Chapter 4

The sound of the door opening shattered the silence of the room.

Lyria lifted her head at once.

She was still seated on the bed, her wrists bound in front of her, her body stiff from tension and a sleepless night. Morning light streamed more strongly through the high window now, illuminating the room with a clarity that brought no comfort.

It was not the knight who entered first.

It was her.

A young woman dressed in fine fabrics of soft colors, her hair carefully arranged, her posture revealing breeding and education. Every movement was controlled—elegant, practiced since birth.

She took only two steps into the room… and stopped cold.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

The air seemed to leave her lungs.

Before her, bound, disheveled, dressed in humble clothes and marked by exhaustion, stood someone who should not exist.

It was like staring into a cruel mirror.

“No…” Elinor whispered. “This is not possible.”

Lyria stared back with equal intensity.

She had never seen a noble lady this close before. The flawless skin, the softness of her hands, the perfect fall of her dress… and yet—

That face.

Her face.

“Who…?” Elinor began, her voice trembling.

“A blasphemy,” the knight interrupted as he entered, closing the door behind him. “Or a miracle. Depending on how you see it.”

Elinor turned to him, shaken.

“What does this mean?” she demanded. “Why does she look like me?”

Lyria swallowed hard. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She had never felt so exposed.

“Look at her,” the knight said. “Look carefully.”

Elinor obeyed, stepping closer, unable to look away. Every insult she had ever heard about her appearance, every comparison, every criticism… returned now like a blow.

It was like seeing herself stripped of all privilege.

“She’s…” Elinor shook her head. “She’s identical.”

“So I thought,” the knight replied. “That’s why I brought her.”

Lyria spoke for the first time.

“If you’re going to mock me, then finish it,” she said firmly. “I don’t understand what this is.”

The knight turned toward her.

“This is not a game.”

Then he looked at Elinor.

“She was sent by the gods,” he declared. “To save you.”

Elinor stepped back.

“Save me… how?”

The knight did not give her time to settle into her fear.

“The king has accepted your presentation. You know what that means.”

Elinor clenched her hands.

“Concubine,” she whispered. “Locked away. Forgotten.”

“Exactly.”

“This is madness,” she said. “If this is discovered, my family will fall into disgrace. We could lose our titles… our lands… even our lives.”

“And what life awaits you otherwise?” he shot back. “That of a woman shared by a demon?”

Elinor paled.

She looked back at Lyria.

The poor girl did not look like a blessing.

She looked like a sentence.

“I have no choice,” Elinor murmured.

“You never did,” the knight replied. “But now you can choose something better.”

Elinor closed her eyes briefly.

“And her?” she asked at last, pointing at Lyria. “What will become of her?”

Silence thickened.

Elinor studied her more closely now, as if truly seeing her for the first time.

“Tell me something,” she said. “Are you a virgin?”

Lyria felt her stomach twist.

“What…?”

“Answer me.”

“I…” she hesitated. “I don’t understand why—”

“Answer her,” the knight ordered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Lyria looked at him, terrified.

“Yes,” she said at last. “I am.”

Elinor exhaled slowly.

“Good.”

Lyria lifted her gaze, confused.

“What will happen to me?” she asked. “Will you sell me? Give me away?”

This time, the knight answered clearly.

“You will take her place.”

Lyria blinked.

“Her… place?”

“As Lady Elinor Avelaine of Valmere,” he continued, “legitimate daughter of Lord Cedric of Valmere, heir to House Valmere, who will be presented to His Majesty as a candidate.”

The words fell one after another—heavy, incomprehensible.

“For how long?” Lyria asked, her voice barely audible, though a thousand other questions burned inside her.

The knight hesitated.

Elinor answered for him.

“Forever.”

Lyria shook her head.

“No… that doesn’t make sense.”

Elinor stepped closer, fixing her with a steady gaze.

“From today onward, your life no longer belongs to you,” she said. “Neither does mine.”

“Then… how do I get it back?” Lyria whispered.

Elinor held her gaze.

“Only if I decide so.”

The world seemed to collapse beneath Lyria’s feet.

“I don’t understand…”

“You will,” the knight said. “Because your life has just changed.”

He stepped closer, his voice firm as he declared:

“You are no longer a peasant.

You are no longer a nobody.”

A final pause.

Heavy. Absolute.

“From this moment on, you are Lady Elinor Avelaine of Valmere… candidate to become the Demon King’s bride.”

Silence followed.

And within it, the last shadow of the girl who had once been Lyria… died.