ringing filled her ears.

She struggled to breathe.

'I—

I am inside that tragic novel.

The worst, most heart-wrenching tragedy I've ever read.'

She clutched her head as panic clawed at her. No. No. NO.

Why couldn't she remember more?

The more she tried, the more her mind became blank.

What happens next? Who else is involved? How does it end?

Nothing.

It was as if the memories were there, just beyond her reach, teasing her, mocking her.

A cold sweat ran down her back. No, this can't be happening!

She turned and ran, her feet slamming against the wooden floor as she bolted up the stairs. She didn't stop until she reached the rooftop, where the cold evening wind howled against her skin.

She staggered forward, gripping her temples.

Her breathing was erratic. "The moment I thought I was out of the biggest problem, another crisis emerges!!"

Her voice cracked as she let out a desperate scream. "This fucking piece of shit!!"

Her entire body trembled.

This wasn't some fantasy.

This was her reality.

'But why? Why can't I remember?!'

She forced herself to think.

'I read somewhere that humans never truly forget anything. The memories are there, buried deep, waiting to be recalled.'

Her fingers dug into her scalp.

Then she had to force them out.

Her magic could control minds—what if she used it on herself?

It was a reckless, dangerous idea.

But Seraphina had never been one to play it safe.

She sat down, her hands shaking, her breath ragged.

Closing her eyes, she began directing her mana toward her brain.

A sharp, searing pain lanced through her skull.

She gasped, nearly falling over.

Again.

The pain intensified, like shards of glass piercing her mind.

Again.

Her vision blurred, white-hot agony flooding her senses.

AGAIN.

She couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop.

Her entire body shuddered, sweat pouring down her skin. I have to know.

Her mana surged wildly, clawing at something deep within her.

And then—

A flicker.

A shadow of a memory.

Seraphina's breath caught. 'I saw something.'

Another flicker.

She gasped.

A dimly lit room… pages turning… the night she read that novel.

Then—

Her lips moved on her own...

"…Lucian Blackwood's end is inevitable."

Her eyes widened.

Her heart pounded.

And then—the memories came crashing down.