Aya Ran Away - Chapter 1

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 1
Prologue
“Ah, my God!”
Aya suddenly recalled a snatch of song she had forgotten for so very long.
Like a corpse lurching upright from the grave, the phantom of a lost era struck her mind without warning.
‘That’s ridiculous.’
Aya mocked herself for mentally tracing the notes of that forgotten melody.
She had no desire to linger over the lyrics of a buried past.
It was far too sentimental.
Yet her mind, starved of sleep for so long, refused to settle.
“…I beseech you, grant me death.”
Someone’s voice continued to sing inside her head, relentless.
At the off-key notes, Aya laughed aloud like a madwoman, alone in the dark.
‘It’s unbearable.’
Sleep deprivation had fractured her thoughts into scattered fragments that refused to cohere.
Nearly ten days had passed without proper rest.
She had scraped her power bare in its use, and the malevolent spirits retaliated with relentless torment.
Whenever exhaustion drew her toward sleep, those creatures pounced without fail.
The deeper her consciousness sank, the more vicious their harassment became.
She had wrestled with them through the nights, but in the end, no one could aid her save herself.
Nahal excepted.
Aya lifted her head and gazed through the window.
The light of the rising sun was crawling up the wall that divided the boundaries.
Rays fell across broken branches and withered flower stalks bent long ago.
The view beyond the window was desolate.
Pottery jars lay shattered into scattered fragments, and the pond that had been stained with blood now held the color of rust.
The Garden, which had once been so beautiful, had become a graveyard of broken, shattered, severed things, stripped of all former grace.
……
Light streaming through the window caught the golden thread that bordered the hem of her robe.
The falcon embroidered on her garment betrayed her station.
The ring on her finger served much the same purpose.
A treasure only the most noble of women could possess.
Ten days ago, it would have been hers without question.
Whether it still was now—that, she could not say with certainty.
For these ten days, Nahal had not come looking for her.
Nor had anyone else.
She had been abandoned here among the corpses.
‘Will he kill me?’
That thought had consumed her every waking moment these past ten days.
And even now, standing at this threshold, she could not stop wondering it.
Though she recognized the foolishness of it, she could not relinquish hope.
He had eradicated the traitors, yet knowing she had survived, he had made no move to end her.
Was that indifference or protection?
……
Protection!
Laughter escaped her unbidden at the thought.
Even as she mocked herself so, she could not draw the final period on so obvious an answer.
Despair at her own wretchedness choked her breath away.
Then it came.
Tap-tap-tap……
Measured footsteps, as if synchronized to a rhythm, echoed from some distance away.
She turned her head toward the sound beyond the window.
At the end of her sharply angled gaze, she glimpsed several figures walking beneath the roof of the Corridor.
Her heart began to race.
Aya had no difficulty recognizing the figure in the lead.
His hair shimmered in the light.
In an instant, the chill emanating from the malevolent spirits receded.
‘Nahal.’
Her limbs began to tremble uncontrollably.
Whether from hunger or from fear, she could not discern.
Perhaps it was excitement clouding her judgment.
‘This is insane.’
Surprisingly, Aya found herself growing buoyant.
In this terrible, cavernous tomb of his making, her heart had begun to race.
Her thoughts spiraled in an absurdly optimistic direction.
‘There are no armed soldiers.’
If he’d meant to cut her throat, he would have brought guards with him.
No—he wouldn’t have needed to come himself at all.
Then why had he come alone, unarmed?
‘Perhaps he trusts me.’
He might understand me.
Perhaps he might.
Impossible as it seemed, Nahal might still trust her despite all her lies.
Aya rose from the bed.
The moment strength returned to her limbs, her already fragile legs began to shake uncontrollably.
The arm gripping the cane trembled just as badly.
Yet she resolved to leave the room and see what lay beyond.
Leaning on the cane, Aya moved forward in slow, labored steps.
She was just crossing the threshold into the corridor when it happened.
“Ah!”
Her foot caught on something slick, and she fell forward onto the corridor floor.
Her weakened body crashed down with a sharp sound, unable to catch its balance.
Her long, black hair tumbled loose across her vision.
She managed to brace herself with her arms to keep her face from striking the ground, but the cane flew from her hand and skittered several paces ahead, beyond easy reach.
She would have to crawl to retrieve it.
As she reached out to grip the wall to stand, Aya realized what she had stepped on.
It was a pool of blood, dried and congealing.
She became aware that her clothes and limbs were covered in that putrid stain.
Her already sluggish mind seemed to grind to a halt.
Then a sound echoed from deeper in the corridor.
She lifted her head and saw a figure approaching.
‘Nahal.’
From a distance, she watched him cut through the air, dispersing people as he moved.
He walked toward her alone.
In the silence, only the sound of his footsteps rang clear.
Each step measured, without hesitation.
His face betrayed nothing.
As he drew near, Aya’s eyes swept across his face and limbs, checking for any sign of injury.
His face bore unfamiliar scars and had grown somewhat gaunt, but both his arms and legs remained intact.
Having heard rumors that he had endured unspeakable torment, she felt a surge of profound relief.
‘Thank the heavens.’
Only after confirming he was whole did Aya release a trembling sigh.
Nahal came to stand before her.
Whether he heard her exhale or not, he lowered his gaze to look down at her.
His eyes were deep, observant, searching.
A low voice echoed above her head.
“Are you disappointed?”
Aya’s shoulders jerked, and she lifted her head.
The moment their eyes met, tremors ran through her body.
She saw a chilling light flicker across his gaze.
Her breath caught.
He had never looked at her this way before.
“Did you not say that you hoped for my death?”
His tone was flat, devoid of hurt or anger.
His face was, as always, composed and coldly merciless.
Even though his blade had reduced the palace to chaos, he—at the center of it all—moved with the eerie calm of someone taking a stroll, his composure chilling to witness.
He still appeared disturbingly unscathed.
“…Are you hurt?”
He tilted his head slightly as he asked.
She hesitated, uncertain of his meaning, and he asked again.
His eyes flashed with a chill that raised the hair on her skin.
“Who touched you?”
The grinding edge in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Aya, belatedly grasping his meaning, shook her head from side to side.
At her response, Nahal dropped to his knees and seized her arm.
Long, rough fingers traced over her thin, blood-smeared arm with surprising gentleness.
Finding no wound deep enough to account for such bleeding, the tension in his face eased slightly.
“……I must have lost my mind.”
He muttered it to himself, his tone bitter.
Nahal’s grip on Aya’s arm tightened.
Seized by inexplicable dread, she twisted her body backward, trying to wrench her arm free.
But he would not release her.
Instead, he pulled her closer, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“You’re trembling like this.”
He spoke quietly.
He seemed to feel the quivering that ran through her body.
‘No.’
That’s what Aya wanted to say.
That it wasn’t only fear of him making her shake like this.
But in moments like these, she was powerless.
Her lips moved silently, but no sound took shape into words, nothing escaped her mouth.
Unless her severed tongue grew back, unless she reclaimed her voice, this would be her fate forever.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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