— Stop yelling, you're pissing me off!
— I'm pissing you off?! Then try being a woman like the others!
— Excuse me? Go fuck yourself. You're the one who asked me to dig that document back up!
— You're just like your daughter. Completely useless. Because of you, we're going to get caught someday.
— Leave Scarlet out of this! She has nothing to do with it!
And who do you think you are, Mr. Perfect? With your shitty orders? I'm your wife, not your servant.
— My wife? You should remember why you are. I married you for the money. I don't give a damn about the rest.
And should I remind you that you didn't want a child either?
— You're the one who gave her to me. And whether you like it or not, Scarlet is your daughter.
In the hallway, right next to the living room, Scarlet hears everything.
Her face remains frozen. She doesn't move.
She listens. She endures.
Then her father's voice rises again.
Louder.
More violent.
— Honestly, you should've aborted her if you didn't want her!
— You were the one who told me to keep her!
Scarlet closes her eyes.
She refuses to hear any more.
She's used to arguments… but never violence like this.
Never truths so sharp.
Even if her face stays cold…
those words pierce straight through her.
She returns to her room, lies down on her bed, and closes her eyes.
She remembers the old man's words.
She tries to hold herself together.
But she breaks.
Again.
One arm over her face to hide her eyes…
but the tears still slip through.
— Anyway, you and your "daughter" can both die for all I care!
The argument goes on. For a long time.
Hours.
Screams, accusations, revelations:
financial schemes, embezzlement, state secrets…
and the truth about their family, rotting from corruption.
Scarlet covers her ears.
But everything echoes too loudly.
There's no escape from those words.
She finally understands.
Her family stands on nothing but money.
And their wealth is nothing more than a lie built on betrayal.
Deeply wounded, she stands up.
Grabs a small bag.
And leaves the house silently.
Without looking back.
She never wants to set foot in that place again.
Nor in that family.
══ ✦ ══
That night, in a damp, lightless alley, Scarlet finds a spot to sit.
She — the noble daughter, raised in luxury and elegant banquets —
ends up sleeping outside, without a roof.
She doesn't sleep.
Not for a single second.
When morning comes, she walks.
Without thinking.
Without direction.
Without purpose.
For an entire week, she wanders.
No classes.
No fencing.
No messages sent.
And above all…
no one comes looking for her.
Not her parents.
Not her friends.
No one.
She finally realizes she has always been alone.
And slowly, her heart closes.
Her noble clothes grow dusty, torn.
Her white dress becomes dirty, gray, blackened.
People stare at her. Some step back.
She stops in front of a passerby.
— …could you spare a sheet of paper and a pen? she asks in a hollow voice.
— Uh… someone like you knows how to write…?
One look is enough.
Cold.
Glacial.
The man's blood freezes.
— S-Sorry! Here!
He hands her a sheet and a pen, then runs away.
Scarlet sits on a bench.
She writes a letter.
Not to ask for help.
No.
To report her own family to the government.
Her hands tremble.
Her eyes are redder than usual.
Her expression locked shut.
— Father… Mother… I'll prove my worth to you. And then… I'll make you pay.
A silent hatred burns in her gaze.
She sends the letter anonymously.
Without knowing if it will ever reach its destination.
Then she registers for Atlas's greatest fencing tournament.
The most prestigious.
The most dangerous.
A tournament…
with real weapons.