The leaden sky roared mercilessly. The rain didn't just fall; it lashed down. Gutters carried a mixture of sludge and filth through the narrow, dark alleys of the slums.

  As heavy rain hammered the wooden roofs, another sound could be heard.

  A scream.

  The long, drawn-out moans of a woman leaked out from the mud-brick walls of a small house, only to be immediately lost in the tumult of the storm. Here, no one stopped for the screams of another; pain was a part of daily life in this district.

  The house reeked of damp rot.

  The flickering light of a dying candle cast dancing shadows on the uneven walls. The luxuries of this house were summed up in a rotting wooden cupboard by the wall, a threadbare straw mat, and a clay stove in the corner of the kitchen.

  On an old mattress, its straw stuffing bursting from the seams, lay a young woman.

  Her hair, wet with sweat, was plastered to her forehead. Her one-piece, patched dress now felt heavy on her body.

  There was no one beside her.

  No midwife, no husband, not even a neighbor.

  The woman gripped the bedsheet in her fists, so hard that her knuckles turned white.

  "Aaahh..."

  She screamed again, head thrown back as tears streaked down her temples. Pain engulfed her in waves of fire—but hope burned stubbornly in her eyes. She was fighting; not for herself, but for the being who was about to enter this cruel world.

  For a suspended heartbeat, even the storm seemed to hesitate, and only the sound of rain gently hitting the roof remained. It was as if the sky held its breath to witness this miracle.

  The heavy silence of the room was broken by a new, delicate sound:

  " Waaah... Waaah..."

  The infant cried—sharp, defiant, alive—cutting through the storm like a challenge to the world itself.

  The woman, with trembling hands that had now found new strength, pulled the small, bloody creature into her embrace. The bone-crushing pain of moments ago gave way to a strange, sweet warmth.

  The woman swaddled the sheet around the infant and pressed her to her chest. Her tears dripped onto the baby's face, mingling with the blood and sweat of birth.

  The infant calmed down. She opened her eyes with effort; eyes that held a strange glint in the weak candlelight. A gaze that was oddly calm and deep, as if instead of crying, she was watching her mother.

  The woman smiled—a fragile light against the rot and darkness. She ran her rough, calloused finger over the infant's soft cheek.

  "You finally came..."

  She pressed her forehead against the infant's forehead and whispered:

  "Maria... my little angel. No matter how badly the world treats us... Mommy promises to protect you until her last breath."

  ***

  "Maria... Maria... wake up, darling."

  Her mother's voice wrapped around her sleep like a soft melody. Maria slowly opened her eyelids. The room was still dark, and the cold morning air bit at the skin of her face.

  "Get up, my daughter. I drew water from the well; come wash your face. We have to go to the Lord's farm today as well."

  Maria crawled out from under the thin blanket with sleepy eyes. When the cold water from the wooden bucket hit her face, she shivered slightly, but the sleep vanished from her head.

  Her mother, Alice, tied her worn shawl around her head and took Maria's small hand. Her mother's hand was rough and calloused, but its warmth was the whole world to Maria.

  The Lord's farm was vast and smelled of damp earth and wheat. Workers in earth-colored clothes were busy preparing their tools.

  A little further away, Mrs. Jenna, their neighbor, was sharpening her sickle. Her daughter, Ruby, who was the same age as Maria, sat on a dirt mound in her grubby, frilled dress.

  Alice waved.

  "Good morning, Jenna."

  Maria let go of her mother's skirt and ran forward with small steps.

  "Hi, Auntie Jenna!"

  Jenna gave a tired smile and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

  "Hello, Alice. Hello, little Maria. You're up early today!"

  Then she pointed to her daughter:

  "Maria, go play with Ruby. There are bread and apples in that wicker basket; eat together."

  Alice bent down and kissed Maria's forehead.

  "Don't wander away from the edge of the farm, okay? Mommy will be back soon."

  "Okay, Mommy!"

  The two little girls were busy playing. Ruby was drawing unintelligible shapes in the dirt with a stick, and Maria was trying to build a fence around it with pebbles.

  The silence of their game was broken by a sound.

  Rustle...

  The sound came from the dense blackberry bushes.

  Suddenly, the foliage parted, and a black snout with yellowed teeth emerged.

