Chapter 70
When they met again, the rough-faced man introduced himself as Locke.
He saw potential in the child who obeyed orders without hesitation and could hurt another person without flinching. So he gave Evelia his own surname.
That was how Evelia Locke came to be.
Just as Locke had promised, Evelia never went hungry again.
No longer was she forced to survive on nothing but stale, hardened bread. Sometimes she even indulged in luxuries — a loaf of soft white bread, a steak fresh off the fire, or sausages so juicy they burst beneath her teeth.
Evelia had become a master of striking swiftly and disappearing just as fast. Most of the time, she never found herself in danger. And on the rare occasions she did, the friends she’d made on the streets always managed to pull her out of it.
More than ten years passed that way. Then, one day, Locke never returned to the safe house. Evading those who hunted her, Evelia fled north, hiding herself in the bitter cold.
It wasn’t until she could no longer endure that wretched winter and finally left the northern lands that she learned the truth. She had become a wanted criminal. A fugitive accused of murdering numerous nobles.
At nineteen, Evelia Locke wandered aimlessly across the continent until someone blinded by the bounty struck her from behind and dragged her back to Zelakent in chains.
The violent criminals imprisoned in Zelakent were not the sort to be intimidated by a small-framed young woman. If anything, the inmates who dismissed Evelia as an easy target came after her day and night.
But the filthy schemes and predatory glances finally ceased after sixteen prisoners lost their manhood.
The guards at Zelakent convinced themselves that Evelia Locke had to be hiding a blade somewhere on her person. They searched her every single time. Of course, they never found a weapon.
After one particularly thorough search, a guard stared at her in utter disbelief before asking:
“Just how the hell did you cut those bastards’ dxcks off?”
“You really want to know?”
Evelia answered with a crooked smile. Her unnaturally white canine caught the light. The guard recoiled as though he’d seen something no human should ever witness, then hurried out without another word.
Evelia shrugged, checked that the thin steel strip she’d hidden between the bricks was still there, then lifted her gaze to the fist-sized window. Somehow, she would survive. She would get out.
The prisoners of Zelakent had long since turned hostile toward the woman who had crippled sixteen men.
If they came at her with fists or tried to kill her outright, she could fight back or escape well enough.
But the moment some piece of filth took a s**t in the food she’d been given, something inside Evelia snapped.
Sliding the thin steel plate between her fingers as though it were an extension of her own hand, she struck without hesitation, slashing precisely at every vulnerable spot she could reach.
Even among the monsters confined within Zelakent, it was remembered as a night of exceptional brutality. A murderer who attacked without the slightest hesitation was something even the prison’s hardened inmates could not handle.
When it was over, nine men had bled to death. Five more were left permanently crippled after their tendons were severed.
That very day, Evelia was thrown into solitary confinement.
For as many days as the people she had killed, she would receive no meals. No water for two weeks. It was a death sentence.
Driven mad by hunger, she tore at her own stunted fingernails and chewed them. Sometimes the sight of a passing insect made her eyes follow it with desperate hunger. Even then, neither the thirst nor the emptiness inside her ever eased.
She had endured everything with a single purpose. To survive. To escape that godforsaken prison called Zelakent somehow…
Just as her vision began to blur, someone slipped a cup of water and a piece of dry bread through the bars.
Before she could wonder who had given it to her — or what might have been mixed into it — Evelia devoured both the bread and the water.
“If you eat that fast, you’ll end up with the runs.”
A husky voice drifted in from beyond the cell door. Ignoring the warning completely, Evelia asked:
“Is there any more?”
Another cup of water and another piece of bread appeared between the bars.
“Just keep it down while you eat.”
“…Thanks.”
As she drained the second cup in great gulps, the man outside spoke again, his voice quieter now.
“…If my daughter were still alive, she’d probably be about your age.”
Evelia had never concerned herself with other people’s misfortunes. She was simply happy to be eating again. She didn’t even care who the person feeding her was.
“What are you planning to do with yourself?”
“Why?”
“If you quit acting so damned stubborn and started playing sweet, there are plenty of bastards in here who’d gladly kept you fed.”
“Bullshxt. I won’t live like that.”
With reluctant eyes, Evelia finished the last bite of bread before looking up at the small inspection window where one of the bricks had fallen away.
Beyond it, torch smoke drifted across the dark night sky.
“Be careful. I’ll see if I can sneak you another piece of bread tomorrow.”
“Thanks, old man.”
But that small kindness was never offered again.
Someone reported the man who had brought bread to Evelia Locke. Before the guards could even drag him away, the other prisoners beat him to death for betraying them.
Thanks to that dead man’s kindness, Evelia Locke survived. Four more days passed before she was allowed another ration.
This time, they bound her wrists. Branded too dangerous to be trusted, she was forced to eat off the floor like a dog. She didn’t care. Even food coated in dirt was better than no food at all.
‘I’ll get out of Zelakent.’
No matter what happened, Evelia Locke never let go of the fierce will to live that had carried her since childhood.
Then, not long afterward, the final contract that would change her life arrived.
“Kill the duke.”
Aside from the four-year-old heir of a count’s family, there had only ever been one person Evelia Locke had failed to assassinate.
He spoke.
“My wife, Eve.”
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