Chapter 2 : The Blade and the Rose

SOFIA POV

"I, Sofia Grace Wilson, swear an oath: to protect my identity from the eyes of outsiders. Every drop of blood, every cry torn from a throat — they are for a reason. I promise to kill and to protect, for my pride and my dignity."

The blade slices across the palm of my right hand.

Sharp. Swift.

Blood wells up, sliding between my fingers in crimson threads. My hand trembles.

"Pain is for the weak," my mother says, binding my hand tightly with a white cloth.  I wince as she pulls it hard, ignoring my flinch.

"Remember, Sofia — this is not an empty oath. This is your life. Never trust anyone, darling." She caresses my cheek with cold fingers, but no warmth follows.

"As the elder daughter, you must be strong. Resilient. That is the meaning of nobility." I lower my gaze to my hand.

Blood blooms across the cloth like a rose.

Kill and protect.

Strong and resilient.

Pride and dignity.

I come from a noble family — powerful, prestigious, but built on secrets and hidden research.

And me?

I am their blade.

Their assassin.

Forged through blood, sweat, and broken tears.

This is my life.

This is my secret.

...

...

...

I heard screaming. I barely recognized the voices — some begged for help, some pleaded for forgiveness, some threatened with rage.

It was a chorus of pain.

A nightmare.

Yes. That's it.

Nightmares.

It haunted me every single night, messing at the edges of my mind, turning sleep into a battlefield. The same dream. Over and over.

The oath. The lifetime promise that I made — to protect my family.

A family I wasn't even sure I belonged to.

Protect. Protect. Protect.

But who's going to protect me?

"Sis! Wake up!". A sharp whisper cut through the haze.

"Sis!". Owen's voice. Urgent. Loud enough to pull me back into the waking world.

I jolted upright, blinking into the dim room. "Owen?" I croaked, dragging myself out of bed. I headed toward the door where he stood, small and hesitant. I knelt down to meet him at eye level, brushing his messy hair back gently.

"You’re supposed to be sleeping at this hour," I said softly. "You’ve got school tomorrow." My hand lingered on his head, grounding both of us.

He looked down, biting his lip. Something was bothering him. "What is it?" I asked.

"I heard you're leaving..." he muttered, his little frown cutting deeper into me than he could ever know.

Oh, right.

The Wilson Estate had expanded. As the eldest daughter, it was my duty to relocate — to live on the new lands, oversee operations, build connections.

Momentarily, they said.

Maybe longer.

Maybe forever.

I didn’t even know.

"But I'm not leaving forever," I promised him, giving him the softest smile I could muster. "I’ll visit you all the time, I swear."

Owen, my younger brother — just 12 years old — too young to understand duty, but old enough to feel the weight of it.

"I hate riding horses," he mumbled, his pout unmistakable.

"You’ll grow to love it," I whispered mischievously.

"Just like you?" he asked, his eyes shining a little brighter.

"Yeah. Just like me," I said, ruffling his hair, feeling my heart tighten painfully.

"Now go to sleep, young man. You need it," I teased, giving him a playful nudge.

He nodded and shuffled back to his room, obedient and sweet, disappearing into the shadows.

But now that I was awake, there was no going back. Sleep wouldn’t come. I was tired — bone-deep tired — but my mind refused to shut down.

When would the nightmares stop?

When would I finally feel safe enough to dream of something else?

...

Hours flew by until I finally arrived at the Wilson estate. The building was new, but it had that timeless, old-classy vibe that perfectly matched our noble identity.

My butler, Harry, was with me as always. He’s been with my family for decades, assisting with almost everything — and honestly, he cared about me a lot more than he let on, which was nice in its own quiet way.

"Miss Wilson, about the royal banquet—" Harry began carefully.

"I know," I said before he could finish. "Of course I’ll attend. The princess knows I’m in the state. If I don’t show up to her wedding, it’ll make me look bad." I kept my eyes on a sheet of paper — the layout plans for the new Wilson estate.

Harry leaned in a little, lowering his voice. "You saved the princess once with your noble identity, not... the other one. A few people suspected something back then. We can erase records easily, but people's mouths—" He shook his head. "They're harder to silence."

I sighed inwardly.

Right. Years ago, I’d saved the princess without thinking — acting purely on instinct. There hadn’t been blood spilled, but still, people noticed.

They said too much. They always did. People’s mouths didn’t just talk; they stabbed, they ruined lives.

I didn’t care much for gossip. But if it tainted my family’s name — if it disappointed Father — that was another problem entirely.

This was supposed to be a new start.

A new building. A new life.

It was going to take a lot of work — but I’d make it happen.

I folded the layout paper neatly and looked up at Harry, flashing him a confident, easy smile. "Harry," I said, "tighten up the security. I’m attending tonight’s banquet."

And this time, no one was going to touch my family's name — or me.

...

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