  A stray dog.

  It was thin and dirty, with wounds on its body and saliva dripping from its mouth. To an adult, it was just a battered, injured dog, but to two five-year-old girls, it was a gigantic monster.

  "Grrr! Woof! Woof!"

  The dog barked with a harsh sound and lunged.

  Ruby screamed. Her legs went weak from fear, and she fell backward onto the dirt. She just cried and covered her face with her hands.

  But Maria...

  Wasn't Maria scared? Of course, her heart beat like a sparrow's. Her legs trembled.

  But an invisible force, something etched into the depths of her soul, locked her feet to the ground.

  She didn't run.

  Maria gripped her thin stick tightly. Subconsciously, she spread her feet slightly to improve her balance. She placed herself between the dog and Ruby.

  "Get back! Bad dog!"

  The dog bared its teeth and came closer. Its gaze was locked on the food basket.

  Maria noticed the dog's gaze. In a fraction of a second, her childish brain made a decision far beyond her age.

  It's hungry. If it gets the food, it will go away.

  She quickly reached into the basket. She grabbed a piece of dry bread and threw it with all her might in the opposite direction.

  "Go eat! Go away!"

  Seeing the bread spin in the air, the dog veered off its path and ran toward it.

  Hearing the screams and the dog's barking, Alice and Jenna arrived frantically, sickles in hand.

  "Ruby! Maria!"

  The dog, having grabbed the bread, tucked its tail between its legs upon seeing the adults and the shiny sickles, and fled into the forest.

  Jenna knelt on the ground and hugged the trembling Ruby.

  "My God... Ruby, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

  "Moooommy... (sobbing)"

  Alice ran to Maria. She dropped the sickle and checked her daughter.

  "Maria? Are you okay? Did it bite you?"

  Maria still held the stick in her hand. She was panting, but she wasn't crying.

  "I'm fine, Mommy. The bad dog wanted to hurt Ruby. So I gave him bread to make him go away."

  Alice looked at her five-year-old daughter in disbelief. Then she hugged her tightly, so tight that Maria could hear her mother's heartbeat.

  Jenna, while wiping away Ruby's tears, stared at Maria with astonishment.

  "Can you believe it, Alice? Ruby was frozen with fear, but Maria... she stood up to the dog!"

  She shook her head and muttered:

  "With this courage... there is something different about this girl. It’s as if a soldier’s soul resides in this child’s body."

  ***

  Two hard winters had passed, and now Maria was seven. Her body had become toned for her age, and she was no longer that trembling toddler. She was now allowed to come to the edge of the forest to help her mother.

  Maria threw the last piece of firewood into the wicker basket. Her small hands were scratched, but she paid no mind. She spotted a tree whose branches were laden with red, juicy fruit.

  The tree trunk was smooth and slippery, but to Maria, it looked like an enjoyable challenge. She set the basket down. With a skill that was strange for a seven-year-old girl, she locked her fingers into the crevices of the bark and pulled herself up. The small muscles of her arms and legs tensed.

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  Like a wild cat, she climbed branch by branch until she reached the fruits. She picked a few of the largest ones and, with a triumphant smile, dropped them into her cloth pouch.

  "Mommy will love these."

  With a controlled jump, she came down and landed on two feet. Dust rose beneath her feet.

  The sun was hiding behind the hills.

  "I have to hurry."

  She was getting close to home. When she entered the alley, a man's loud voice broke the peace of the sunset.

  Hearing the familiar tremor in her mother's voice, Maria lunged forward. The basket of firewood bounced on her shoulder.

  In front of their house stood a middle-aged man with a protruding belly and a greasy face. The owner of the local tavern, Mr. Barlow.

  "My patience has a limit, Alice! It’s been a month. Where is my money?"

  Her mother had her head down.

  "Please, Mr. Barlow... just a few more days..."

  Maria dropped the basket on the ground. The firewood scattered. Like an arrow released from a bow, she threw herself between her mother and the giant man.

  She spread her small arms, like a bird trying to defend its nest.

  "Leave my mom alone! Get back!"

  Mr. Barlow looked down with mockery.

  "Oh, the little knight has arrived too. Move aside, brat. This is grown-up business."

  He shoved Maria with his hand, but Maria didn't budge. She had planted her feet firmly on the ground.

