Inside the Prayer Room, there was only one girl about Franziska’s age.
She was tall, slender, and willowy, yet every line of her body radiated the supple, graceful strength characteristic of the leopard bloodline. Her allure was not something deliberately displayed; it seemed to have seeped into her very bones, becoming a natural part of every movement.
Rebecca tilted her head slightly, gazing intently at the intricately carved face of the Moon Goddess on the opposite wall. Beneath the statue was a solid gold-diamond leopard head. Two branches of pale amethyst irises curled around either side, reflecting the Prayer Room’s wan white light.
Rebecca’s glossy black hair had been styled with meticulous care. Loose curls fell just far enough to conceal nearly all of her bare back, revealing only glimpses of skin so pale it seemed unnatural.
—It’s here?
Rebecca did not turn around as she casually questioned the maid who had brought Franziska there.
The servant stopped five paces away, immediately bending at the waist and lowering her head. Her absolute submission was completely at odds with her rude attitude on the way there.
—Yes, Your Grace. Miss Franziska has arrived and is waiting for you to summon her.
—There’s no need to waste time. Let her come in herself. You wait in the hallway.
Rebecca’s voice remained flat, giving no indication that she was angry. Yet her brows drew together slightly, revealing her displeasure at the servant’s sluggish work.
That tiny change alone was enough to make the maid’s face go pale.
—I’m sorry, Your Grace! Please forgive me. I’ll bring Miss Franziska in immediately.
Trying to keep her voice from trembling, the maid hurried back to open the heavy door. Without another word, she grabbed Franziska by the wrist and dragged her along.
Caught off guard, Franziska staggered and nearly fell. She could only force herself to keep moving, passing through the outer rooms and into the deepest chamber, where thick curtains hung tightly closed, keeping out every trace of light.
—Duchess Rebecca is waiting inside. Hurry in, Miss.
The maid did not dare take another step. Too frightened by Rebecca’s authority, she simply shoved Franziska hard in the back.
Franziska lost her balance and fell face-first onto the hard stone floor.
Her palms and arms were scraped at once. Her knee struck the ground so hard that for a moment, she nearly lost all feeling in her leg.
Franziska drew a deep breath and bit down hard on her lip, not daring to cry out.
But even that tiny sound reached the person inside.
—Hmph.
A soft, cold laugh rang out.
The blood in Franziska’s veins seemed to freeze. She did not dare remain seated on the stone floor. She immediately pushed herself up and hurried inside, ignoring the pain that traveled from her knee all the way to her hip.
—Good morning, Duchess Rebecca.
She bent at the waist, lowered her face, and bowed her head.
Absolute loyalty. Rebecca always came first.
That was the first thing Franziska had been taught after entering the Crozier estate.
“Remember this: your life, your existence, and even your heart all belong to Rebecca.”
Lady Catrina had said those words.
The Duke of Crozier and the eldest son had said nothing at the time, but their eyes had made it clear: she had no right to object.
—You’re late.
Rebecca’s icy voice cut through her memories.
Franziska flinched. Her body trembled instinctively. It was a fear that had sunk into the depths of her soul, no longer requiring reason to control it.
—I’m terribly sorry. Please forgive me.
She lowered her head even further. No matter how hard she tried to suppress it, her voice still trembled.
Rebecca did not press the matter. She merely stared at Franziska in silence.
That silence immediately became an order.
Franziska understood that the ritual had to begin.
She drew a deep breath, swallowed the discomfort in her throat, and quickly walked to the second round cushion beneath the statue of the Moon Goddess.
Franziska knelt across from Rebecca, lowering her eyes to avoid the other girl’s haughty gaze. Then she began regulating her breathing and steadying her mind.
Rebecca did not follow suit. She kept her eyes open, watching the girl in front of her intently.
Only when Franziska closed her eyes, clasped her hands, and began to pray did Rebecca slowly follow. Her expression grew calm, almost gentle. Her slender figure was enveloped in a halo of clear white light, making her look both noble and fragile.
That was what Rebecca hated most about herself.
But with the pride of the strong, she always told herself that as long as Franziska remembered her place and status, she would protect that small, useless little Deer and let her live peacefully under the name of a noble.
The motes of light floating in the air began slowly gathering together. They formed a slender cord connecting the hearts of the two girls.
At last, Rebecca closed her eyes and waited calmly.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Franziska had no idea what Rebecca was thinking. She could only focus on the prayer, pouring all her awareness into every beat of her heart.
Drop by drop, blood from her heart slowly seeped into the cord of light and flowed along it toward Rebecca.
Franziska’s body was like a flower trapped in a pot, never having seen sunlight. It was as fragile as a glass vessel, utterly incapable of withstanding the mysterious chaos churning through her veins.
Each time she performed the ritual, she acted only on instinct, silently enduring the upheaval inside her without ever knowing its cause.
This time was no different.
The moment the ritual began, Franziska’s chest convulsed violently. A sweet, metallic taste immediately rose in her throat. Fresh blood spilled from the corner of her mouth, stark and glaring against her pallid skin.
The instant the first drop of blood entered Rebecca’s body, a dense black mist suddenly appeared at the left junction of her heart.
Red streaks like blood mottled the thick fog. It twisted and struggled without pause, as though trying to tear apart the bond taking shape.
