"What's the meaning of this, Daira?"

I froze, paralyzed by fear. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to tread carefully. He was dangerous. This man wasn't just angry—he was lethal. The fury in his gaze told me he was on the verge of attacking. The bloodlust radiating from him told me he wanted to kill me.

"You dare to disrespect me, child?"

Sweat trickled down my forehead as the overwhelming dread coursed through me. Daira's body remembered this man too well. The fear was instinctual, primal. There was no way someone like him could ever be called a father. No, he was more like an animal—a predator. A beast bred for violence. A creature whose sole purpose was destruction.

A Sword Master.

Cyrus Grai Thamel was a man of overwhelming stature, his immense presence casting a shadow that swallowed me whole. He seemed to embody darkness itself, a figure carved from the void. His jet-black hair, as dark as a night without stars, framed his face with an almost ominous elegance. A thick, untamed beard obscured much of his mouth, adding to his feral intensity. And his eyes...

His eyes were the dullest blue, the color of a lifeless sky.

They looked dead.

He faced me now, staring with such palpable disdain that I might as well have been an insect beneath his boot. His expression was that of an executioner surveying the condemned before the blade fell. And in that moment, I realized something horrifying: if I didn't speak, nothing would stop him from drawing his sword.

"I... I thought you were calling for me, Father," I managed to stammer.

"Alphonse told me you were awake," he replied coldly.

I had been awake for days.

"I... I'm surprised that, knowing my delicate condition, you would summon me to your office, Father."

"Huh? But you seem bursting with energy."

I recoiled at the venom in his tone. My decision to enter his office so impulsively now seemed like a grave mistake. I had underestimated him, and now I was paying the price. If I had known this would be his reaction, I never would have dared to step foot in this room.

Because nothing could guarantee my safety here.

Especially not when he looked at me like that.

He looked at me as though he truly, deeply hated me.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I failed to properly inform the Princess of your presence."

"It was not the Princess's intention to offend you, Your Grace. The fault is entirely mine."

Before the situation could escalate further, Betia and Alain stepped forward to defend me. Despite the Duke's oppressive aura, my maid and the soldier knelt before him without hesitation, shouldering the blame.

They went down on their knees for me. I couldn't believe it. Especially since it was obvious how terrified they were of the Duke. Betia's trembling hands and wavering voice betrayed her fear as she spoke.

Alain wasn't much better. Though his demeanor was steadier, beads of sweat lined his brow. And if I hadn't known better, I could have sworn his right hand twitched slightly toward the hilt of his sword—as if he were readying himself to intervene, should persuasion fail.

Fortunately, it didn't come to that.

"Stand back," the Duke sighed.

Just like that, the oppressive hostility in the room dissipated. With the Duke's command, Betia and Alain had no choice but to obey. They gave a deep bow and exited, closing the heavy doors behind them.

The immediate danger was gone, but I didn't dare lower my guard. The Duke had yet to explain why he had summoned me.

"I just wanted to learn more about your supposed amnesia," he finally said, his voice calm but cold.

"I don't remember anything. That's the truth," I replied, trying to sound confident, though my nerves betrayed me.

The Duke studied me in silence, his piercing eyes making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"I see..." he murmured at last.

Without another word, he turned away, walked to his desk, and sat down. Picking up a pile of documents, he began leafing through them as though I were no longer in the room.

"You are dismissed," he said flatly.

Total disbelief.

"What...?"

"I said you are dismissed, Daira."

I frowned.

"You called me here for that?"

"Yes," he replied curtly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And then, just like that, he ignored me. Everything that had happened—him summoning me, his outrage at the way I entered—meant absolutely nothing.

This man... he had no interest in me. Not as a daughter. Not even as a person.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hissed, clenching my fists.

The Duke's head snapped up, his expression stunned.

"What did you just say?"

I locked eyes with him, refusing to back down.

"I said, what the hell is wrong with you, Father?" I spat, the word laced with resentment.

The Duke rose from his chair, his towering form bristling with anger.

