"The injuries are fine. Nothing serious."

A blurry voice drifted into her ears, and Evangeline Stormwell, lying on the ground, frowned without meaning to.

Cold wrapped around her whole body. Wind brushed past her skin, carrying the sharp scent of blood with it, raising goosebumps all over her. A jolt of alarm ran through her heart. Wasn't she dead?

The last sound she had heard before blacking out had clearly been a gunshot tearing through her abdomen, wet and brutal.

And now, sharp by nature and wary to the bone, she tried to open her eyes, only to find she simply could not.

"Young Master, about this young lady..."

Someone was speaking near her ear. Evangeline could feel dampness in the wind, thick and sticky with moisture. The grass and stones beneath her dug into her painfully. Her abdomen really did seem injured. Her arm burned as if on fire, and every breath sent stabs of pain through her chest.

"Take her back."

"Yes, sir."

Who was talking?

Evangeline's brows drew together in vigilance. Her hand moved instinctively toward her waist, feeling around for a long while, but she found no weapon at all.

Her heart tightened. Had the mission failed? Had she been captured?

Just as that thought crossed her mind, a flash of white burst in her head. Evangeline frowned. In the fragments of memory, a carriage was racing forward, and behind it seemed to be two elderly figures growing farther and farther away, crying out as they sent her off.

A sharp pain stabbed through her mind, and broken images kept surging up.

Bright red blood splashed across the carriage curtain. A sword piercing her abdomen. Countless men in black. The world tilting and spinning. And a... handsome man's face?

Then everything went dark again. He was the last person she had seen.

Evangeline skimmed through those scenes in a blur, her brows locked tight. She still did not fully understand what had happened, but she desperately wanted to force herself awake.

Only her eyelids felt as if they had been glued shut. No matter what she did, they would not open.

Then suddenly, an icy hand touched her chest.

That cold sensation pressed through her clothes against her skin, and Evangeline snapped awake at once. A heavy sense of danger crashed over her. Her eyes flew open, and she flipped up almost on instinct, sweeping out a hard kick.

The man abruptly withdrew his hand, turned his head to avoid her strike, and lightly tapped the top of her foot with his fingertip, neatly blocking the force of her kick. Then he stood before her with his hands behind his back, lips pressed together ever so slightly.

The man wore a broad hat that shadowed most of his face. Evangeline Stormwell couldn’t make him out clearly. The instant she kicked out, she reflexively looked at him, but all she caught was his eyes—cold as a winter spring, sharp and clear, carrying a chill that seemed to seep straight into her bones.

There was something strange about him, a pressure that rolled off his body and pressed down on her so hard she could barely breathe.

A faint golden light flickered at his fingertips. The glow fell into his eyes, and in that reflection, Evangeline saw her own face—a young girl of fifteen or sixteen, delicate and soft-featured.

That was not her.

The sudden movement pulled at the wound in her abdomen. Pain exploded through her body so fiercely that her vision blurred. Warm blood instantly soaked through her clothes and streamed down in thick rivulets.

This was not a place Evangeline knew.

And this man was dressed in wide-sleeved ancient robes.

She had… crossed over.

Without showing it on her face, Evangeline quietly swept her gaze around. She seemed to be in a forest. Night had nearly fallen, and only the torches in the hands of the few men before her cast a dim, wavering light over the area. Not far away, several corpses lay sprawled on the ground.

Bit by bit, she sorted through what was in front of her. She drew in a deep breath. Her head, dizzy from pain, was only now beginning to clear.

She was shaken beyond words, but the huge wound in her abdomen hurt so badly that cold sweat poured down her back. She had no time to think about anything else. She only stared at the people in front of her with full alertness.

That cold man looked like their leader.