  Barlow sneered and shifted his gaze to Alice. A look whose meaning Maria didn't understand, but she felt it was dirty and disgusting.

  "Look, Alice... if you don't have money, there are other ways to settle your debt."

  A heavy silence filled the alley. Alice went pale. With shame, she stole her gaze away from Maria.

  "Maria... darling... you wait outside."

  Maria said with eyes welling up with tears:

  "But Mommy... he's a bad man..."

  Alice gave a trembling smile. A smile more painful than any cry.

  "It's nothing, my daughter. We have a little work. You go gather the firewood. Hurry."

  Alice turned and opened the door. With a triumphant smirk, Barlow put his hand on Maria's shoulder and pushed her aside like a nuisance.

  The door closed. The latch clicked shut — a sound that echoed in Maria’s ears like a death sentence.

  Maria remained rooted to the spot. Her gaze fixed on the cold grain of the door.

  She didn’t have the words for it, but something inside her recoiled in understanding. It understood that her mother was selling a piece of herself so a roof would remain over their heads.

  Something hot rose in her chest and had nowhere to go.

  She clenched her small fists. So hard that her nails dug into her palms.

  "Why... why am I so weak?"

  Tears cut tracks through the dirt on her face.

  She went and gathered the spilled firewood. She picked up every piece of wood with clenched anger. Then she sat by the door and hugged her knees.

  Each minute dragged, thick and suffocating, as if time itself refused to move.

  Finally, the door opened. Barlow came out. He was buttoning his shirt and whistling triumphantly, as if he had made a good deal. He didn't even look at Maria and walked away.

  Maria gently pushed the door and entered.

  The room was dark. Her mother was huddled in the corner. Her clothes were disheveled, her hair messy. Her face was wet with tears, but as soon as she heard Maria's footsteps, she quickly wiped her tears and tried to pull herself together.

  "Maria... you came?"

  She smiled, but her eyes were dead.

  Maria's suppressed sobs burst forth. She dropped the basket and ran into her mother's arms.

  "Mommy! Mommy!"

  She wept. For all the pains she didn't understand but felt.

  Alice hugged her tightly and kissed her hair. The smell of pungent male cologne was mixed with her mother's usual scent.

  "Shhh... don't cry, darling. It's over. I'm fine. Thank you for wanting to protect me, my little knight."

  They stayed in the silence of each other's embrace for a while until the trembling of their bodies subsided.

  Maria pulled back a little and sniffled. She remembered.

  She reached into her pouch and pulled out the crushed fruits.

  "Look... I picked fruit for you. They're sweet."

  Alice took the fruit. She took a bite and laughed with her mouth full, though tears still flowed from the corners of her eyes.

  "It's the most delicious fruit in the world."

  That night, they sat in the darkness and ate fruit. The fruit was sweet—too sweet for that night—but they ate it anyway, as if sweetness could bargain with memory.

  ***

  The years passed in hunger and cold. But this winter was crueler than ever.

  Alice, the mother who had always stood like a wall behind her daughter, was now flickering like a candle in the wind. It had been days since she had the strength to rise from her bed. Dry, continuous coughing had worn her out.

  Maria, with her small nine-year-old frame, carried the burden of the house. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the stove. Inside the wooden bowl was a mixture of hot water, a few forest leaves, and small potato scraps that Mrs. Jenna had secretly given her.

  Maria carried the bowl carefully and sat by her mother's bedside. She blew on the spoon.

  "Mommy... wake up. I made you soup. Eat it and you'll get better soon."

  Alice opened her heavy eyelids a crack. Her vision was blurry, but she recognized her daughter's image. She gave a lifeless smile and tried to sit up, but couldn't.

  "Thank you, darling..."

  Maria put the spoon in her mother's mouth. A thin soup that tasted more like hot water than food, but Alice swallowed it as if it were the finest banquet meal.

  "It's very... delicious... your cooking is excellent, Maria."

  The sun sank, and the room darkened until even the walls seemed to withdraw.

  Alice's breathing had turned into a rattle. Every inhale and exhale was an unequal battle. Her fever had spiked, and her forehead was like a furnace.

  Suddenly, her body locked up. Her eyes went wide, staring at the ceiling. Air wasn't reaching her lungs.

