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Chapter 6
In truth, she had been waiting because she was told to wait. Hoping he would remember her and come find her once more.
Now that she had come to know you, she felt she could never return to the time before she knew you… If she said the future had become a little more frightening, what kind of expression would you make? You would likely recoil and think she didn’t know her place.
Ezra, thoroughly intimidated, murmured almost inaudibly.
“If you keep treating me so kindly like today… I, I might end up misunderstanding things.”
“Wow, that would be totally welcome.”
His tone was sly. He stepped closer, the corners of his eyes curling as he smiled. She couldn’t answer, only clenched both fists out of habit—then he gently covered her fists with his large hand.
“Dance with me, princess.”
The man who had knelt on the dirt floor requested a dance with utmost courtesy. When she stepped back, he tightened his grip and pulled her forward. Her lips pouted in protest.
“I’m not getting up until you agree.”
So he could even make that kind of face. Stubbornly refusing to yield, she had no choice. She turned away, her face surely red, then gave a stiff nod. As if expecting this, he stood up with a satisfied smile.
“Ah!”
A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his chest so her nose bumped against him as she fell into his embrace. Embarrassed, she squirmed and whispered.
“Um… I actually don’t know how to dance.”
“That’s fine. Dance was just an excuse—I just wanted to hug you.”
She had gathered her courage to confess honestly, but a hollow laugh escaped her instead.
“Oh, you just laughed out loud, didn’t you?”
“M-me? No way…”
She shook her head vigorously, but he only laughed brightly. Beneath the noble moonlight and the stars that seemed about to pour down, their overlapping shadows moved slowly.
“Keep smiling like that.”
His low breath brushed her ear, sweet and warm. She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze—he still shone clearly in the darkness, like the only light.
“It’s okay.”
The man who had allowed her to smile for the first time. A gentle hand brushed through her long hair in comfort. Like soothing a child, he treated her so tenderly that Ezra gripped his collar tightly.
Her trembling hand, so desperate to reach him, shook faintly. The man hiding his bored expression tilted his head slightly in secret. So they say women starved for affection are easy—but this was too easy.
Losing interest, he let out a quiet sigh. Still, he held the fragile shoulders of the woman in his arms, rubbing his cheek lightly against her dark hair, pretending to comfort her while deceiving her.
After the storm-like banquet passed, peaceful days returned to the royal palace. As if nothing had happened, a lazy atmosphere spread—except in Labyrinthos, where Hippolotes and his warriors stayed, tension lingered.
On a windless night, a black bird flew into the open window frame. The sky was so clouded that not a single star was visible. Tied to the bird’s leg was a rolled parchment.
When he reached out, the bird fluttered over and landed on his arm. Hippolotes untied the parchment and read it with an indifferent expression.
“Is this a messenger from Thermos?”
“Yes.”
He crumpled the parchment in his hand, then stole flame from the burning candlestick. The paper turned to ash and scattered on the floor.
“Is this all it says?”
“Yes. It asks about the number of trained soldiers in Thermos,” Zenon replied, stepping forward.
Hippolotes stared at Zenon coldly, displeased.
“I distinctly remember asking for the maximum military strength.”
“The commander likely listed only those ready for immediate battle, as it’s difficult to estimate future reinforcements,” Kakos, the strategist, added.
Hippolotes gave a delayed order with a detached expression.
“Keep gathering soldiers. Those who cannot properly perform—kill them without hesitation. Why waste supplies on such vermin?”
He spoke of death as though it meant nothing, his eyes curving gently. Reclining slightly, he tilted his head back. The prince was more beautiful than anyone else.
Especially the silver hair flowing down his neck and those crimson eyes bathed in moonlight…
“What are you looking at?”
When he revealed his true nature after a long time, those admiring his beauty quickly averted their gaze, stammering. A man born cruel and merciless—if you reached out to him drawn by his beauty, you would lose your life instantly.
Kakos rubbed his arms, chilled, while Hippolotes let out a faint sneer. Distant gray walls stood far away. How satisfying it would be to break those walls and burn everything down.
