Kill the fake, Alya

Soren's eye twitched as he watched Alya finish the apple with visible delight. She even fed the leftover bits to the birds sitting around her, some perched on her shoulders and even her head.

Soren scoffed. No wonder everyone thought Aileen was the true saintess if Alya acted like this in the temple, he thought.

That night, they camped in the forest. Alya refused to step out of the carriage, so Soren had to bring her food.

"What is this?" Alya asked, frowning at the bowl.

"It's soup," Soren replied, already tired.

"But there are weird things floating inside," she said, poking it with the spoon.

Soren leaned over and inspected the contents. His eye twitched when he realized what she meant.

"It's just meat."

"Oh... I don't eat meat. Take it away and bring me something else," Alya said with a blank expression.

"You want something else? This is all we have. Just drink the broth and leave the meat behind," he said, trying to be patient.

"I'm not eating it. So either bring me something else or take this away," she insisted.

Soren held back his frustration. Their food supply was limited and mostly included meat. Without saying more, he placed the bowl beside her and stepped out of the carriage, hoping she'd give in and eat once he left.

But no sooner had he walked away than the bowl flew out of the carriage window and splashed all over a passing knight.

The knight yelped, now soaked and picking pieces of meat from his hair. Soren spun around in disbelief.

Alya was smiling—genuinely amused. She even let out a soft laugh before calmly shutting the window.

Soren clenched his fists. Is she really the true saintess? For a moment, he doubted everything. Maybe the gods made a mistake.

But even with all her strange behavior, something inside him still told him she was the real one.

Fine. If she wanted to act like this, then she'd get no food tonight. Let her go hungry. Maybe she'd come around by morning.

He turned and walked away.

---

Back in the capital, Aileen walked through the dark streets alone, her cloak pulled tightly around her. She kept her head low until she reached a quiet bar. She pushed open the door and walked straight to the counter.

"I'm here to see the Viper. He's expecting me," she whispered.

The bartender blinked, caught off guard. The Viper? That was the name of the capital's most feared assassination group. And this young girl wanted to meet them?

He nodded and led her to a hidden room, then left without a word.

Inside, a man sat casually on a chair, also dressed in a dark cloak.

"Welcome, Saintess," he said, his voice calm.

Aileen froze. How did he know who she was?

"I heard you're the best," she said, pulling down her hood. There was no point hiding anymore.

"Let me guess," the man said, leaning forward slightly. "You want me to kill the fake, Alya."

Aileen nodded. "Yes. I'll pay whatever you ask. Can you do it?"

The man smiled, cold and cruel.

"Consider it done."

---

The next morning, they rose early to continue the journey north. Soren stepped into the carriage to check on Alya, hoping she'd finally be more obedient. But to his surprise, the carriage was empty.

His heart dropped.

There had been guards posted during the night. So how could she be gone? Had she been kidnapped? Then again, if someone tried to hurt her, she wouldn't have fought back. She wouldn't even care.

Panic began to rise in his chest. She couldn't die, not now. If she died, the world would fall apart.

He forced himself to breathe. The sun was still yellow. That meant Alya was still alive.

Soren rushed to gather the knights.

"Spread out and find the Saintess," he ordered.

The knights looked hesitant. In their eyes, Alya was the 'fake' one. Why should they bother? She had never respected them anyway.

"I said find her! Are you deaf?" Soren barked.

Startled, the knights quickly moved into the forest. Soren picked a different direction and ran off to search on his own.

After some time, he heard it... soft, beautiful singing.

He followed the voice, and it led him to a quiet clearing. There, under the wide shade of a tree, sat Alya.

She was surrounded by animals—birds, deer, leopards, even snakes. She gently petted the leopard beside her as she continued to sing. The song was an ancient temple hymn, its language long forgotten. No one knew the words anymore, only that it was filled with the names of gods and told the story of creation.

In that moment, she truly looked like a saintess. No, something more. Something divine. A being so peaceful and strange that even wild animals were drawn to her.

Soren stepped forward, but the moment he did, the leopard, wolves, and other animals growled at him.

"It seems I must leave now, my friends," Alya said softly. She rose to her feet with quiet grace. The animals looked sad to see her go. A wolf even bit onto her white robe, not wanting to let her leave.

