Sitting inside the bathing tub, Emma let out a long breath.
She had healed her wounds, but a few scars would still remain.
She wasn't too worried about that. The only man who would ever see those scars didn't care about them.
What troubled her instead was the way she had fought that devil back then.
Had she really grown so rusty over the past two years that she needed to start from zero?
No. That wasn't it. Emma knew exactly what had gone wrong.
It was negligence. A lack of battle awareness.
Some things cannot be learned just by hearing about them. They can only be forged through experience, through living them firsthand.
Both William and Emma came from prominent families, yet the way they were raised was strikingly different.
Emma grew up in a sheltered household. Her father always made sure she had some form of backup whenever she faced danger.