Each drop of Franziska’s blood that dissolved into Rebecca’s body made the black mist flare more violently.
If a third person had been there, they would have seen that the thing wrapped around Rebecca’s heart looked like a black cloth being stretched by countless invisible hands, trying to rip it into pieces.
In that instant, the irises on the wall all trembled at once.
There was no wind in the Prayer Room.
The cord of light between their hearts suddenly gave off the faintest hum, exactly like the sound Franziska had heard when her fingertip touched the cluster of white flowers at the age of seven.
A thin streak of light swept across her wrist and vanished.
Franziska’s eyes remained closed. She noticed nothing.
But Rebecca’s eyes flew open.
For the first time, a flicker of astonishment appeared in her pale golden eyes.
At the end of the cord connected to her heart, amid the struggling black mist, Rebecca saw an image that did not belong in this room.
A shattered crown.
A pillar of silver light pierced the darkness, shining down upon the earth drowned in a sea of blood.
And beneath that pillar of light, a sprig of pale purple lavender still shone silently—frail, but refusing to go out.
The image lasted only an instant before dissolving into countless motes of light. They drifted through the black mist, flickering like fragments of memory someone had deliberately torn apart.
Rebecca wanted to see more clearly, but her consciousness was already growing heavy. The ritual seemed to be draining every ounce of strength from her body. Her lashes trembled several times before slowly closing.
The instant Rebecca lost consciousness, a stream of white light suddenly surged up from the cord binding their hearts. It spread at a speed visible to the naked eye, enveloping the entire space around them.
The light closed in from all four sides, forming a transparent cage that imprisoned Franziska, Rebecca, and the black mist coiling around the Duchess’s heart.
The black mist thrashed wildly. Again and again, it hurled itself toward the cord connecting their hearts, trying to sever the bond before it could be completely purified.
But every escape route had already been sealed.
Amid the pure white light, it could only convulse and struggle, letting out hoarse, grating hisses like a beast driven into a dead end.
Riiip!
The sound of something tearing apart rang out.
A tiny point of light appeared within the pitch-black mist. It gradually expanded, then suddenly ripped through one corner of the fog.
The black mist seemed to be in pain. Franziska felt it struggle far more violently than before, hurling itself frantically toward the cord connecting their hearts, trying to sever the bond between her and Rebecca.
But the motes of light carrying Franziska’s purifying power would not allow it.
Another section of the mist continued to dissolve, fast enough to be seen with the naked eye. The mist itself seemed to grow calmer, as though it no longer had the strength to keep resisting.
Franziska opened her eyes and carefully observed the black mist. Compared with the first time, it had become much smaller. Its color had not changed significantly, but that alone was enough to prove that the toxin in Rebecca’s body was being suppressed.
She drew a deep breath and slowly withdrew her spiritual power. The connection to Rebecca’s heart gradually disappeared.
Franziska reached to the side and gently tugged the cord connected to the bell outside the door, signaling that the prayer ritual had ended.
Almost immediately, Rebecca’s four personal maids appeared. They silently bowed to Franziska according to protocol, then helped the unconscious Rebecca out of the Prayer Room.
—Haa…
Franziska exhaled a long, labored breath before collapsing weakly onto the floor. She was so exhausted that she could only lie still on the cold stone, letting the chill seep through her skin and deep into her bones.
Rebecca was taken away to be cared for.
The Prayer Room returned to its usual quiet.
It was still that same feeling of silence and solitude. Yet strangely, Franziska was not uncomfortable at all. On the contrary, she liked sitting before the statue of the Goddess, spending most of the day praying and confiding her feelings to Her.
Of course, none of the servants wanted to stay behind and watch over Franziska. Their only duty was to ensure that her body did not deteriorate enough to affect Duchess Rebecca’s recovery.
When Franziska woke again, the moon had already climbed high into the sky.
She sat up hazily. For a moment, her mind was blank, and she could not remember what day it was. Only when the familiar pain radiated from the front of her chest did she remember that today was the day of Duchess Rebecca’s healing ritual.
—Ungh…
Perhaps because her body had already been unstable since morning, the pain after this ritual lasted longer and was more severe than usual.
Franziska dug her fingernails into the skin over her heart, as though that might ease the pain. She bit her lip, forcing herself not to make a sound, then used every ounce of strength she had to stagger back to her room.
She had prepared too hastily that morning. As usual, the maids had been nowhere to be seen. So it was hardly surprising that she had forgotten to bring her medicine with her.
It was only a side effect of the ritual, not a threat to her life, but it was excruciating. Franziska could only cling to the walls and drag herself step by step toward the annex.
A few maids and servants passed by along the way. They all walked quickly, their faces busy and preoccupied, and not one of them stopped to ask after her. Their attitude was rude, but given her status, Franziska understood that they did not consider her pain worth troubling themselves over.
She did not blame them.
She did not know how long she had been walking when she finally saw the annex. She felt as though she could not take another step. Her legs were as heavy as lead, and the pain grew more intense by the moment, making her whole body feel ready to collapse.
She could only grit her teeth and continue forward like a wooden puppet.
When she reached her room, Franziska used the last of her strength to stay conscious, swallowed the two pills from the small bottle beside her bed, and immediately sank into sleep.