  Terrified, Maria took her mother's cold hands.

  "Mommy? Mommy! What's wrong? Speak!"

  Alice struggled. She could only whisper in a voice that was barely audible:

  "B... Brea... th..."

  Maria realized that soup and water weren't enough. This time was different. She didn't know what to do to make her mother better.

  Maria bolted out of the house like an arrow from a bowstring.

  Her bare feet pounded on the cobblestones of the alley, but she felt no pain. Only one word spun in her brain: Mommy.

  She banged on the wooden door of Jenna's house. She pounded. Pounded.

  "Auntie Jenna! Auntie Jenna, for God's sake, open the door!"

  The door flew open. Jenna appeared in the doorway wearing an apron.

  "Maria? What's wrong, child?"

  Panting, her face washed with tears, Maria said brokenly:

  " Mommy... Mommy... she's... she can't breathe! Help!"

  The color drained from Jenna's face. She turned her head inside and shouted:

  "Tony! Tony, hurry! Get the cart ready! Alice is in a bad way!"

  Without delay, she took Maria's frozen hand.

  "Don't be scared, darling... we're going. We'll take her to the doctor right now. Run!"

  When they arrived, a terrifying silence reigned in the house. The sound of the rattling chest was gone.

  Alice lay still. Her chest was no longer heaving violently. Its movements had become slow, very slow.

  Jenna frantically sat above her and checked her pulse. Her face fell.

  Maria threw herself onto her mother's chest.

  "Mommy... Auntie Jenna came... we're going to the doctor now... you'll get better..."

  Alice slowly turned her head. Her eyes had no light left, as if she were looking at a place far beyond this world.

  She raised her hand with the last particles of her energy. Maria quickly took that rough, calloused hand with both her small hands and pressed it to her face.

  Alice's dry lips moved. Her voice was a passing breeze:

  "Don't cry... my angel..."

  She took a deep breath that remained unfinished.

  "Forgive me... that I can no longer... protect you..."

  Alice's hand grew heavy in Maria's hands and fell.

  A tear slid from the corner of her half-open eyes onto her face, but The brightness in her eyes dimmed—and did not return.

  Maria clutched her and shook her with desperate insistence.

  "Mommy?... Mommy, did you fall asleep?... Mommy, answer me!"

  Jenna covered her mouth with her hand and wept. She hugged Maria from behind and tried to pull her away.

  "It's over, Maria... it's over, darling. She's at peace."

  Her scream tore through the house—and did not sound like a child’s anymore.

  ***

  Tony, Jenna's husband, was a man of few words and hard work. Without a single word, he dug a small pit in the desolate part of the cemetery. The shovel bit into the earth, over and over.

  Maria sat motionless beside her mother’s body, which was wrapped in an old white cloth.

  The cold earth covered the warm body of the mother.

  Tony put down the shovel and took off his hat to pay respects.

  Jenna put her hand on Maria's shoulder.

  "Let's go to our house, Maria. It's cold here. Sleep with us tonight."

  Maria shook her head. Her eyes were puffy and red, but her gaze was strangely steady.

  "No."

  "But darling..."

  "I want to sleep by Mommy. She gets scared alone."

  Maria lay down on the fresh dirt of the grave. She curled into a ball, as if she had gone into someone's embrace.

  Jenna wanted to insist, but Tony took her hand and nodded to let her be.

  That night, in a dark cemetery, a nine-year-old girl slept on the cold earth; unaware that tomorrow, a harsher fate awaited her.

  The pale sun cast a gray light over the crooked tombstones.

  Maria opened her eyes. Her body was stiff, and her clothes were damp. The cold had penetrated to the marrow of her bones, but the cold in her chest was worse.

  She looked at the small dirt mound in front of her.

  "Good morning, Mommy..."

  No answer came. Only silence.

  Maria rose slowly. Her knees were trembling. She was hungry, but had no appetite for food. She had to go. She had to do something. She couldn't stay there and die; her mother had asked her to survive.

  Stumbling, she left the cemetery and entered the forest, heading toward the dirt road that passed by the woods. The place where nobles or carriages usually passed. Maybe she could gather some firewood and sell it... maybe...

  Her mind was empty. Like a wind-up doll whose spring was running out, she just walked slowly.