"Moderate your tone with me, Daira!"

"And why should I?! I almost drowned, and you don't even pretend to care! What's your problem with me?!"

"I will not tolerate this insolence—"

"And what are you going to do about it?! Lock me up?! I've been confined to my room for days, and not a single person has come to see me. No one cares. How is that any different from being a prisoner?!"

"Is that what this is about?" His voice was cold, dismissive. "I've been too busy these days to visit you."

"It's only five damn minutes from here to my room! And you couldn't even spare that?! What kind of father are you?!"

The Duke sighed, his frustration palpable.

"I see you are still incapable of comprehending the weight of my responsibilities."

My anger only grew.

"These are just excuses! All you had to do was come and say hello! To show, even for a second, that my father cared whether I was still breathing! Because it sure doesn't feel like my family wants me! Where is my brother?! And my mother—?!"

My words were abruptly cut off by a deafening roar.

In a single, furious motion, the Duke slammed his fist onto the desk, shattering it clean in half. The sheer force sent a tremor rippling through the entire office—and likely through part of the mansion as well.

I was petrified. That suffocating aura of hostility returned, wrapping itself around me like a noose. It was a warning. One more word from me, and I'd be in serious danger.

"Get out..."

The Duke's eyes burned with rage as he fixed me with a glare so intense, I felt my knees weaken. My mind went blank, and a single horrifying thought gripped me:

At any moment, this man could draw his sword and end my life.

"All the way out!" he roared.

I couldn't stay a second longer. Without thinking, I turned and ran, my vision blurring with the sting of unshed tears. I threw open the heavy doors and fled as fast as I could, putting as much distance as possible between myself and that... monster.

"P-Princess!"

Betia and Alain were waiting for me in the hallway. As soon as I escaped that suffocating, murderous aura, I gasped for air, finally able to breathe again. But the relief was short-lived.

I had just proven what I'd suspected all along.

My father didn't love me.

"Let's go back to my room," I muttered, my voice hollow.

I returned defeated, unable to process what had just happened. My relationship with my parents in my previous life hadn't been perfect, but it was nothing compared to this. What Duke Cyrus had done—what he was capable of doing—was unimaginable.

I had never seen a father treat his daughter that way.

The Duke hated me. He hated Daira. He didn't even care that she had nearly died. In fact, I was certain he would've celebrated her death.

Some father. A damned father.

"Are you alive?"

On my way back to my room, I passed another man. I couldn't help but notice the uncanny resemblance between him and the Duke. Though younger and slightly leaner, the similarity was striking. His fine clothing and the playful smirk on his face gave him an air of effortless confidence.

I didn't need to ask his name to know who he was.

Belmont Grai Thamel. The heir. So much like his father in appearance—and in the way he looked at me. His obvious displeasure at seeing me made my stomach turn. Betia and Alain bowed deeply, but I stood there, crestfallen, already bracing for the next round.

"This is quite a surprise," Belmont said, his tone light but cutting. "I really wasn't expecting this. Edurne has been so nervous these past few days, eager to visit you. But I stopped her... just in case."

"Who is... Edurne?" I asked hesitantly.

Belmont threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing down the corridor.

"So the amnesia thing is real?"

I frowned.

"You think this is funny?"

"Funny?"

He stopped laughing abruptly, his expression hardening into something much colder.

"It doesn't matter. At least now you'll stop tormenting poor Edurne."

Confusion gripped me.

"Listen to me, kid," Belmont said as he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. He leaned in, so close that his breath brushed against my ear.

"Make sure you never leave your room again."

And with that, he pulled back, his smile returning as he walked away.

What a cruel life you had, Daira.

Your father hated you. Your brother despised you. The servants of your household looked down on you.

Your only friend was a girl who couldn't even read. You had no sword, no means to protect yourself.

You were so beautiful...

And so miserable.

And that's why I understood you.

I, too, knew the despair of living without hope. The pain of knowing there was no salvation. Our world was devoid of smiles, suffocating in a void where happiness couldn't thrive. I understood your burden. I understood your weariness—the exhaustion of living in a house that was anything but a home.

