The daughter never wanted to forget her mother or her death. Not even once. No matter how painful and hurtful it may have been, she did not try to get rid of the pain that built up as the years went by. Forgetting about her mother was the same as forgetting about her roots — it was the same as her being completely separated from something that she had wanted since she was born.

However, as soon as she woke up from her sleep, the princess knew instinctually that the time had come.

Now.

The palace was busy even before the sun was up. The delicious scent of flowers was flowing through the air and fancy music was playing. Making energizing noise, the servants were moving busily back and forth.

Everyone was preparing to welcome the leader of the continent; the devil of the war; the monster with red eyes; the heir of the dragon; the owner of the gray palace. The one who everyone respected yet feared, and who everyone was proud of yet scared of — it was the return of the king.

It was time for the princess to forget about the root of life. She wouldn’t have lived if she knew things were going to be like this. She knew that God had abandoned her. All the things she’d known seemed especially cruel today.

The king who all the countries adored was going to invite the princess to supper.

And then to his room.

And then to his bed…

Her thoughts cut off as she grabbed her comforter tightly. However, it did not help her stop shivering as if she had just gotten out of freezing water. Although the room was filled with warmth, she could not control her body, just like a thin branch against a strong wind.

The princess tried to get up with her hand, but then she gave up after she kept pushing her own hair down. She tried again, then gave up again. The sound made her look pitiful. As if laughing at its owner, her hair fell onto the bed miserably. A deep sigh filled the room then disappeared. The princess laid on her side and rolled her legs up all the way to her waist, rounding her body like a caterpillar. She mumbled like a stutterer.

<>

The princess shut her eyes.

Scene 1: The Meeting

“Your highness, it is time to go.”

She raised her hands the way a butterfly opens its wings. The princess slowly stood up after she waved at the servant who came to take her. She had purple hair with a hint of pink and it was gently brushed by her servants. Her dress, with golden flower embroidery, was slightly dragged on the floor. On the floor, a carpet colored with red, brown, yellow, and dark green was laid. The princess already knew that it was a luxury import from a different continent.

Not only the carpet, but also the paintings on the wall, the ceramics and decorations around the room, the dressing room and the bathroom within this big room, the bed with elaborate lace, and red curtains by the window were all dazzling. It had been about ten days since she had been covered in this splendor, and all the red and gold that her eyes were catching was giving her a headache.

This was the palace of the king, Ottoinette. Although the war was over, things that the princess received from enemy countries were limited. She was not going to show her real thoughts to anyone that easily.

The hallway that she walked out to also was filled with splendor. In the hallway with a bunch of gold sticking on the wall, she moved with gentle steps.

She was the princess from Skara, who was staying in Monterobis. Her name was Ashite-Ploca. In this palace full of fame and luxury, not a single soul was looking for her here.

Even in her palace back home, Ashite had to remind herself of her own name once in a while so as to not forget it. No one was calling her name. That was how her country was and that was how her palace was, and that was also why Ashite was pushed to Monterobis without anyone taking care of her. The king kicked Ashite out as if he had been waiting for that moment.

Since she left her country after the war, she never left her room in this palace. In the past ten days, she was only breathing and barely eating, just enough for her to continue her own life.

The king never looked for her.

It was said that the king has not returned to the palace yet. The king’s response to the princess’s arrival was cold.

“I shall invite you to the supper right as I arrive at the palace,” he said.

Not knowing when that day would be — the day that would suffocate her — she was not able to swallow any food. She did not feel any hunger. All she could do was curl up on her bed.

To be frank, she was expecting to spend a disgusting, nasty time on the king’s bed on the night she arrived at the palace. No one dared to call her the king’s trinket in either Skara or Monterobis, but there were things that the princess could understand without being directly told. One such thing was the destiny of a captive from a country that lost a war, especially if that captive was a powerless, poor lady like herself. Obviously, she was going to end her own life before having to spend a night like that.

But there was something that she needed to do, a task that was grabbing onto her. That’s why she had a lingering attachment to her life; there was that one thing that she tried to push away yet could not, left on her mind like an old scar.

Nevertheless, she would rather die than become a trinket.

Since the servants were worried that she would leave scars on her body, not a single piece of cutlery was given to her in the past ten days. She could not attempt to kill herself, or even try to harm herself. However, now, during this supper where she would meet the king for the first time, it might have been possible.

For her entire life, she never wanted anything more than peace, but the heartless God was not willing to listen to her prayer. That’s why she ended up here. Just for that one thing that she wanted, she gave up everything else, killed everything else, and hid everything else — and she ended up being a captive. What else would she be other than a captive when her life was in the king’s hand?

Now that the king was back in the palace and had invited her over, she knew that she would die after a life of being his trinket. She would rather end her own life.

