Chapter 1: An End, and a Beginning

“To think the day would come when I would be the one caught in the snare,” he breathed, the words a wisp of vapor in the cold night air. A bitter irony twisted his lips. “My perfect record remains unbroken, but it seems my life is the price.”

Under the cloak of a moonless sky, a figure flitted through the shadowed grounds of a great estate, his movements possessing the fluid, lethal grace of a hunting panther. Yet, despite his preternatural swiftness, the man known as Yexi felt the cold hand of despair clutching his heart. The deep shadows and dense woods were a worthy veil for his flight, but his circumstances were dire.

A grievous wound in his belly bled unceasingly, a hot, wet stain spreading across his tunic. The flow was too profuse for any hasty field dressing to staunch. He was an assassin, a specter of death devoid of sentiment, whose legendary skill was matched only by the sharp, handsome lines of his face. He was, by all accounts, peerless.

And yet, tonight, the hunter had become the hunted, flawlessly deceived and cornered. His desperate flight was no bid for freedom, but a cruel indulgence granted by his foes. They knew they had him. They possessed the chilling patience of wolves circling a wounded stag, content to watch it bleed out before descending to claim their prize. The architect of this trap was brilliant. No men were wasted in futile pursuit; instead, they methodically tightened their cordon, shrinking his world, compressing the very air he had left to breathe. The moment the circle became too dense for even a man in his prime to breach, they had simply stopped, their lines holding firm as they waited for his lifeblood to drain into the cold, unforgiving earth.

It was often said that the finest swimmers are the first to drown. He had simply never imagined he would find a mark so difficult to crack. Still, the task was done. That, at least, was a sliver of solace in this grim misfortune. Even ensnared, Yexi had slain his target, preserving the legend of his flawless record.

This final, desperate act had earned him the gushing wound in his side, but inaction would have meant death all the same. Indeed, it was only because of that audacious, unexpected strike that he now had the privilege of gazing upon the pale, luminous moon one last time. But this was the end of the line. Yexi’s flight faltered, and he came to a halt, slumping against the rough bark of an ancient oak. His body, pushed beyond all mortal limits, could go no further. A masterful opponent, he conceded; not a single flaw in their encirclement had presented itself before his strength gave out. As the blood flowed, so too did his consciousness begin to fray, fading into a hazy, crimson-tinged fog.

Beams of searchlights, like captured starlight from mages’ orbs, swept through the trees and fell upon him. Vague silhouettes materialized from the gloom, surrounding him. Even now, they were a picture of grim discipline, the cold steel of their muzzles leveled, unwavering. The slightest twitch, he knew, would see him riddled with bullets. A faint, humorless chuckle escaped his lips.

Forgive me, Sister, he thought, a flicker of a memory, sharp and painful as a shard of glass, surfacing from the depths of his soul. Her face, a beacon in his world of shadows. I have died as I lived—an assassin to the very end. If by some grace I find you in the world beyond death, I will finally make my confession then.

“As expected of the assassin with a one hundred percent success rate,” a voice cut through the haze, calm and measured. “Few in this world could ever claim to be your equal.”

Oh? Is someone speaking to me? He scoffed internally. Of course. I am a professional.

“I had hoped to be the one to shatter your legend,” the voice continued, tinged with a grudging respect that was, perhaps, the highest praise of all. “It seems I was overconfident. I shall see you on your way. Farewell, my worthy adversary.”

Bang!

Yexi’s world dissolved into absolute, silent nothingness.

……

An eternity, or perhaps an instant, later, Yexi felt the slow, creeping return of awareness. It was a strange, disembodied sensation.

Strange. Was I not dead? Was it all a nightmare? The thought was absurd. Of course, a professional of my caliber would never be caught so easily. Hah.

He had been indulging in this fleeting moment of self-assurance when the biting rush of wind across his face dispelled all illusion. It was a deeply unpleasant, terrifyingly real sensation.

Is the room drafty? No, that can’t be. I only ever stayed in the finest establishments, and even when sleeping under the stars, I would never choose a place so utterly exposed.

With a monumental effort, Yexi forced his eyes open, and the gravity of his situation struck him with the force of a physical blow. He was plummeting from a cliff.

“???”

There was no time for questions. Contemplation now would only mean a second, far more humiliating, death upon impact. Wait. Below, a great lake shimmered in the distance like a fallen piece of the sky. But from this height, hitting its surface would be no different from hitting solid rock. He had to slow down.

