She was able to walk out of her room without any questions after she met with the Crown Prince. She would have liked to get outside using the main entrance, but the public could not recognise her. So she walked to the garden, where she hid in a corner and put her three hoops necklace over the sun pendant, making the extra layer of Dead Mana even more uncomfortable and stuffy.

But she was walking to the inn where the 10 Wolf Children were. She knew Lock was not yet out of the Kingdom; maybe he was with his siblings, but she had no way of knowing. 

Scent of Grapes.

She thought it was a stupid name, but she walked in anyway.

When she opened the door to the children, they stared at her in confusion. They never saw this pale person before, why was she looking at them so expectantly?

Adara realised what was wrong. "Oh, give me a second." She took the necklace off her neck, putting it in her chest pocket. Because she stacked the two necklaces on top of each other when she took the three hoops necklace off, her Southerner appearance stayed.

The children recognised her now, standing up and running to her, hugging her so excitedly as if she were their older sister.

They even started calling her Noona and Unnie, no more nice 'Young Mistress's' like the last time she came over. Lock apparently told them a few things about her that made them react like this.

Adara was feeling a bit overwhelmed, but she hesitantly patted a few of their heads. Maes, the second-oldest of the children, was watching from a bit further, seemingly amused.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing all the way there? Come give your Noona a hug."

Maes giggled, joining in the group of children now hugging her. This reaction was... unexpected. But somewhat unwelcome, though she entertained them.

Someone came down the stairs. It was Odeus, Adara knew. He must have been confused about the commotion they were causing. But when he arrived at the foot of the stairs, he froze as he saw who was standing there.

Adara Thornwin.

And without Cale Henituse.

He had been hoping he wouldn't see any of them— more importantly, Adara— for a while since they were injured because of their involvement in saving the citizens in the Plaza Terror Incident.

But she looked to be in perfect health as she stood there, telling the children she was still injured but recovering.

He watched her smile at the children with narrow eyes. Maybe not in perfect health; she looked very tired, and she had this slight swaying motion to her.

Maybe it wasn't a lie that they were injured.

But why was she here now? Last time— last time they met, she told him they needed to have a drink soon. He suddenly became nervous. Why am I nervous? She is probably as nice and generous as the recent rumours say she is. After all, she coughed up blood to protect the citizens. It says nothing about her that her head is on the Underworld.

He looked again at the Young Mistress who was patting all the children's heads, reassuring them that her injuries weren't grave and she wouldn't die because of them. She looked quite nice as she smiled at them.

But then she looked up at him with such casualty as if she knew he was there all along. Then she smiled, the same smile she smiled when she told him they should have a drink soon. A viciously sly smile.

A shiver ran down his back then, and it did now as well. He didn't know who he was fooling, saying that she was nice, but it was certainly not himself.

"Now, children, I need to talk to Odeus for a few minutes, I'll see you guys soon," she spoke with a calm smile.

The children nodded understandingly, giving her space. Adara handed Maes a bag of pastries she picked up on her way here. "Share them among yourselves, I hope I got the flavours you liked."

The children focused more on the bag of pastries than on her when she looked at Odeus with a look on her face quite unlike one the children had seen previously.

Odeus didn't say a word to her, only walked up those steps. He knew she would follow him. He didn't dare look back.

And then they were in that room. The same one where Adara drank a toast with Billos to the best contender. She sat down on her chair as if she owned the whole inn, staring at Odeus expectingly.

"What do you want?" Odeus asked, still standing.

Aadar frowned. "How rude, you're not even offering a glass of wine."

Odeus deadpanned. "It's barely past noon."

"And?"

Odeus sighed, getting a single glass and a bottle of wine. He set the glass in front of her, pouring it full.

He sat down on the chair across from her, watching with narrowed eyes as she swirled around the wine and took a sip. "Mhm, North-Western wine is not that bad."

She wasn't smiling, but he could still picture her viciously sly smile in front of him.

He's woken up several times, images of that smile ingrained in his mind. Having dealt with the Underworld time and time again has made his thoughts vicious. He would rethink all the possible things she could mean by that sentence, wondering if she planned to kill him or torture him. Not a single thought of his involved actually drinking.