<>

Ashite stopped thinking. She felt like her brain was not functioning anymore. She acknowledged her stupidity. There was no way. She was a powerless princess from a powerless country.

A princess. The word made her laugh.

It was just a name. She could not expect a thing wearing just a thin veil called “princess.” There was only one thing she could do.

At this supper, her first time meeting the king, she would make the king aim his knife at her.

Ashite looked at the big, round table that was in front of her. Not a single thing was fancy in the dining room, but the round table was made of high-quality wood with curved patterns and covered with a golden tablecloth. On top of it, various kinds of seafood, steaming dishes, and other colorful foods were there. They were all mouth-watering, but not for her. It was obvious that she would be dragged into the king’s bedroom after supper.

A night with the king. She was not able to hold her laughter after looking at the dresses the servants suggested to her. Their purpose was so clear. Although they were long enough to cover her wrists and ankles, her skin could be seen through them and her shoulders would be exposed. Though they may have been moderate in this country, they bore an obvious purpose.

Then there was the king…

A servant declared the king’s entrance. Without even noticing, Ashite-Ploka lowered her head. There was the sound of calm and heavy steps. The princess greeted the king in her culture’s manner.

“Nice to meet you. The third princess of Skara, Allo Lizdeika Rabri Ashite-Ploca Joanena Pescara Van Squirina greets the heir of the dragon, the owner of the gray castle, the ruler of the Ottoinette, the leader of the continent, the black knife: Del Monte the Third.”

“I assume you heard my words. Welcome to Monterobis.”

The voice disappeared without even echoing. Although it was their first meeting, it seemed like neither the princess nor the king wanted it — it was a very dry greeting. The king did not say anything else, and the princess rose her head up again. They looked at each other. With her dark, pumpkin-colored eyes, she quickly looked through the king.

A young gentleman. His sharp, red eyes were the first thing she noticed. His purple hair with a hint of blue blew gently around the scar on his cheek. Although his dark skin and tall height were intimidating, she was surprised that he looked more normal than she expected. The reason was quite simple.

For someone who was known as a devilish murderer not just in Skara, but in the entire Marycury continent, he looked like a regular human being, much unlike what she expected him to be: a disgusting, rough monster. Thinking about her own assumptions, she almost laughed out loud, but she held onto herself.

The king sat down. Under his bright red cape, she saw the sheath that protected his knife. Looking at his sheath, the princess also sat down.

Even the princess who barely left her castle knew of the merciless acts of cruelty performed by that very knife. That infamous king was now in front of her, with his knife on his waist.

As she was looking at his knife more and more, her heart was beating faster and faster. Trying to quench her thirst, she took a sip of her water. Her mouth was so dry that she did not know if she was swallowing the water or her spit, but whatever she took was making her hands sweat and her stomach feel cold as ice.

Ashite looked at the spoon in front of her. She took a glance at the king, and he was already holding his spoon up.

<>

Countless thoughts were stirring up her head. All she could hear was some buzzing.

<>

Ashite put her hands on the table lightly as she tried to push her thoughts away.

It was time for her to do something that she had never done as a princess who lived in an elegant castle for 20 years. Although this was her first-time meeting with the king and they barely had a conversation, she believed in all the stories of his murderous tendencies. She truly did. It would be a lie to say that she was not afraid of death, but her peace was more important than that. She believed she could find her peace if she died here.

Ashite pushed her dish against the soup bowl, sighing. Although it did not make any noise, it was not good manners during supper, and the servants looked at her.

“Does she not like the dish?”

“Then why wouldn’t she say anything?”

“I don’t understand.”

They whispered as they made confused faces.

However, none of the looks she was getting were from the king. She took a glance at him, then she put the spoon diagonally on top of the soup dish. This time, the spoon made the sound of metal hitting a ceramic bowl.

It meant she was finished with the meal.

A cold look hit her. Bright red eyes contacted pumpkin yellow eyes. The king’s look did not contain any reproof or curiosity. It was a look of unconcern, just a reaction to the sound. He did not seem to be angry; he did not seem to feel anything. Before turning her look away, the princess calmly opened her mouth.

“I do not have an appetite.”

“Eat.”

Just like a lion, his voice was low, intimidating, and scary — but Ashite was not the kind of person to fear this. Once again, she looked straight into his strange red eyes.

“Your highness, why should I eat? What good do I get from this? I would rather die than be treated like trash.”

Tangled with a look of annoyance, resentment, and criticism, she spoke in an overdone, high-toned voice. It was for a better, more effective result. The more the king thought she was arrogant and rude, the better for her.

However, her actions were real.

As if she wanted to break all the dishes on the table, Ashite threw her spoon. Right after, she did the same with the chopsticks, forks, and dish knife that were in front of her.

A beautifully-crafted bowl made a rough sound as it hit the ground. The spoon bounced off a few more dishes and made a sharp sound. The other dishes and utensils followed suit.