Everything was exhausting and bothersome. He wanted to conquer Titen as soon as possible, return to his homeland, and seize the empire in his hands.
That was why he even whispered false words of love to that disgusting woman.
Love—and women.
‘Someone like me would only be a burden to Your Highness. So you should treat me as if I don’t exist… that would be right.’
Recalling the girl who said such things while clutching his collar desperately, Hippolotes suddenly opened his eyes. He loosened his crossed legs and slowly approached the window.
“…Lord Hippolotes?”
A boring woman from head to toe. Even thinking about her again, she was too easy—there was no fun in it.
“Kakos, has that maid said anything else?”
“No, not yet…”
“How strange. I thought she would have rushed over and slapped her by now.”
As he stroked his chin, thinking of the queen and Ezra, a presence was felt outside the door as if on cue.
“Finally.”
With a careless gesture, Demoleon guarding the door quickly opened it. Mataris entered respectfully and bowed deeply toward Hippolotes.
“Enough with the greetings. Report?”
“As you predicted, the beating has already continued for several days.”
“So she’s been beaten enough?”
“Yes.”
At Mataris’ answer, he pushed himself off the window. With light steps, he left the room to deceive the woman who must already be in ruins as planned.
【 Red Thread 】
A princess born from the body of a lowly mother, and the cursed child born after the king killed the woman he loved most.
The grieving king, driven mad, once raised a dagger to the infant—but the child was spared because she had green eyes like her mother.
However, the princess raised in a stone tower from infancy was gradually forgotten. The maids who stayed by her side grew fewer, and after she turned five, only two maids brought her meals each day.
She learned to wash herself alone, to speak clumsily, and to read the expressions of those around her.
The first thing Ezra learned was coldness.
The chill wind seeping through the stone cracks made her curl up all day. Then, just as she had been waiting, footsteps would approach.
Excited, she would linger by the stone door until it opened and a familiar maid brought bread and soup.
The maids thought she was only waiting for food, so they increased the portions—but Ezra still waited for them.
Yet they never spoke to her first. They only gave necessary words, then turned away without waiting for a reply.
Ezra spent every day watching their retreating backs, thinking and thinking.
If she spoke first, would they answer?
Would they frown and sigh, irritated?
Could she say she was cold, that being alone hurt?
On bath days, the maid would say:
“Come out.”
And turn away coldly.
Young Ezra would timidly descend the stairs and be pushed into the bath. The darkness inside terrified her, so she would quickly wash and leave.
Even that stopped after she turned five, replaced only by contemptuous stares.
One day, as she climbed the stairs after bathing, she noticed something strange—the stone door that was always shut was slightly open.
She widened her eyes.
Through the gap, she saw white light pouring in and fresh air flowing inside. Beyond it, deep green color she had never seen before.
“Where is that?”
The maids ignored her, but she hesitantly asked.
“Can I go outside… just for a moment? Just while I count to five fingers?”
She held up her hand desperately, but the maids firmly pressed a finger toward her face.
“No.”
Their eyes were cold—but for a fleeting moment, there seemed to be pity.
“You’re not wanted outside.”
She couldn’t ask why. She was too young to understand “not wanted.”
All she felt was betrayal.
Maybe it would have been better not to have seen it at all. Even with her eyes closed, she could not erase the white sunlight and fresh air.
From that day on, Ezra clung to the maids’ skirts when they brought food.
“One time… just once…”
Her fingers shrank from five to three, but they ignored her.
Eventually, one maid, furious, slapped her hard and shoved her down.
Falling on her bottom, Ezra was yelled at:
“Be grateful just to breathe and live like dead! You should’ve died the day you were born!”
The maid’s eyes were bloodshot.
“Everyone outside wants you dead. So do we.”
“S-sorry…”
“You came out of your mother’s womb like that, yet you dare demand anything? You killed your mother, your father, and no one in this world wants you. So know your place and shut up!”
Driven mad by her own rage, the maid whispered cruelly:
“If that’s the case… you should just die.”