  Maria wandered aimlessly among the ancient trees. Sunlight barely passed through the dense branches, casting long shadows on the ground.

  Suddenly, Branches snapped violently near the road. Someone was entering the forest territory hurriedly and carelessly.

  Maria stopped and pricked up her ears.

  A moment later, the thorny bushes in front of her were pushed aside violently.

  A boy her age, wearing clothes made of blue silk that had been torn by the forest thorns, stumbled into the clearing. His face was scratched, and he couldn't catch his breath from fear.

  The boy tripped over an exposed tree root and fell face-first onto the ground, right at Maria's feet. The dry leaves crushed under his body.

  The boy lifted his head. His blue eyes were full of terror. Seeing Maria, he reached his hand toward her:

  "H... Help... he's coming..."

  Before Maria could react, a large shadow fell over both of them.

  A gigantic man with his face covered in a black mask brushed aside tree branches like they were nothing and entered.

  "Think hiding in the forest will save you, brat?"

  The man advanced. His heavy boots shook the ground. His eyes locked onto Maria, who stood like a small, dirty statue between him and his prey.

  "Get lost, dirty rat!"

  The man delivered a heavy backhand strike to Maria's face to get her out of the way.

  The blow was so hard that Maria's weak, starving body was tossed into the air like straw.

  Maria was thrown backward violently.

  CRACK!

  Her head slammed hard against the rough trunk of an oak tree.

  Pain...

  An explosive, blinding pain twisted in her skull.

  The world went black before her eyes. A continuous ringing sound echoed in her ears.

  Darkness.

  It was cold... just like the abandoned warehouse.

  No... like the cemetery.

  Wait. Where am I?

  She could hear Alice's voice in her mind:

  "Forgive me that I can't protect you..."

  Alice's voice fused with another voice — David's:

  "Goodbye, Senpai."

  Two voices. Two memories. Two lives.

  Like two rushing rivers colliding..., memories detonated in her mind.

  The smell of gunpowder... the smell of watery soup.

  The sound of gunfire... the sound of her mother's lullaby.

  Black suit... muddy rags.

  Elmira... Maria...

  BOOM!

  The dam broke.

  Memories of 31 years of life, combat experience, military tactics, David's betrayal, the pain of the bullet... everything returned like a flood and combined with the pain of losing Alice.

  The dizziness slowly faded away. The tears stopped mid-breath.

  It was replaced by something colder, harder, and sharper.

  A purpose.

  The surrounding environment was no longer just a "forest"; it was now an " operational area." The trees were "cover," and the shadows were "concealment."

  The masked man smirked and loomed over the boy.

  He bent down and reached his large, rough hand like a vulture's talon toward the collar of the boy's silk shirt.

  "Enough running. The Boss wants you alive, so I have to take you with me."

  The boy pulled himself back on the dry leaves and closed his eyes. There was no escape.

  But before the man's fingers could reach the boy...

  A faint rustle came from the oak tree.

  Someone was getting up.

  The man paused. His hand stopped in mid-air, and he looked to his side out of the corner of his eye.

  The slum girl who should have been knocked unconscious or had her neck broken by that blow was getting up.

  But... the atmosphere had changed. The forest had suddenly gone silent.

  Maria rose. Warm blood flowed from the gash on her forehead, painting half her face red, but she didn't even blink.

  There was no trace of that innocent, weeping look from a few moments ago.

  Her shoulders were no longer slumped; her body had taken a stance. Her feet were firmly planted at a precise angle on the tree roots.

  The masked man unconsciously pulled his hand back and stood up straight. The hair on his body stood on end. His criminal instinct warned him. That little girl's eyes...

  They weren't the eyes of a nine-year-old child.

  They were the icy eyes of a veteran predator who had locked onto its prey.

  Maria wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand. Her gaze scanned the forest environment: dense trees, uneven ground, thick shadows... my playground.

  With a voice that was too cold, deep, and calm for her childish larynx, she whispered:

  "Status Red. Protection Protocol activated."

  The man asked with confusion and anger:

  "What are you babbling about, kid? Get lost before I crush you!"

  Maria tilted her head slightly. Her gaze was locked like a laser on the man's movements.

  "I said... step away from my client, amateur."