She leaned into her seat, crossing her leg over the other, turning to stare at Odeus. "I haven't come here to give the children pastries from a bakery so close they could have bought it themselves," she said, no emotion on her face. "Do you remember our last conversation?"

Odeus nodded, swallowing thickly. "I do."

Adara took a sip of the wine again. "I said we should have a drink sometime soon. Though I am the only one drinking, and it is quite a bit later than 'soon', I am here, and I need to discuss something with you."

Odeus did his best to pretend not to know what she might be hinting at. "With me? Is it about the children?"

Adara shook her head, not impressed with his attempt to be innocent. "No. It's about my head."

Odeus's eyes turned cold. His suspicions had been right then, she did know who he was. "So, you know."

Adara smiled slightly. "I knew since the moment I shook your hand. But that's not important right now."

Odeus caught on. "You want your head off the Underworld."

She took a sip of her wine. "Yes."

Odeus frowned. "You are surely aware I can't do it alone."

"I am aware."

Odeus frowned even further. "Who else did you drag into this?"

Adara lifted her glass to her lips. "The Quillens." She took her sip, observing the person across from her.

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "The Quillens?" But then he gathered himself. "What do you have to offer?"

She was glad he gathered himself and got straight to the point; it would do no good if he went on and on about the fact it was the Quillen Family. She set the glass on the table, making Odeus flinch. "I have two things to offer. The first; a business opportunity with the Quillens. If you both like the way the other works, you might have many business profits together if you continue to work together in the future."

Odeus was not impressed. "The second?"

Adara took a coin from her chest pocket. Odeus felt himself freeze as she put the coin on the table. The coin had the Crossman Royal Crest on it.

She had a Golden Plaque.

"Would you say the price of my head is okay?" she asked, taking the glass from the table and sipping it.

"1.5 times your head."

"Deal," Adara said. She took a paper from her chest pocket. "Ask a mage to connect you and show them this paper. It will connect you to one of my subordinates, who will then connect you to the Quillen Family, most likely the Mother. I heard she is usually the one who discusses issues like these. The Father quite likes gardening."

She downed the wine, drinking the rest of it in one go. "I will ask Billos— someone both of us trust— to issue the bill." Standing up, she pushed the chair in. "It will arrive in a day or so, so rest assured."

Odeus stayed seated, watching her make her way to the door. But as she put her hand on the handle, she turned to look at him one last time, that nightmarish smile on her face. "The wine was delicious, though Henituse wine is better."

She was back in her room, writing a letter to Billos. It was almost nightfall now. The letter was taking longer than usual to write since the words kept blurring and her headache was increasing.

She heard the maid's footsteps walk to their door.

She sighed. Were they coming to check up on them again? She should have told the Crown Prince earlier today that another thing she needed from him was for the maids to stop monitoring them.

 The maid opened the door. "Young Mistress?" she asked, peeking her head in the door.

"Yes?" Adara responded, looking up. The tone of the maid's voice was off, like she had something for her.

"I have a letter for you," she said, walking towards her to place the envelope on the desk.

"Thank you," Adara said, dismissing her. She yawned as she opened the letter. It was from Doctor Emery, the doctor who was taking care of Priest Charlie.

She straightened her back as she continued reading. In the letter, it was written that her dad was healing. He had finished one stage of the medicine and was able to leave his bed, though not for too long. But he was not yet allowed to return to his priest duties. Doctor Emery wrote that he was going to start the second stage now that he has been stable for a couple days.

Adara stared at the words, feeling happy that he was getting better. If he was able to get out of bed, that meant she could take him to the garden.

She was going to go to bed early tonight, but because of this development she would need to go out to see her dad. She hadn't seen him since before the Plaza Terror Incident, and she was sure he heard multiple rumours about her being gravely injured. She would need to stay awake for a few more hours until the sun fully set.

She yawned again, hating that she couldn't sleep well. If only I got addicted to Milk of the Poppy, she thought. She understood why her dad didn't let her have a glass. It was his care for her that made him prevent any addiction to the Milk of the Poppy. She wondered what he would say when he heard that she was an alcoholic. She wondered if he would care about that.

