"I hate you, Iago," the girl declared, standing directly in front of him.
A heavy rain poured down, accompanied by ear-splitting thunder. Yet, the gaze in the girl's eyes felt far sharper and more piercing than the raging storm itself. "I utterly despise you; I hope you die." Having uttered those words, she turned and left him alone.
Iago froze, his head lowered, his eyes fixed on the ground. The rumble of thunder did not sway him in the slightest. His eyes widened marginally, his lips parted, and his soaked black hair clung to his forehead.
The relentless rain drenched him, weighing down his body. For ten agonizing minutes, he simply stood there—until a slow, terrifying smile bloomed on his lips.
Five Years Earlier.
The year was 1500. In a land called Cirland stood a wealthy and renowned kingdom: The Valemira Kingdom. It was famous for producing many brilliant and noble-spirited thinkers.
One morning, a twenty-year-old youth had just arrived in the capital city. He had curly black hair, parted in the middle, slightly wavy, and a little messy at the back. His eyes were half-closed, giving him a perpetually tired or sleepy appearance. Although dressed simply, his look was neat and clean, exuding a handsomeness—quite captivating for someone from the countryside.
"So, that's the Valemira Kingdom..." he murmured softly.
In the distance, the magnificent palace towered high. Walls of white marble mingled with glittering gold metal until its peak pierced the clouds, standing like a beacon visible from the outer district of Citywon Town.
The young man walked through the busy crowd. People were engrossed in their morning routines, mostly shopping for daily necessities. He briefly paused at a puddle, staring at the unfamiliar reflection of his face, then continued his journey.
"Well, hello there, lad! Never seen your face around. You from the village, are you?" a seasoned merchant called out, making him turn. The man had a potbelly and a thick mustache, smiling as he gestured for the young man to approach.
"Yes, sir. Just arrived from the countryside. Is there anything I can help you with?" the youth asked with a faint smile.
"I'm offering this lucky charm. Just one Flor." The merchant held up a small trinket.
The young man raised an eyebrow. One Flor for such nonsense? Since childhood, he had never believed in supernatural things.
"Forgive me, sir, but do you truly think I have that much money to spare?"
The merchant paused, then laughed awkwardly. "Haha... true enough. One Flor is perhaps a bit pricey for you, isn't it?"
The youth merely smiled. They spoke briefly before he politely declined the man's offer of work and continued on his way.
A lucky charm, huh? Who on earth would buy something like that.
A short while later, a horse-drawn carriage passed by. A dashing guard held the reins, while inside sat a blonde, blue-eyed noble girl. Her name was Stella Valemira, daughter of the ruler of Valemira. For a fleeting moment, the girl's eyes met the young man's. It was just a glance—but enough to make time feel suspended.
The carriage should have kept moving, but it abruptly stopped. Stella quickly dismounted, her eyes fixed on the retreating back of the young man. She rushed to catch up. "Wait! Hey, you..."
The youth turned, confused, as Stella caught her breath.
"Don't just stand there like an idiot!" she snapped.
"My apologies, but... is there a problem, Milady?" he asked politely.
"Who are you? I've never seen you before."
"I have just arrived from the countryside."
Stella narrowed her eyes. In a swift motion, she drew her sword and pressed it against the young man's neck. The surrounding crowd gasped and began to whisper.
"Hey, isn't that Princess Stella?"
"Yes... but why is she pointing her sword at that man?"
"I heard there's a master thief in the city... called The Shadow."
The whispers were loud enough for the youth to hear. He immediately understood. So, she thinks I am that thief, The Shadow.
Calmly, he said, "I understand your suspicion. But is drawing a sword truly necessary when the truth is still in doubt?" Then, without hesitation, he stepped closer, leaning into the blade until it nicked his neck. A drop of blood fell.
Stella's eyes widened. "Don't move! I'll run you through if you take another step!" she yelled, though her hand trembled slightly.
"Is this how Valemira nobility treats the innocent, Princess?" the youth countered coldly.
The guard, Garron, quickly approached, attempting to mediate the situation. "Please, control your temper, Your Highness. Though he looks suspicious, that doesn't necessarily mean he is guilty."
Stella hesitated, then took a deep breath and lowered her sword. "You are right, Garron. I apologize for my rudeness."