Yexi’s eyes, honed by a lifetime of lethal observation, scanned the cliff face with desperate speed. He spotted it—a thick, gnarled branch jutting from the stone like a skeletal hand. It would never hold his weight, not with this momentum, but it might break his fall. Without hesitation, he angled his falling body, twisting through the air. The moment the branch was within reach, he shot his hand out, aiming for its sturdiest point. Yet the sensation that met his grasp was wrong. The contact area felt… small. Delicate. Far smaller than his calloused palm.

As expected, the branch snapped with a sharp crack. A searing pain shot through his arm; it was not merely dislocated but felt shattered to the bone. This shouldn’t be, he thought, bewildered. A body honed to perfection through a thousand trials should have withstood that. Something was terribly, fundamentally wrong.

Still, the buffer had worked. His descent had slowed, but it was not yet enough. Yexi pushed through the agony, using his left foot to kick off any and every protrusion he could find on the rock wall. Each impact sent a fresh wave of torment through his leg, but he did not stop. It would have to be enough. Now, at least, the lake below would receive him with water’s embrace, not stone’s finality.

He plunged into the depths with a great splash. Though one arm and one leg were all but useless, Yexi’s formidable survival instincts took over, and he swam, pushing his broken body toward the shore with grim determination.

He collapsed on the bank, utterly spent, a profound weakness seeping into his very bones. With sheer willpower, he fought off the encroaching darkness and, propping himself up, peered into the crystal-clear surface of the lake to assess his state. What he saw reflected there would have stunned a man of lesser composure. Even Yexi, a man as unshakeable as a mountain, was rendered speechless.

He—or rather, she—was now a little girl.

Her hand, now small and delicate, touched the silver hair that fanned across her shoulders like spun moonlight, dripping water onto the fine fabric of her dress. The mysteries of the past few moments clicked into place with horrifying clarity: why her body was so fragile, why her legendary stamina had vanished, why her control, once at the peak of human potential, had failed to judge the dimensions of her own hand. The answer was simple. This was not her body.

From the looks of it, this vessel was no older than eight years. And judging by the elegant cut and fine material of the drenched frock she wore, its previous owner had been a pampered young lady, a stranger to any form of physical exertion. To have commanded such a frail form to perform those extreme maneuvers was a testament to Yexi’s consciousness alone, but it had consumed a ruinous amount of energy.

A wave of dizziness washed over her. For the first time, she truly felt she had lost control. But there was no time for contemplation. Her body, having reached its absolute limit, sent an undeniable command to her brain: rest, now.

Yexi gave a wry, helpless smile. An unfamiliar world, an unfamiliar body… how could she possibly rest easy?

Yet, it seemed fate had not entirely abandoned her. Just then, the thrum of hoofbeats echoed in the distance, interspersed with the faint sound of human voices. Yexi’s eyes lit up. It was a promising sign, but caution was paramount. If they were bandits or brigands, her small frame would be a lamb walking into a tiger’s den. Summoning the last dregs of her strength, she dragged herself into a thick patch of tall grass. Yexi held her breath, waiting.

A procession appeared on the path that wound by the lakeside. Taking the lead were two knights astride large, raptor-like steeds, their scales glistening. Their bodies were clad head to toe in gleaming silver plate armor, their helms plumed and visors down, an imposing sight. Following them, seven or eight more knights flanked a carriage. Or rather, what looked like a carriage; the vehicle was drawn not by horses, but by the same saurian creatures. A wyrm-coach, then.

This was no band of mercenaries. Reassured, Yexi made her decision. She struggled to crawl out, but halfway there, her body’s functions simply ceased. Her willpower could no longer overcome her physical limits.

I hope they saw me, was Yexi’s last conscious thought as she succumbed to the darkness.

…….

When Yexi awoke again, she was lying in the softest bed she had ever known. Warm sunlight streamed through a window, bathing the room in a gentle glow. It was a simple chamber, devoid of any unnecessary clutter, suggesting it was a guest room.

She took stock of her condition. Her wet clothes had been replaced with a loose, comfortable linen tunic. Her left arm and left leg were splinted and bandaged, and the other scrapes on her body had been cleanly treated with a fragrant salve. Yexi breathed a sigh of relief. Her gamble had paid off. The travelers had saved her.

Just then, the tantalizing aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted in from outside, causing her stomach to rumble. The door creaked open, and a young maid, only slightly older than Yexi’s current body, peered in. She was quite cute, with a cheerful, rosy-cheeked face. In her hands was a tray of food. Yexi’s eyes lit up. Finally.

Upon seeing Yexi awake, the little maid’s eyes widened, her face breaking into a joyful grin. And then, to Yexi’s dismay, she turned and ran out with the tray, shouting as she went, “My Lady, she’s awake!”

