When I landed on my feet successfully after dangling from a tree branch for a full six minutes, I silently thanked God. I had done this alone when I was sixteen to eighteen, but it had been a while. Still, this was the most effective escape, since this part of the mansion opened directly to the backyard.

I sighed in relief, adjusted my backpack, and pulled up my hood. But just then, the sound of footsteps made me freeze. Quickly, I hid behind the tree. Under the garden light, a tall shadow appeared on the ground. First, I saw a pair of black shoes—not shiny, low-key. My gaze traveled up, and the man was unfamiliar. He had rust-colored skin and sharp, dark eyes. He wore simple black trousers and a t-shirt. Then I saw the gun at his side.