Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 178: Talia Rook

**Tiana's POV**

That was it. No name, no signature. Just two words.

The bridge man. It had to be.

I let out a slow breath. If he had wanted me dead, he would have turned me in by now. Instead, he had done the opposite. He had cleared my name, somehow shifting the murder charges onto someone else.

The question was—why?

And more importantly, what would it cost me?

I tucked the note into my sleeve and stepped back inside. The palace selection was today. Whatever game the bridge man was playing, I didn’t have time to figure it out.

Not yet.

The morning rays of the sun were barely filtering their way through the sheer curtains but it was enough for me to see. I opened up the bag I had taken from Cecilia and pulled out the most presentable dress I had.

Once I was done dressing, I practiced my manners in the mirror while mumbling directionless prayers to the moon goddess. If this man I had met at the bridge guaranteed my selection and was enough to take down the murder charges, how powerful was he really and how could I outsmart him.

We were to meet at the eastern courtyard— I remembered it quite vividly. Theo's garden was located right across it. A gnawing sensation gripped my chest as the memories from the past flooded. Annoyed, I wiped the tears threatening to fall out of the corners of my eyes.

Could I really do this? Return to the palace as a new identity to investigate my death and to find out whatever the hell Theo's father was planning.

Cecilia had mentioned that I had missed something about it, but what could I have missed that was somehow connected directly to the Alpha and then to Alpha Corvin?

The dinner played out in my head once more. Layla had been the one to make the accusation against me and she seemed to have connived with Elara. Could Elara be the link to my death as Tiana connecting to Corvin?

I shook my head.

The memories I had as Erika never portrayed Elara to be that kind of person. However, who was I to say when the time I spent with Elara was limited and memories of her were sparse.

*(*+*+*+*+*+*

I blended into the crowd of women gathered in the eastern courtyard, trying not to draw attention to myself. They were all there for the same reason - to become servants in the palace. I relaxed my posture and kept my expression neutral, careful to conceal my true identity.

This was a different kind of battle, one where I couldn't rely on my strength or fighting skills. To get inside the palace, I had to become someone else. A meek, obedient servant with no past, and no secrets.

I pulled my hood lower, obscuring my face as I observed the scene before me. The palace gates loomed ahead, guarded by watchful eyes. No one recognized me, and that was the point. I wasn't myself anymore; I was Erika. No, that's not who I was. I was now Talia Rook. Erika and Tiana were dead, for now.

But the palace was the same. Even after all this time, it hadn’t changed.

I clenched my fists.

I would get inside. I would find the truth about my death. And I would destroy whoever had stolen everything from me.

The sharp clang of staff hitting the stone courtyard silenced the murmurs. A woman stepped forward—a head steward, judging by her robes. She was tall, and bony, with narrow eyes that missed nothing.

"The palace seeks discipline, loyalty, and silence," she said, voice cold. "If you cannot follow orders without hesitation, leave now."

No one moved.

Her lips curled slightly. She gestured, and a young servant stepped forward carrying a bowl of steaming broth.

"Spill it," the steward commanded.

The girl hesitated. "But… this belongs to the Master of Records. He—"

"I did not ask for excuses. Spill it."

The girl’s hands trembled.

She was testing us.

This wasn’t about the soup. This was about obedience—about proving that we would follow orders without question.

I watched as the girl swallowed, then tipped the bowl over, spilling hot broth onto the ground.

The steward hummed in approval. "Next."

I stepped forward.

The steward’s gaze locked onto me. She studied my face for a long moment as if searching for something. I kept my breathing even.

Then she handed me a folded piece of cloth.

"Rip it," she said.

It was soft in my hands, and expensive. A noble’s handkerchief, embroidered at the edges with gold thread. A warning pricked at my instincts.

This was different.

It wasn’t just about obedience.

It was about knowing which orders were safe to obey.

If I tore this in front of everyone and it belonged to someone important, I would make an enemy before I even stepped into the palace.

But if I refused, I would fail.

The steward’s eyes glinted. She was testing something else now—whether I was stupid enough to do whatever I was told.

I bent slightly at the knee, lowering my gaze in false deference. "Forgive me, my lady. I do not have the strength to tear it. The stitching is too fine."

She raised a brow.

Then, slowly, she took the cloth back.

"Clever," she murmured.

I stepped back into the line.

I had passed.

For now.

By midday, the first selection was over. Only half of us remained. The others had been dismissed for showing hesitation, or for questioning an order.

The second test would come later in the evening.

As I lingered near the servant’s quarters, listening to the low hum of conversation, I caught something strange.

Two guards stood near a pillar, talking in hushed voices.

"The search has been called off," one muttered. "They found the murderer."

I stiffened.

"Are you sure?" the other asked. "I thought they had no leads."

"They found a witness, apparently. Someone swore they saw a man fleeing the alley that night. He confessed after a few hours in the dungeons."

A confession.

A forced one, no doubt.

I turned slightly, glancing around the courtyard.

Where was the bridge man, and why hadn't I seen him all day.