After finishing her meal and having all that tough conversation. Elviana went to her room and lay down on her bed.
Elviana's thoughts swirled like storm clouds. Lady Thornweald's presence gnawed at her mind, but she could do nothing without any leads as she grew more and more curious.
After some minutes, someone knocked on her door. It was Rossa, the inn keeper.
As she went towards the door to open it for Rossa, the door slightly opened itself. Elviana's heart stopped for a second, a slight cold breeze gave her chills on her face. Before she could say anything. Rossa entered her room carrying a tray with a steaming cup. Her smile was gentle, familiar — the same smile that had made Elviana lower her guard since they met.
"You've been restless," the innkeeper said softly. "Drink this. It will help."
Elviana hesitated, then accepted. "Rossa you should've told me that you were gonna come to my room. I almost had a heart attack. Well I guess it's okay if it's you, cause I trust you." Then she took a sip from the cup.
Rossa's eyes flickered. "Oh Elviana... and that trust... is why this hurts." Rossa smiled very creepily.
The bitter taste hit her tongue, and her vision blurred. She staggered, the cup slipping from her hand. "W–what… did you…?"
Rough hands seized her. Mercenaries emerged from the shadows, iron shackles clamping around her wrists.
Rossa started laughing maniacally: " Oh this is what I love about arrogant noble people, thinking they could understand us, sneaking into our world and help us. They are so naive. Ahh... just look at yourself, those beautiful royal blue eyes... I will be selling you for a very high price."
Elviana's heart twisted. "You… are selling me?" You-you... how could...
Rossa stepped aside. "Take her away."
Dragged from the inn, Elviana was thrown into a carriage bound for the city. The iron shackles bit into her wrists as the wheels rattled over uneven stone. Her captors spoke in hushed tones, their words sharp enough to cut through the haze in her mind.
"She'll fetch a fine price," one muttered. "The patron's been searching for someone like her," another replied. "Someone rare and she obviously have the royal blue eyes."
Elviana's stomach twisted. Sold… like property.
The carriage finally stopped before a towering estate on the outskirts of the city. Its gates loomed high, gilded yet cold, guarded by men whose eyes held no warmth. She was dragged inside, past marble halls and tapestries that seemed to watch her every step.
At the end of the corridor, a chamber opened into shadow. A man sat upon a high-backed chair, his rings glinting in the lantern light. His smile was thin, predatory.
"So this is the girl," he said, voice smooth but laced with hunger. "The one whispered about. The one who fell through time."
Elviana's heart pounded, but her gaze did not falter. "You bought me," she spat. "Like cattle."
The patron chuckled. "Bought? No. Acquired. You should be honored. I collect only the finest. And you… you will serve me."
He gestured, and the guards shoved her forward. Chains clattered against the floor.
But betrayal had carved steel into her spirit.
Elviana straightened, fury burning through the fog. "I serve no one."
The patron's smile faltered. "Defiance? In chains?"
With a sudden surge, Elviana twisted her shackled wrists, channeling the strength she had hidden. The iron cracked, splintering under her force. Gasps filled the chamber.
The guards lunged, but she moved like lightning. A kick sent one sprawling, a strike dropped another. The patron rose, panic flashing across his face as his "rare acquisition" became his doom.
The patron stumbled back, powerless before her wrath. His jeweled rings clattered to the floor as he tried to crawl away, but Elviana's shadow fell over him like a storm.
"Hey, why are you running away from me," she said, voice low and steady. "Didn't you wanted me."
Her final strike sent him collapsing against the chair, unconscious, his empire of cruelty undone in a single moment.
Silence filled the chamber. The guards lay scattered, the air heavy with the scent of fear. Elviana stood alone, breathing hard, her wrists raw where the shackles had snapped.
Then she saw it — a leather-bound notebook lying half-hidden beneath the patron's desk. Its cover was worn, edges frayed, but the pages inside were filled with meticulous notes: names, places, transactions.
She flipped through quickly, her eyes narrowing.
Lists of people bought and sold.
Records of secret dealings with nobles and merchants.
Mentions of "the Royal Academy" and "military recruitment."
One entry caught her breath: "Potential candidates with unusual gifts are to be delivered discreetly. The military pays well for rare talent."
Elviana's hands tightened around the book. So that's why I was taken. Not just for profit… but because someone in power is searching for people like me.
She tucked the notebook under her arm, stepping over the fallen patron. The estate's doors loomed ahead, and beyond them, the city waited.
As she crossed into the night, a chill brushed her neck. A shadow lingered at the edge of the courtyard — tall, indistinct, watching. It did not move, did not speak. Only observed.
Elviana's grip tightened on the notebook. Another buyer? A spy? Or something worse? She forced herself forward, refusing to give the figure the satisfaction of hesitation.
The pulsed lamps flickered in the distance, their faint glow due to her presence, a reminder that she is different and very far away from home and that she can trust no one in this new world.
Then, behind her, a sudden roar split the night. She turned sharply.
The estate was ablaze. Flames clawed at the sky, devouring marble and silk alike. Smoke billowed upward, thick and black, blotting out the stars.
Elviana froze, shock rippling through her. The shadow… did they set it aflame? But why? To erase the evidence? Or...
Her mind raced. The notebook in her arms suddenly felt heavier, more dangerous. If the fire consumed everything inside, then she alone carried the patron's secrets — records of nobles, mercenaries, and dealings with the military.
Curiosity gnawed at her, but instinct told her to move on. She turned away from the inferno, her steps steady, her resolve unbroken.