Care...

Care.

She felt a sudden anger at the word. She wanted to rip up the letter in her hands. The proof of her care for him.

 Her care.

Her hands tightened around the paper, creases appearing in it. But she forced herself to breathe. She forced herself to push the letter until it was out of her sight.

She stared at her hands, the ones that had held the letter now crumpled and on the floor. On that long night. When she saw her d— Priest Charlie for the first time in 4 years. She saw how frail he was, how his movements were slow and rigid.

These hands did not touch him, she thought, staring at them. Why not? Was I afraid? Of ill people? That can't be it.

She gave up thinking.

Her hands felt icky. As if she needed to scrub them. She had touched that letter. The letter that she demanded he send so she could see his progress. Because she cared.

That sentence seemed to be a cruel mockery directed at her.

"Are you okay?"

It was Cale. He was on the bed; his book, a retelling of a myth or the other, was next to him, seemingly abandoned. She looked at him, not realising she dug her nails so hard into her palm that she drew blood. She uncurled her hand, placing it flat onto the table.

The blood from the wounds that were still healing got smeared across the letter she was going to send to Billos.

She could lie to Cale. She could smile and say she was fine. He would not ask again.

But this was Cale— no. This was Kim Rok Soo.

And he cared for her.

"No," she answered him. "I don't think I am. I think I want too many things that are not possible."

Cale was not expecting an honest answer. He expected her to smile and wave it off. He would not have asked again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She stood up from her chair, moving to sit on the edge of his— their bed. She kept her hands spread out on her knees, she didn't want to make another wound. "I guess I should."

Cale didn't respond, he simply let her talk. He watched Adara try and find the right words.

"I want to sleep," she said after a moment. "Well. I want to sleep well for once. I just want a good dream. One I don't remember in the morning, but one that leaves me content for the rest of the morning at the though of the vague moments I do remember. I want to be well-rested. Even with the Vitality of the Heart, I cannot sleep and not feel dead the next day."

In a conversation like this, Cale would have expected her to block him out. To look away from him, her body language away from him, her face distant. But she was facing him fully, her eyes on his, and her face so crestfallen, a slight hope in the corner of her eyes, as she spoke that he couldn't help but feel that pang in his chest.

"And I want to be able to accept care," she continued. "I want to just make myself believe that they can care about me without second-guessing if they have ulterior motives. Count Deruth, Countess Violan, Basen, Lily, you. I know I've only been able to get so far because I don't care, but sometimes I truly wish to be able to trust blindly."

She laughed dryly. "It sounds stupid, but I would rather get hurt multiple times because I care too much than doubt the ones who actually care."

Cale wanted to interject, wanted to tell her it wasn't stupid. But he didn't, because she was finally talking to him and he wasn't going to interrupt.

"I cannot care now because of what happened all those years ago— because of what has been happening since all those years ago. I cannot trust because the scars I got from all those years ago are still visible, and they will never go away."

Adara felt her shoulders get less heavy as she stared into those brown eyes she loved, her eyes never leaving his. "I just want to let go. Not of the person I used to be, but the way I compare myself to her. I've demonised her in my mind, making her some unattainable ideal that I can never achieve because I don't feel anything when I take someone's life. I've put her on a pedestal so high, I lost sight of what I was comparing myself to.

"I want to be able to care like her. To be able to trust like her. I want to see the world through her kind eyes, full of childish happiness and dumb optimism. But I don't need to. Because I am not imperfect because I am not her. I am not ruined because of my scars."

She swallowed, the revelation coming to her. She understood what that dream meant now. "I am Adara Thornwin." The dream with the child. "And I will always be Adara Thornwin until the day I die. And when I do, I hope there are people around me who know I care about them. And people who I know care about me."

A tear slowly rolled over her cheek.

She felt warm hands on her face, wiping away her tear. "Then, let us care for you," Cale said, his voice soft.

She stared at him for a moment before engulfing him in a hug.

She decided to go out and meet with Priest Charlie. He always showed her... care. So, visiting him, sitting in the garden with him, surrounded by the sleepy smell of the Night Poppies, was all she wished at the moment.