I understood why you decided to jump.

"Betia."

"Yes, Princess?"

"What happened to my mother?"

It is said that long ago, Thamel was the happiest place in the world.

The Duke was once madly in love with the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

No—of the entire world.

Though she was a foreigner, her charisma and intelligence captivated everyone she met. Even the cold-hearted Duke of Thamel wasn't immune. Their love story culminated in the grandest wedding Avantgar had ever seen. Monarchs from distant nations attended, bearing witness to the union of the radiant princess from faraway lands and the youngest living Sword Master.

There was no better couple.

They were blessed with unparalleled joy. Just a year after their wedding, their first child was born—a boy as striking as the Duke himself. The parents were overjoyed, vowing to raise their son with all the love and attention they could give, something rarely seen among the nobility.

They swore he would be different. They would give him everything the other nobles denied their children.

The Duke and his princess were a peculiar couple by Avantgar's standards. In this kingdom, marriages were often loveless unions forged for political alliances or financial gain. But not theirs. They were deeply, unmistakably in love. And they adored their son.

The servants of that time bore witness to the great love that bound this family. The couple often took long walks through their endless rose gardens, hand in hand. In the evenings, they would gather with their son, telling him stories and holding him close until he drifted off to sleep.

They were the epitome of a perfect family.

Until one day, everything changed.

The Duchess was pregnant again. What should have been joyous news quickly became Thamel's darkest nightmare.

The Duchess fell gravely ill. Every doctor who saw her confirmed the same grim diagnosis: her pregnancy was the cause. For reasons they couldn't explain, the child in her womb was draining her health, threatening her life. They pleaded with her to terminate the pregnancy, warning that continuing would have devastating consequences.

But the Duchess refused.

Her husband begged her—over and over—desperate for her to reconsider. He got down on his knees, tears streaming down his face. He knew, with agonizing certainty, that the birth of this child would mean the death of the woman he loved.

And if the Duke had to choose between the wife who was his everything and a child he had never met, the answer was painfully clear.

But the Duchess would not yield.

How could a mother take the life of her child? Even if it meant giving up her own, she was willing to make that sacrifice.

So the months passed... and the child was born.

As predicted, the birth was agonizingly complicated. In the end, the Duchess passed away without ever laying eyes on her daughter. She left behind a shattered husband and a grieving son, both utterly consumed by her loss.

And in their devastation, they made a terrible choice: they directed all their anguish, all their fury, at the only one left—the child who survived.

What else could they do? Blame God? That would solve nothing. They couldn't hate the Duchess for her decision; they still loved her too much. So the only outlet for their pain and resentment was the innocent girl who had taken her place.

She had to be the one to bear the burden of their hatred. She had to be the one to suffer.

After all, wasn't she the reason the Duchess was gone? Her very existence was a cruel, unrelenting reminder of their loss. And so the entire Duchy plunged into misery. There was no joy left in Thamel.

And it was all because of her.

Everyone hated her.

But they couldn't cast her out. The Duchess's final wish had been for her daughter to be cared for.

So they obeyed, reluctantly.

But affection? Love? That, they would never give her.

And so the child, Daira, was condemned to a life of endless suffering.

The servants despised her, unable to forgive the girl for taking away their beloved Duchess. Her brother tormented her, clinging to the memory of their mother and the joy she once brought into his life. And her father... he couldn't even look at her without being reminded of the woman he had lost.

To him, she was a ghost of his pain, a living shadow of his failure to protect the one he loved most. And that torment consumed him.

In the end, Daira was utterly alone.

Everyone was against her. No one cared for her. No one stood by her.

Her only companions were pain and despair—the despair of knowing she could never change her fate. For there is no solution to death.

This was a story that was never meant to have a happy ending.

I hope you're enjoying Noble Soul so far! Chapter 2 was an emotional one to write, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you liked it, please vote and comment—it means so much to me! And don't forget to follow me for updates on Daira's journey.