The Spy Heiress

Fever Dream

Drops of water began to pour from the skies, creating a somber ambiance in the alleyway. Amidst the shadows cast by the closed shops, visibility was severely limited, and Restia had narrowly avoided tripping moments ago. Exhausted and recognizing the danger of the slippery pavement, she sought refuge behind a foul-smelling dumpster, deciding it was best to rest for a while. She hoped the silver-haired man had not managed to trail her, but she caught the sound of heavy footsteps. After several seconds, they ceased, only to be replaced by the patter of the rain.

Crouching beside the dumpster, she found herself frozen in place, tightly shutting her eyes and holding her breath as she sensed a stranger's presence drawing near. Fear paralyzed her as she remained hidden, her senses on high alert.

"Where is he?" a voice pierced the air, suggesting the presence of others nearby. Yet, she dared not reveal herself, fearing it might be him or his companions she sought to evade. Desperate to avoid detection, she covered her mouth and nose to ward off the overpowering stench of garbage.

"Find him. We can't afford to let anyone get hold of that fool. The Duchess will have our heads," another voice urged urgently, sending a shiver down her spine at the mention of the familiar title.

"The Duchess? Duchess Jarvinen?" she pondered silently, straining to catch any further snippets of conversation amidst the relentless rain.

"W-watch out!"

An azure burst of flames erupted in the air, illuminating the area around it.

Her gaze shifted towards the two unfamiliar men, previously engaged in conversation, now huddled on the ground, desperately evading the blazing orb hurtling towards them. A surge of bewilderment swept over her as she pondered the chaos unfolding in the dimly lit alleyway. "Who are they?" Her thoughts raced as she clung to the relative safety of the dumpster, hoping fervently to avoid being engulfed by the flames.

As one of the two men rose to his feet, he extended his hand, employing a subtle gesture that caused scattered heaps of garbage to shift abruptly in a different direction. Her gaze followed the trajectory of the manipulated debris, and there, amidst the rain-soaked alley, she glimpsed him: a figure with dampened silver hair, conjuring flames once more. The fire blazed fiercely, a stark contrast against the surrounding darkness, seemingly impervious to the downpour. Heat washed over her face as she observed the garbage incinerating, transforming into ash and smoke.

"You dare throw that garbage at me?" the silver-haired man declared, his eyes shimmering with an ominous intensity. His patience wore thin with the onslaught of objects hurled his way. She couldn't help but recall her actions from earlier, reflecting that at least she had thrown him something edible and tasty amidst the chaos.

"And what if I do, you bastard?" the man, who seems to be able to move objects, retorted, his tone laced with mockery. He propelled yet another mound of refuse skyward with another flick of his wrist. However, the silver-haired man effortlessly obliterated them with flames.

"Take some more!" the man offered, as he persisted in hurling foul-smelling garbage toward the silver-haired individual. Restia's frustration grew palpable as she realized his actions threatened to unveil her concealed position. Only a handful of garbage piles remained to hide her whereabouts. And she lacked any magical abilities to defend herself against them.

With a measured stride, the silver-haired man advanced toward the two men, his icy gaze piercing through the tension-laden air. "You think I have time for this?" he asserted, withdrawing a stunning sword from the sheath concealed beneath his cloak. The blade, exquisite in its craftsmanship, was gracefully slender, yet its edges gleamed with a dangerous sharpness. Its surface radiated a brilliant, almost ethereal glow, evoking a sense of imminent danger. Adorned with vibrant jewels, the hilt added a regal touch to the weapon's formidable presence. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched in awe. With a deft motion, the man ignited flames in his palms, enveloping the sword in a fiery embrace. The blade became a blazing beacon, its bluish-white flames dancing with a mesmerizing intensity, casting a fiery halo around its wielder.

The two men stood frozen, their expressions contorted with fear as they beheld the blazing weapon. Panic etched across their features, rendering them momentarily speechless. Without a word, they stumbled hastily from their positions. "R-run!" one of them exclaimed, his voice trembling with urgency as he bolted away. It took a few seconds for the other to grasp the gravity of the situation before he too broke into a frantic sprint.

Following their departure, the silver-haired man's mysterious companion, whom Restia had bumped into earlier, emerged unexpectedly from the shadows, bearing the weight of the man they had been pursuing earlier draped over his shoulders. The man appeared unconscious.

"We have to go now," he urged the silver-haired man, a sense of urgency evident in his voice.

As the rain intensified, cascading in torrents, the silver-haired man cast a lingering glance toward a heap of garbage, his gaze piercing through the deluge as if drawn to something hidden within. Restia's heart leaped into her throat, her senses electrified with a sudden adrenaline rush.

"Did he see me?" she wondered silently, her sweat chilling her skin more than the icy raindrops.

"What is it?" his companion questioned, puzzled by his lingering gaze upon the refuse.

"Nothing," he replied. With a swift motion, he extinguished his flaming sword, and together they strode away from the dumpster, disappearing into the murky depths of the alley, swallowed by the enveloping darkness.

After arriving home drenched from the relentless rain last night, she awoke to find her temperature soaring. Despite the lively atmosphere within the manor in anticipation of the upcoming celebration, Restia feels depleted of energy as she battles a raging fever. Despite faithfully adhering to her homemade herbal remedy regimen, it seems that complete recovery will necessitate several additional days.

As she lay in bed, her mind drifted back to the chaotic events of the previous night in the dark alley. The image of the silver-haired man and his mysterious cloaked companion lingered, accompanied by memories of the unconscious figure they carried. Moreover, the conversation she overheard between the two men discussing a duchess only added to her confusion. Amidst her feverish haze, she found herself grappling with a multitude of unanswered questions. The pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together, leaving her mind in a whirlwind of uncertainty.

Since last night, she has been intermittently sleeping, each time awakening with a throbbing headache, compelling her to return to slumber. Her dreams have been varied, yet at this juncture, she finds herself repeatedly envisioning a white majestic bird resting upon a lifeless tree. With blood-red eyes piercing through the darkness, it uttered her true name in a haunting whisper, a name that had long been absent from her ears, evoking a sense of distant familiarity that sent shivers down her spine.