She smiled kindly and stroked its head.

Soren watched her, amazed. Was this really the same girl who laughed after throwing soup on a knight?

The wolf let go after a bit of coaxing, and Alya walked back toward camp. Soren caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

"You… How could you just disappear without telling anyone? Do you know how worried everyone was?" he scolded.

Alya only looked amused. Her usual calm smile was on her face, and she stared at him like he was some funny animal.

"First," she said gently, "I don't like being touched. Second, I'll do whatever I want, whenever I want. If you don't like it... kill me."

She said it with a kind, confident smile.

And Soren realized, she wasn't afraid. She knew he needed her. Not just alive, but for her power. 

She wasn't afraid of being killed. That's what gave her power. And she made sure Soren knew it.

"Did you forget I have your beloved nanny?" Soren threatened, his voice low and cold.

He had learned many things across his regressions, but one truth remained constant—Alya's heart beat only for one person: her nanny. That woman had been her anchor, her comfort, her shield from the world. That was why, in every lifetime, Alya gave her holy robes to the nanny. To protect her. Always to protect her.

But this time, Alya only laughed.

It was not a joyful sound, but a brittle, cruel thing.

"Go on, then. Hurt her," she said, her smile warm, her tone terrifying. "But remember, whatever you do to my nanny… I will return a hundredfold. On your beloved North. And on your sweet little lover."

Soren stiffened. Their eyes locked, hers gleaming with cold delight, his burning with frustration. He could see it in her. The certainty. She wasn't bluffing. If she wanted to, she could drag the North into ruin and never blink.

It wasn't Aileen he was worried about. It was everything else.

Grinding his teeth, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to the carriage. He shoved her inside, hard enough to make her stumble. Without another word, he mounted his horse and rode beside the carriage, refusing to sit near her again.

They didn't stop to rest, not even once.

Two days later, they reached the Northern Territory, the land he ruled, the place he was supposed to keep safe.

As he dismounted and turned to the carriage, John, his longtime butler, came sprinting toward him.

"My lord, you're needed at the wall," John said, panting.

"Is it urgent?" Soren asked.

"Yes. They told me to notify you the second you arrived."

Soren sighed, wiping a hand down his face. He looked back at the carriage, at the shadow sitting silently inside.

"I'll go now. Jeffrey," he called out to the man standing nearby, "help her settle in. Give her a proper room. And make sure every single one of her ridiculous demands is met. All of them."

Jeffrey looked horrified. He glanced at the carriage like it housed a cursed beast.

But he nodded stiffly and turned toward the door.

The knights and servants who had gathered to witness the return kept their distance. They whispered among themselves, casting wary glances at the woman they didn't believe was a saint. No one saw a savior. Only a girl with too many smiles and too little mercy.

Alya stepped down gracefully, a faint smile on her lips like she was amused by all of them.

"Well, you heard your master," she said sweetly. "Lead me to my room. I've got a list of outrageous requests that simply cannot wait."

Jeffrey said nothing. He turned without a word and walked off. Alya followed, humming softly to herself.

Minutes later, she stood alone in a quiet, forgotten wing of the Duke's estate. Jeffrey had left her without even bothering to say goodbye. The corridor was dusty, the air stale, and the silence loud.

She let out a breath and smiled. Of course. She hadn't expected obedience.

She wandered through the empty halls, peeking into rooms one by one. Some were too small. Some smelled of mold. Others felt...wrong.

Eventually, she found herself on the second floor, walking past faded paintings and cracked furniture. An old woman was in the hallway, slowly dusting a vase with hands that trembled.

At first, Alya didn't pay her any mind. But then, she paused.

Something about the woman pulled at her. A scent. A posture. A feeling.

She turned back.

The woman was thin, her back hunched. Her hair was silver, knotted tightly in a bun. Her hands moved with care, but her body looked fragile enough to break.

Alya stepped closer.

"Nanny?" she said softly.

The old woman turned.

The moment her eyes met Alya's, she froze.

Then, her face crumpled, her knees gave out, and she collapsed.

Alya lunged forward, catching her before she hit the floor.

She held her tightly, cradling her like something sacred.