Cain Vanderbilt. In his presence, one found reassurance and a sense of tranquility.

"Worry not. Such scoundrels can be found everywhere."

He walked alongside Laila, offering her solace.

Walking with Cain made her feel like a lady of means herself. Despite the fact that fine garments and expensive jewelry alone could not salvage one's self-esteem, Cain's mere presence made those by his side feel confident. That's how remarkable his existence was.

Repeatedly, it seemed to bring forth new experiences for her. Things she had never enjoyed or even dreamed of. Though the encounters stemmed from contractual arrangements devoid of emotions, her heart couldn't help but race.

"There's something peculiar about this place."

"What is it?"

"To think that once radiant things can crumble like this."

"Nothing is eternal before time. Neither possessions nor emotions."

Cain calmly received her words.

"What is that over there?"

Laila pointed to a carriage lodged against one side of a walled structure with a roof. It didn't appear to be excessively old, considering its use before the castle's collapse.

"That is a carriage used to transport weaponry. Twenty years ago, during the uprising that confronted the monarchy, the revolutionary forces also concealed weapons in nearby cities, apart from the capital."

"Ah..."

"The weapons that were loaded onto the carriage have been transferred back to the baggage cart," she said, her voice carrying a hint of darkness, her knowledge of the Piaad Revolution apparent. Born on the day of the fateful event, the executioner's words became her namesake. It appears that the weapons hidden here were meant to overthrow the imperial family and its supporters.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Now, the monarchy has crumbled, the nobility has vanished, and the council and congress have taken their place.

The traces of the waning year stretched over the walls. The late autumn sunset exuded a pallid and melancholic aura, distinct from other seasons.

Perhaps it was due to this, or maybe the remnants of her connected past had stirred her heart. Laila, gazing quietly at the city walls, finally spoke.

"Our parents are not our true parents."

It was a revelation. Laila had confided in someone other than Amber, the florist.

Cain appeared taken aback, but he stood still and listened intently.

"On the day of the revolution, I was found near a place where fish scraps were discarded. My mother discovered me there and brought me home," she revealed.

Delma surmised that based on Laila's appearance, she must have been born a few days before the revolution took place. Consequently, during those days, Delma commemorated her own birthday, which no one bothered to celebrate, with a heart heavy with sorrow.

"Both parents were resentful," Laila uttered, her countenance adorned with a somber smile. The period of her transition from girlhood to womanhood proved to be the most arduous. Delma had failed to properly educate her on the physiological changes experienced by adolescent girls, and men like Marshall, along with their lascivious gazes and taunting remarks, added to her tribulations. It was an emotionally sensitive time for her.

She resented both sets of parents for abandoning her in her time of great hardship. She often pondered how it would have been better if she had never been discovered and had perished instead, or if she had been found by someone slightly better than Delma. Such thoughts occupied her mind endlessly.

"But now, my heart has changed."

"......"

"Regardless, I'm grateful that I'm still alive. Being alive has led me to witness such magnificent places. When I reflect upon it, I find solace in the fact that I didn't fall into the clutches of even more nefarious individuals. And I thank you for granting me this opportunity."

Though it was a roundabout way of expressing herself, she desired to speak these words. Whatever kind of person he may be or whatever emotions he harbored, it was his heart that mattered now.

Cain silently gazed at her. Beyond his colorless gaze, a faint trace of emotion remained hidden from her awareness.

"Our mother is not our real mother. She married our father when I was seven years old."

"Ah...."