She decided she was going to try and let herself be cared for, to slowly get used to it. And who better to go to if not her dad?

She walked along, watching the taverns along the side of the street. She wasn't jealous of their happiness this time; she was going to be happy with her dad. She didn't need to be jealous.

She felt very relieved right now, her shoulders felt very light.

She continued walking, watching the moonlight bounce off the buildings. She could see the imposing towers of the Temple of Death from here, and they seemed to glitter in the moonlight.

But, as she walked, she felt a nagging feeling in her shoulder.

Surely not another assassin, she thought, annoyed. I'm not in the mood— She sensed mana fluctuations.

Thump.

Someone just landed behind her. Someone just teleported behind her.

I'm not in the mood to get choked either, she thought, continuing on walking without caring about whoever just teleported behind her. I just want to go to my dad.

But then she bumped into a one-layer shield of mana. The shield was a big bubble around her and this other person. And there was a noise cancellation spell placed over it.

Fuck, she thought. I didn't bring a dagger. She looked around without looking behind her. There were a couple people around her. She doubted whoever was behind her was planning on killing her in such a public place.

"Adara Thornwin," the person greeted, his voice a certain degree of fake and smooth. "Lovely night, is it not?"

She still did not turn around. "I think you have the wrong person."

The bigger problem was that this person knew who she was even while she was in disguise. That means they were either aware of the fact she was Half-Dark Elf, or they had some other means of knowing who she was.

The person behind her laughed without humour. "That might have worked on Darius, but it won't work on me." 

She turned around, facing the person who trapped her in this bubble. "That was his name, then? You should keep a better leash on your rabid dog, he almost choked the life out of me."

The person across from her had a much more interesting face than Darius had. Darius was punchable and plain. But this person had rusty brown hair and blue eyes. Adara would have described him as handsome if he was in any other outfit than the one with 5 red stars and the white star. The black outfit did not bring out his eyes.

And then he looked at her apologetically. "Yes," he agreed. The fake tone to his voice was still there, but now it was more sorry. "After that incident, we realised that Darius was not fit to be upfront and talking with people." This person took a step closer to her. "He was too rambunctious and often did not follow orders."

Adara decided to be petty. "Like the time when he spent the entire time complaining and then choked me? He was about to punch my face as well."

The Secret Organisation member smiled apologetically at her. "Yes, like that time."

He's not too shabby an actor, Adara thought, watching his face. But he uses the apologetic look a bit too often, it won't make me think he's sorry if he shows it multiple times. "Imagine how much outrage there would have been for a Noble to get punched in the face," she continued talking. "You better be glad he didn't actually do it."

The Secret Organisation member seemed to be a bit done with her pettiness at this point. "Yes, we are very glad."

Adara stared at him with a levelling stare. "And what did you do to poor Darius? Did you place him somewhere else? Where he wouldn't be talking to people?"

The Secret Organisation member smiled again. He seemed to smile a lot. "Not quite."

"You killed him."

The Secret Organisation member watched her with his hawk-like eyes. "Does that bother you?" It bothers me, he thought, not daring to speak the words.

Adara shook her head. "No, I only wish I was the one to do it," she lied. She didn't care about Darius enough to want him dead, but she did want to be petty. And she wanted to see the reaction of this Secret Organisation member, for he tensed ever so slightly when she accused him of killing Darius.

And she was right, for the Secret Organisation member shivered though he tried to hide it. 

The Secret Organisation member narrowed his eyes when he noticed Adara staring at him so indifferently. She is truly terrifying, he thought. Darius's assessment was correct; we do need her. A certain line from the assessment he wrote before Darius was disposed of stuck out to him: 'She can glare daggers without any emotion on her face, silently staring down without so much as a narrowing of the eyes.'

Sometimes, he thought Darius should have been a poet, but then that probably would have never worked out with his personality.

But the way she casually spoke about wishing to kill Darius... he trailed off. It took a lot to kill. To be able to take someone's life with your own hands. He could not do it. And neither could Darius, despite how often he would threaten and beat up others.

But this prim and proper Noble, who has probably never known the feeling of starving for so long, you eat dirt and flowers. This disguised Noble, who looked so innocent and pretty without her scars, who had not lived in the dirtiest slums for her whole life. This Noble could talk so casually about taking someone's life while he got sick, even looking at a corpse.

