Chapter 5

• For years, I drifted from place to place, never staying anywhere long enough to settle. The wolves who once pursued me had vanished, but my unease remained. I rarely allowed myself to remain in one spot for more than three months, ever on the move, constantly aware of the dangers lurking behind me.
• The nomadic lifestyle wasn’t without its challenges, particularly when it came to earning money. I had no identity to speak of, no credentials, no formal education, and I wasn't in a position to claim any sort of recognition. So, I did what I knew best—I found a way to make money from behind the curtain. I created an anonymous online business offering investment advice. It was a skill I had honed for years, an innate talent for predicting market trends that had earned me the praise of my former teachers, who often called me a genius in the field.
• But finance wasn’t the only thing I excelled at. I was a quick study, capable of mastering any subject if I put my mind to it. The issue wasn’t my abilities, though—it was the way my so-called family had bound me. I was never allowed the chance to earn a proper degree. Instead, my education was confined to the walls of St. Augustine’s College, following my years at St. Augustine’s High School and the orphanage bearing the same name. The situation between me and my family was, to put it mildly, unusual.
• There was no warmth in my childhood. In fact, I often wished I hadn’t had a living family at all, that I could have been adopted like any other orphan. But the most maddening part was that I wasn’t allowed to be adopted. I couldn’t fathom how that could be possible until one day I discovered that my estranged father was, in fact, the founder of St. Augustine’s orphanage. That revelation shattered the illusion that I had ever been raised; I wasn’t being cared for, I was being watched.
• Looking back, I now see that everything was better than living like a prisoner. My life on the run, though filled with uncertainty and constant vigilance, was infinitely preferable. Seven years had passed since I began my escape, and I had come to terms with the fact that my freedom came at a price. If running was what I had to do to stay free, I would gladly continue paying it.
• Building my online business wasn’t easy. Without a name, degree, or any official recommendation, I began by sending unsolicited advice to businessmen, CEOs, and company presidents. I offered them one piece of advice, free of charge, and waited. When my predictions proved accurate, many of them became clients. They would email me problems to solve, and I would always respond, analyzing their situations from the comfort of my anonymous existence. I kept changing my email address every month to remain elusive, and though I never met any of my clients in person, my reputation grew.
• It didn’t take long for my earnings to grow as well. But, as always, there was a limit to what I could enjoy. I couldn’t afford to live openly, not without drawing attention. Still, I wasn’t in the slums anymore, nor was I working in a coffee shop. I could afford better clothes, designer pieces, but I only bought what was necessary. The one indulgence I allowed myself was a black coat, the one my silver-haired knight had left me, still hanging in my closet.
• I hadn’t seen him in three years, but he lingered in my thoughts. He had been my savior in a way no one else ever had been. There was something surreal about his protection, and not just because he was stunningly handsome. In my life, only one person had truly cared for me—Oberon, the man who had called himself my mother's friend. He had been my teacher, my confidant, and the only father figure I’d ever known. He had sacrificed himself so I could escape, and though we’d lost contact, I still held on to the hope that he was alive. Oberon was the only person who ever reached out to me. Not even my so-called family had cared for me in any meaningful way.
• By the time I turned 27, it was early autumn. I had just finished an assignment for a client, the numbers and figures still dancing in my mind, but I needed a break. I always ran a few miles to clear my head, but tonight, something pushed me further. I ran with no particular destination in mind, driven by an urge I couldn’t explain, until I found myself on an empty road, the city lights behind me now a distant memory. It was dark, but the moon was high, guiding me as I kept running.
• Then, I saw the flashing lights. As I got closer, I realized it was a car, crashed into a tree, smoke rising from under the hood. My heart raced.
• "Hello! Does anyone need help?" I called out cautiously, drawing closer to the wreckage.
• There was no reply. I peered through the shattered window to find a man slumped behind the wheel, unconscious, blood covering his face.
• "Please don't be dead, don't be dead..." I muttered under my breath, scrambling to open the door. It was stuck at first, but after some effort, I managed to pry it open. As soon as I saw him, my breath caught in my throat.
• "Silver-haired knight..." I whispered, panic flooding my chest.
• Blood pooled from his nose, lips, and even his eyes, but there were no other obvious injuries. My hands shook as I reached for his pulse. Just as I was about to make contact, his cold hand seized mine.
• I gasped, pulling back, my heart hammering in my chest. His bloodshot eyes opened slowly, locking onto me with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.
• "Phone..." he murmured, his grip tightening.
• "Y-your phone?" I stammered, still in shock.
• He nodded weakly, tossing my hand aside.
• "I-I have mine. I can call an ambulance—"
• "No," he cut me off. "My phone... fast."
• I hesitated, looking at him, still strapped into the seatbelt. "You’re still wearing your seatbelt, maybe I should—"
• "Phone!" His voice was sharp, demanding, even though he looked on the verge of death.
• I didn't argue. I leaned over, searching the dark car for his phone. It wasn’t easy, trying to find a black object in a black car, but after what felt like an eternity, I spotted it on the passenger floor. My hands trembled as I grabbed it and turned back to him.
• "Hey! Don't fall asleep! I found it!" I yelled, but his eyes fluttered shut.
• I pressed the phone into his hand, but then he started coughing violently, blood spilling from his lips. I cringed, unsure of what to do. I knew I had to get him out of the car, but he was growing weaker by the second.
• Without asking, I undid his seatbelt.
• "Get away!" he suddenly shouted, startling me.
• I stumbled back. "I’m trying to help you!" I shot back, frustration building.
• "Call... Gareth. Tell him... where..." His voice faded, and his eyes closed again.
• I leaned over him, watching his chest for signs of movement. There was nothing. My heart dropped. I could feel my panic rising.
• "I knew I should have called the damn ambulance," I muttered, clutching the phone in my hand.
• Then an idea hit me. Maybe Gareth was his doctor, the one person who could help. I quickly unlocked his phone with his cold finger and found a contact labeled "Gareth." Without thinking twice, I pressed dial.