The fork and the dish knife hit the dish right in front of the king, and few others fell into the food, making a small splash everywhere. Droplets of soup and sauce stained the tablecloth. Soon after the spoon fell off the table.

The servants were all in shook, and their whispering filled the silenced dining room. The princess of Skara, an area known for people of gentle and elegant attitude, had just done something unbelievably rude. All these trained servants had never seen such a disrespectful display.

They soon became frightened. They knew no one was safe in this place. A few young servants who recently started working were shaking in fear.

In the world of Latrice and the kingdoms in it — Skara, Monterobis, and Khan — there was no place where such ill-mannered behavior was acceptable. This was obvious. Even someone from a working-class family in a small country like Khan would have behaved better than the princess had just now.

The action of the princess throwing the spoon clearly meant that she was refusing the meal. Still, it was definitely not the proper way to do so.

The servants thought of the prestige of the king during his coronation and during the war. The merciless king would not take even the most courteous refusal. They expected that he would punish the princess in no time.

However, the king stared at the princess for a moment and simply turned away, unbothered. He continued his meal. It was the same calmness the king usually showed during his meal. This was how the king showed composure, rather than exposing his true personality.

Ashite tried not to be flustered.

<>

Ashite could not hide her confusion as she looked at the king. He appeared to be truly enjoying his meal.

At that moment, she finally realized she was wrong. It should have been obvious. He was known as the ruler of the continent. He was someone who did not want to, or need to, hurry; he went at his own pace. The king would not kill her just from this boring incident.

As just a captive from the enemy country causing a small incident, the king would barely be bothered by her. He could just get his knife out after he enjoyed his meal — maybe not even on his own. He could make one of his servants do the job.

The princess swallowed down her sigh. What should she do now? She could not think straight with death on her mind. All she could think of was the knife. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the knife… No, she could not think of any other way.

As the princess was rethinking her plan, the king was almost done eating. Although he was the ruler of the continent, he seemed to keep the habit of eating quickly from the war.

The servants brought desserts such as fresh fruits as he finished the meal. The princess did not touch a single thing as expected, but the king seemed to enjoy every bite of it. After he finished a calm, relaxing dinner, the princess hesitated, wondering if she needed to stay or leave.

“Princess, please follow me.”

The king resolved her concern. The knife on his waist made a clinging sound. She closed her eyes, then opened them.

The king left the dining area and walked down the hallway. The princess quietly followed. Suddenly, the king stood by one of the doors. The servant who was guarding the golden door with a curvy pattern greeted them and opened the door. The giant door opened without making any sound.

The room was the king’s office. Inside was a cleanly organized desk, bookshelf, sofa, and table as well as the subtle scent of ink. The door closed and the king walked to the desk. Ashite was looking down at the patterns on the floor. The tangled group of colors seemed to represent the art of Monterobis.

“Princess, it would be better for you to stop what you are doing.”

“…”

“I will keep providing you with the lifestyle you have right now as long as you stay well- behaved.”

Ashite looked at the king. The king dryly said that he would guarantee the peaceful life that she had been wanting to have. The king would not say this just as a joke.

Throughout the ten days she spent there, she was provided with exactly what she needed. Although she did not eat much, the meals were great, and the servants’ services were excellent, too. This arrangement was good enough for her — as long as the king did not consider her to be his trinket, that is.

“I will let you go after both countries’ after-war process is done.”

Ashite tried to hold onto herself. She could not hide her facial expression well. She could control her smile, but she could not stop the joy, surprise, and bit of curiosity coming out of her eyes. That was how exceptional offer was.

In fact, if she thought more about it, there was no way that the king would release the princess that simply. Although she did not know the exact reason why she had to come here, she knew it was related to the war. She assumed that he would not let the captive go free that easily. Ashite was very excited about his proposition, but she acknowledged that there had to be more to it.

But that was not the important part. The most important thing for Ashite was that the king was guaranteeing her a peaceful life. It was the only thing she ever wanted since she was born. Even though it may take a while and even though it may be hard to go back to Skara, Ashite was willing to wait if what she wanted was waiting there for her.

“… are you telling the truth, your highness?”

“I promise.”

The king took a paper out from the lowest drawer of the table. It was the royal paper, with a small golden dragon on it. He started to write using a pen with colorful feathers. He was writing very quickly, but the writing was clear.

Ashite looked at what he was doing, trying to process the thought of what had just happened.

<> Ashite wondered.

It surprised her that the king was able to produce such detailed paperwork so quickly. Ever since she first met the king, she was constantly in shock at the unexpected things happening. It was one of the very few times in her life that such shocking things happened.

It seemed like he was going to keep his promise. Her heartbeat was beating fast, just like that of a kid getting a present.