It left a muddy taste in his mouth.

"His name was Darius," Adara repeated. "Hmm." She turned to him. "What's your name?"

The Secret Organisation member swallowed the earthy taste, putting on a smile as he opened his mouth to respond with his name.

But Adara was thinking hard. The Secret Organisation member, the Som, the Sam. Sam. "Never mind," she said, interrupting him before he spoke. "You look like a Sam."

Sam raised his eyebrows, but he did not protest. His instructions were to give a good impression on her, and if that meant he would be renamed for a few minutes, who was he to protest? After all, there were worse names than Sam.

"So, Sam," she started, getting his attention again. "How did you know it was me?" From her chest pocket, she pulled out her gold watch. "I thought this little trinket I bought from the mage was enough to hide my appearance."

Sam smiled again. Ah, so that's how she hid her appearance. "We doubt a lot of people scale the Palace walls to escape out the garden. There was very little confusion about who that pale person might be."

Adara smiled as well. He just told her that they have no idea that she's Half-Dark Elf, and that they have people watching the Palace for people that look like her. She only hoped that he wouldn't notice her little trick. "I see those people are more reliable than our cold, little Darius ever was."

Sam tried his best not to flinch. Darius should have written a poetry line about how contradicting she is. She is a Noble, looking pretty and proper at all times, with a soft look to her face without her scars, but then she says something so sharp and harsh like that. It gave him whiplash.

"Sam," she spoke again. "Darius used me as an anger relief toy. And to say I did not enjoy getting choked is an understatement. So, Sam, what do you want? Are you going to complain as well? Because if this is going to be a recurring thing, then I think there should be a fee."

Sam smiled gently, ignoring how often she brought up Darius. "No, I am here with a proposition."

Adara raised an eyebrow, though she had an idea about what he was going to ask. "Go on."

"Do you know about our Organisation?" Sam asked her.

Adara stared at him for a moment. "I recognise your outfits."

Eh, good enough, Sam thought, smiling again. "My proposition is for you to join us."

"What is the nature of this Organisation of yours?" Adara asked with indifference, ignoring how her chest felt hollow.

Sam blinked. He expected her to flat-out say no. Her predicted response based on the intel from the spies determined that she would refuse without any questions asked. Why is she asking questions? What went amiss in the calculations? "Pardon?"

Adara made a hand motion as if he should understand what she was asking. "The nature of the Organisation— like your goal?"

Sam stepped forward, hand outstretched to grab her arm. "I'll take you to our leader for a few minutes; he will explain it."

Adara stepped back too fast, bumping into the shield, trying to be as far from him as possible.

Sam watched her action with eyes too wide. He let out a breath, taking a step back and lifting his hands slightly to show he was harmless. "Sorry, I should have asked beforehand."

He couldn't stop thinking about that millisecond of panic on her face. Because of him. Because he took a step towards her.

Adara took a small step forward so that her back was not pressed against the shield. "Don't teleport me anywhere; just tell me what your goal is."

Sam shook his head softly. "I'm afraid only our leader can truly explain."

Adara narrowed her eyes. "You can't even give a summary of your purpose? I know you guys were in charge of the attack on the Plaza—."

"—The attack you heroically prevented—."

"— Can't you tell me the purpose of that attack?" she asked him, frustration on her face. She just wanted to know more about the Organisation, but he could not even tell her that.

Sam tried again. "Our leader—."

"No," Adara said, flat-out. "I will not join an organisation whose members cannot even say its goals."

Sam exhaled calmly. Finally, this talk is going according to plan. "I was afraid you might respond like that."

Adara raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I was going to accept blindly?"

No, Sam thought. The plan relied on you refusing. "Where is that friend of yours? Cale Henituse?"

Adara stilled in an unnatural way. "He is at the Palace," she responded.

Sam smiled, he would have taken a step forward, but the way Adara moved so quickly away from him was ingrained in his head. "Do you know what he's doing?"

"Reading a book," she said. He had been reading a book when she left. From what she heard from him, he enjoyed the book, so he must still be reading the book.