Yexi reached a helpless hand toward the empty doorway, on the verge of tears. But… you could have at least left the food! I’m starving!

……

“Om, nom, nom.”

Yexi devoured the food with a desperate fervor that belied her delicate appearance. Seated gently on the edge of the bed was a beautiful and graceful woman, her expression as warm as the summer sun as she watched over her. This must be her rescuer. Standing beside her was the little maid, now staring at Yexi with wide, sparkling eyes. Yexi knew it was terribly impolite, but her intimate understanding of the body told her one simple fact: if she didn’t get nutrients into her system immediately, she would faint from hunger again.

The lady merely watched with an indulgent gaze, gently stroking Yexi’s soft, silver hair, not disturbing her until she had finished the last bite. Once the meal was over, Yexi finally took a breath. She bowed her head to the lady, her voice earnest. “Thank you for saving me.” The movement tugged at her injuries, but she bore the pain and completed the gesture of gratitude.

The lady noticed the flicker of discomfort in Yexi’s expression. “Dear child, please,” she said, her voice a soothing balm as she helped Yexi lean back against the pillows. “Your wounds have not yet healed. You must rest.”

Once Yexi was settled, the lady spoke again. “Child, what is your name? Where do you come from? My guards and I found you by the Mirrorlake, covered in wounds. Did you have an encounter with a fell beast, or perhaps bandits?”

Yexi hesitated, a bitter taste in her mouth. “I… I don’t remember my name,” she said, her voice small and trembling. “I don’t know why I was there. I can’t seem to remember anything from before.” The statement was half-truth, half-lie. She had indeed not inherited this body’s memories.

“Do you have any impression of your family?” the lady asked gently.

Yexi shook her head, affecting a look of confused sorrow. The lady seemed troubled. She had no reason to doubt the words of an eight-year-old girl, especially one whose natural features, combined with the acting skills of a master assassin, created a flawless picture of innocence.

A silence fell between the three of them. The young maid looked upon Yexi with such pure pity in her eyes that it was almost unbearable. Yexi broke the silence. “My Lady, may I make a request of you?” she began. “You have already shown me the greatest kindness, and I am deeply ashamed to ask for more. But, if it is possible… might I be allowed to work in your household as a servant? Like her.”

She gestured cautiously toward the little maid. The lady looked taken aback. Yexi’s shoulders slumped. “Is it not possible?”

“My Lady, please help her!” the maid interjected, her face alight with eagerness.

The lady shook her head. “No, of course not,” she clarified. “I would be more than happy to welcome such a lovely child into my family. But are you certain? Judging from your clothes, you may be the young mistress of a noble house.”

“But right now, this is the only way I know to support myself,” Yexi pleaded again. “And I have no way of knowing my past. I beg of you, My Lady.”

“Such a strong-willed child,” the lady said with a fond smile. “Very well. But the work of a maid is not easy.”

Yexi’s expression firmed with resolve. “I will not be lazy. I will work hard and learn.”

The lady’s smile widened. “Excellent. But first, we must give you a name. What should we call you?”

Watching the lady ponder was endearing. Yexi spoke up. “Please, call me Yexi. For some reason… that name feels very important to me.”

“Yexi? That is a lovely name,” the lady said. “Then, Yexi, welcome to the House of Trefle.” She gently pulled Yexi into an embrace, nuzzling her cheek against Yexi’s. “Mmm, so soft. Yexi-chan is just too adorable.”

“My Lady?” Yexi shifted, unused to such intimacy.

“You mustn’t move, your injuries are still fresh,” the lady cooed playfully. “Let me hold you. This is also part of a maid’s duties, you see. You’re just too cute.”

This is part of the job? Yexi glanced in confusion toward the other maid, who simply stood there with an expression that said this was perfectly normal. Noticing Yexi’s gaze, the little maid beamed, her smile like a crescent moon. “Welcome, Yexi! My name is Elienla, and I’m your senpai now!”

Seeing her puffed-up pride, Yexi guessed she had been waiting to be a ‘senpai’ for a very long time. She found the girl utterly charming. “It is a pleasure to be in your care, Senpai,” Yexi replied, her own lips curving into a sweet, genuine smile.

The smile seemed to completely win over Elienla, who began to giggle and mutter, “Hehe, Yexi is so cute! And I’m a senpai now! I’m one step closer to becoming a great Head Maid!”

A bit of an airhead, this one, Yexi thought. Feeling the warmth of the lady’s embrace, a warmth that felt like coming home to a place she’d never known, she allowed herself to relax. Her life in this strange, new world had just begun.