The crowd slowly dispersed, disappointed that the man was not the thief they had hoped to see captured. Stella then offered a friendly smile, her beauty radiating genuine softness. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Stella Valemira, daughter of the ruler of Valemira. And you are?"
The young man felt something strange stir within him as he looked into the girl's face. Wait... this face... why does it feel so familiar? But he dismissed the thought.
Bowing respectfully, one hand on his chest and the other behind his back, he replied, "My name is Iago Verbal. It is an honor to meet you, Princess Stella."
Stella froze. Her smile vanished instantly, her eyes widening. "Iago Verbal. That name is... quite unusual."
Iago straightened his posture again and smiled. "Yes, people often say that."
Stella began to feel that something was amiss. Although this was the first time she had met Iago, there was a strange feeling as if they had met before. "Have... we met somewhere?"
Garron felt uneasy upon hearing the question.
"Pardon me, Princess, what do you mean?"
However, Stella ignored Garron's words. Her gaze remained fixed on Iago's eyes, awaiting his answer. "Met? I'm not sure, as I have just arrived in this city."
"I see... Well, forget I said that. So, what brings you to the city, Iago?" Stella asked, trying to regain her composure. Despite the odd feeling, she did not want to make Iago uncomfortable.
"I am seeking employment to make a living."
"To make a living, you say... And where did you acquire those clothes? I doubt such attire can be found in the countryside."
Stella's tone softened, but her suspicion hadn't entirely vanished. She was intensely curious about Iago. Stella was known to be cold and ruthless toward her enemies. Her suspicion and sharp intelligence were far above average. She had even solved the "IV Murderer" case.
The "IV Murderer" case was a serial killing spree in the city of Optherra that claimed over a thousand lives. The mastermind, Alarion Varek, leader of the "IV" Organization, was successfully captured three years ago and sentenced to death. His last words before his execution were: "You are all wrong!" Some believed it was merely an excuse, while others thought he was not the true culprit.
"I received these clothes from a friend of mine who lives in the city. A very close friend."
"Your friend?"
"Yes, I hope to meet him later."
"Do you know where his house is?"
"I do not."
"Princess..." Garron finally interjected. "Forgive me for interrupting, but we cannot linger here any longer. We must continue our search for the thief."
"You are right, Garron. But I doubt the thief would show up in the morning. Am I right, Iago?"
Stella's gaze turned cynical, as if mocking him. She still suspected Iago of being the thief. Yet, Iago remained calm, smiling without taking offense. "Yes, of course. Thieves usually do not show themselves in broad daylight. They tend to operate at night."
"Well, you seem to know a lot..." Stella grew more suspicious. Her lips curled into a sly smile.
"Isn't that common knowledge, Princess?" Iago countered with a similar expression.
Stella felt annoyed but tried to restrain her emotion. She turned and walked toward the carriage. "Come on, Garron!"
"Yes, Princess."
Before the carriage departed, Stella peered out the window. "Goodbye, Iago! I hope we meet again."
Why would she want to meet me again? Iago thought, slipping his hands into his pockets and slightly bowing his head.
He recalled the rumors of the "IV Murderer" case he had heard in the village. Princess Stella, barely eighteen years old, had solved the case, making her name soar. Iago never expected to meet her in person.
After finding an inn, Iago rested in a corner room on the second floor. He carelessly dropped his bag onto the floor and lay down. From the window, he watched the trees swaying in the evening wind.
Truthfully, I've had a bad feeling lately. I feel like there's something I've forgotten, he mused inwardly.
Hours passed, and his laziness made him reluctant to seek employment.
"It's so hot today... I want to buy something refreshing."
He stepped out of the room wearing a shabby, patched-up grey cloak, descended the stairs, and walked outside.
Iago stopped in front of a tavern called The Black Horse. The Black Horse Tavern was quiet. The well-kept brown wooden floor felt strangely ominous, like a trap. Iago ordered a cold apple cider. He tried to enjoy the comfort, but the eyes of the four old men in the corner made him uneasy.
After some time enjoying the tavern's comfort, Iago realized the hour was getting late. He paid for his drink and left.
As Iago turned into a dark, narrow alley, he no longer heard the city's commotion. Only his footsteps. Their footsteps.
Five people. They had followed him out of the tavern.
Iago didn't need to turn around to know who they were. Four burly men; their eyes had been scrutinizing him since he walked into The Black Horse.
"Hold it, you bastard!" a voice shouted, thick with menace. They started running.