Sam made a small face of disagreement, a small smile on his face. "You're half right. He's sipping on a teacup with a simple golden fish design right now while reading his book, the Retelling of Puzzle City. A good book, the plot twist at the end is quite unexpect—."

"Get to the point. What's in the tea?"

Sam smiled at her, no longer apologetic. "You thought I didn't give enough details about our Organisation. Would giving you plenty of details now satiate your curiosity?"

He watched her hand twitch, suddenly wondering if he should have mocked her. "If you don't start talking right now, I am the one who is going to be choking you," she threatened, and he did not think it was a bluff.

Sam swallowed as calmly as he could.  "We snuck in a member as one of your servants. That member served Young Master Cale some tea with a specific poison in it—."

"What poison?" she asked. She no longer sounded like she was going to murder him, but instead, she sounded curious.

Sam smiled at her. "Now, I cannot possibly tell you that. What I will tell you is that you need to take a daily antidote or else you will get very weak and ill. After— around a week— of being sick, you will die."

Adara could see where this was going.

If her experience with the assassin this morning proved anything, it proved that the Vitality of the Heart heals fast-acting poison. But will it heal a slow-acting one? She could not be sure. She could trust in the Ancient Power, but in the Novel Kim Rok Soo read, Taylor Stan, having acquired the Vitality of the Heart, still died a week later. I need to go back to Cale, I need to warn him. I need to check on him. But, if she knows anything about ordeals such as this one, Sam is going to try and pressure her to join now.

"You're bluffing," she said.

Sam smiled. "Am I? Well, I'm sure you wouldn't believe me like that." It is only natural, he thought. Since she has no knowledge of our Organisation, of course, she isn't sure what they're capable of. "Do you want to go back and check?"

Adara shrugged, indifferent. "Not necessarily; I have somewhere to be. I have the whole week to check, don't I?"

Sam tried very hard to keep his surprise off his face. Did we make another miscalculation? His orders were to get her to join as fast as possible. He smiled, hiding his initial surprise. "Somewhere to be? You can visit the priest tomorrow, why don't you go back to the Palace now? I'm afraid we didn't send the most capable person to the job; she might have got the dose wrong and given your Young Master a bit too much poison. He might not even have a week left."

Adara raised her eyebrow. She was sure that last comment was a bluff to get her to check on Cale. Sending someone who might kill him is just stupid. And in a situation such as this one, the whole point is that Cale remains alive but poisoned.

"Do you guys not have any capable members?" she asked him, still indifferent. "One chokes me when he's supposed to recruit me, and another is going to kill when she means only to poison. No wonder you guys are so insistent on me joining, the amount of reliable people seems to be declining."

Sam smiled. "Whatever gets you to join."

Adara narrowed her eyes. "And if I do? What happens then?"

Sam didn't quite smile, but it was close. "Our member will become one of Young Master Cale's servants, administering the antidote to him every day." Now he smiled. "I'd recommend not killing her since any sign that you might hurt her or search her pockets for the antidote, she will smash the vial containing the antidote on the ground. You see, we added this tasteless factor to the antidote, where if the liquid is shaken, it evaporates. And then she will kill herself."

"And, correct me if I'm wrong," Adara started, "but you'll keep on giving Cale the antidote for as long as I cooperate?"

Sam smiled wider than before. "There is nothing to correct, you got the idea."

I'll be the one on a leash then, Adara thought. A poisonous leash. "Pretty foolproof plan you've got there."

Sam smiled at the compliment. "Why, thank you." He paused, watching how relaxed her body language was, so indifferent and casual. She didn't seem to believe him. Well, she'll believe us when she sees Young Master Cale weak in his bed, barely able to lift a finger. "I understand that you won't give an answer right now, so you've got a week until your friend dies to give your answer. Until the next time, Adara Thornwin. Don't make any rash choices, and I'm sure we will be pleased with your decision."

She watched him leave with a smile on his face and a crackle of mana. The shield disappeared with him.

Now that he was gone, she could feel multiple eyes on her, and they were not from the citizens.

She threw an invisibility spell over her and started running as fast as she could to the Palace.