The king handed the paper to the princess. It did not even take a minute for her to read what was written. She signed the paper. All of her excitement that she’d been pushing down, gratitude for the peace that she could finally have, and the fact that she did not have to die — everything came out in that signature of hers, which made it a bit crooked. However, she couldn’t care less.

Under the contract saying the princess would be returned safely to her country after the after-war process went well between Monterobis and Skara, the date and their names were written down. The king pressed his stamp right on top of it. It was the royal seal of the dragon with golden scales.

//Latrice Force year 321, December 16th, Del Monte the Third.

Til Buire Purvoi Lu Havre Nante Le Monviso.

Allo Lizdeika Rabri Ashite-Ploca Joanena Pescara Van Squirina.//

Lu Havre, the king, called someone with his low-toned voice while taking out one of the folders in the bookshelf.

“Karbala.”

A person came out of somewhere in his office as if he’d been in there the whole time.

“Yes, your majesty? Do you need anything?”

“Sign this.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Ashite was surprised again. She did not expect to see the head of Etutu in her life.

Etutu, also known as Etunakil Le Nante, was a living proof that the legendary dragon, Monvixo, truly existed before. The very last dragon in the land made Etutu with his own skin, as his lover said to, and gave them to his child, Nante. After the country was built, Monvixo left and Nante passed away; Etutu continued to live to carry on their legacy. It was because of the generations after that Nante’s legacy continued. Being humans and the heir of the dragon, those who had the blood of Monvixo were called “the Nantes.” Etutu was known as the group who only followed the Nantes.

However, she was aware that the group always operated in secrecy. Maybe it was because he knew his group would not be outside of the country, or he figured she could not be any kind of threat just for knowing the face of Karbala. Whatever the reason, even if it showed that she had no power over things, she did not get offended.

Rather than thinking about the head of Etutu showing his face, Ashite was more focused on why the king is doing such work for her. Frankly, he did not need to do any of these things — promising her, making the paper for her, and even having the witness for it. It would be much easier and quicker for the king to use his sharp knife. She wondered especially why Karbala had to be a witness.

Ashite was satisfied. More than satisfied, in fact. The king’s cold-hearted expressions and emotionless way of speaking, his sharp eyes that seemed to read everyone’s minds, and the knife on his waist showed the brutality of a man who took over the whole continent, but he did his best for the captive of an enemy country.

For Ashite, it was more than enough.

Ashite realized he did the things he’d done for her because it wouldn’t be great for either of them if people were to talk about what the princess did to the king during supper. And doing such, regardless of how cruel he was with his knife and with war, reminded the princess how meticulous he could be, just like how his knife.

Even if that was the reason why he was doing this, she did not mind. It was more than enough for her; she couldn’t have asked more.

Ashite could not hold her joy and contentment. Her plan to look for death anywhere was already out of her own sight. What the king is thinking of, or even what the servants would talk about, was nothing she cared about.

She was thinking that she would die as a trinket, but the king treated her well. At this point, there was no reason for her to cause any more violence. Ashite was satisfied. She could have peace without dying. It would be greedy to want more than this, and that was not in her nature.

But besides the paper, there was something else for her to be surprised about.

“And Karbala,”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Which of the Etutu would be the best escort for the princess?”

“…I beg your pardon?”

Even Karbala was surprised. Ashite looked at him, then looked at the king. It may have been called an escort, but she knew its real purpose was to prevent her from causing any further violence.

But still, an escort from Etutu for a captive was not necessary. Just a normal knight would be good enough for the work. The more she thought about it, the more it left curiosity in her head. Unlike her and the servant being surprised, the king did not skip a beat and continued.

“Did you just talk back to me?”

“I-I apologize, your majesty. Please forgive what I have done—”

The king frowned. He did not want any unnecessary words.

“No need. Just answer me.”

“Yeref from the top tier is very agile and fit for this.”

“What is his current task?”

“He is guarding your bedroom, your majesty.”

“Is there anyone who can replace him from the top tier?”

“Noine can replace him right now.”

“Please do so. Send him to me now. And you may leave.”

“Will do. Ou Otoi Monvixo Le-Hoshuchoihre.”

He bowed to the king. With his hand on his face, he spoke in the language of Monvixo with an exotic accent. It was their culture to be more polite than the people of Skara.

Ashite had just experienced what Monterobis is like. While she was in awe, Karbala hid himself again.

The king put the paper into the folder since he was done talking. He put the folder back on the bookshelf. The red cape representing Monterobis was waving gently by the breeze; only the king of the country was allowed to wear it.

As the king turned around towards the princess to look at her, she also looked back at him, too. She thanked him in the manner of Skara. She was like a white butterfly in front of him, with steps of a little bird and a calm smile. She never thanked someone as she did right now. The king also nodded.

As the servant walked away, the door closed.