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Chapter 4
“You must never raise your head.”
The palace attendant reminded the young girl again and again.
It was advice she had heard before. Baeksa already knew that when meeting the emperor, one was not allowed to lift their head until permission was given.
When the child nodded with a tense expression, the attendant watched her for a moment before speaking toward the closed door.
“Your Majesty, as ordered, I have brought the princess.”
“Let her enter.”
A cold voice came from beyond the door.
Baeksa flinched at the merciless tone.
She had heard that voice many times before, yet every time she heard it, cold sweat broke out across her body and her hands trembled.
As the door opened, the child carefully stepped forward while staring only at her feet and stopped in her place.
Then, standing before the enormous imperial throne, she lowered her head deeply and waited for the emperor to speak.
Not long afterward, the emperor opened his mouth and uttered a dry remark.
“So you’ve come. This is the first time I’ve seen your face. There was never any reason to see it before.”
“H-Hello, Your Majesty…”
But that was all.
The emperor did not tell her to raise her head.
A quarter of an hour passed.
Then another.
Nothing changed.
Feeling the sharp gaze directed at her like an arrow piercing her body, the child squeezed her eyes shut.
‘Maybe this is better.’
If he had told her to raise her head, she wouldn’t have known what expression to make.
So perhaps this was better.
Baeksa slowly opened her eyes and stared at her feet, recalling the day she had first come here.
The day she had manifested her ability and been brought to the palace.
That day, the emperor had given Baeksa the right to choose her own fate.
As time passed and she became a useless existence, she eventually realized that even then, she had never truly been given a choice.
Still, at least in name, there had been one.
‘But this time, there won’t be.’
She had neither manifested an ability nor shown any kind of usefulness.
So, just as Songra had said, and just as the rumors within the palace claimed, she would be cast out.
Gulp.
Baeksa swallowed.
The little girl fidgeted with her sweat-soaked hands as she waited for her father’s words.
And still, still…
Deep in her heart, a tiny hope remained alive—that perhaps, even at the very last moment, her father would call her kindly.
“Useless child. How could a snake beastman have been born into the imperial family of Haeseo Kingdom…”
The merciless emperor had never once fulfilled Baeksa’s hopes.
His dry words made her heart ache.
Muttering as though he intended her to hear, the emperor looked down at Baeksa with a faint smile.
“Your future has been decided.”
Why was there no way to stop hope from blooming, even when she knew it was futile, even when she knew what awaited her?
“Go to Namto, the Southern Land of the Vermilion Bird.”
Perhaps it was because Baeksa was still so young that even if her previous life’s age and her current age were added together, she still wouldn’t be an adult.
Perhaps, if she grew older, she would stop harboring such futile hopes.
Perhaps she would stop feeling pain from words like these.
But Baeksa knew that there would be no such thing as “when I grow older.”
Because she would die in Namto.
Without having the chance to grow further.
Without having the chance to learn more.
Without having the chance to understand more.
“Whether you live or die there is entirely up to you.”
As the emperor’s words sank into her ears, Baeksa gently clenched both hands.
‘It was true.’
That they had originally intended to throw her away.
That Songra had said she would have been discarded if only another week had passed.
It had all been true.
Baeksa felt happy about that, yet not happy.
No, perhaps she felt sad.
She could finally be cast out just as she had wanted.
Then why was she sad?
The child blinked her stinging eyes and bit down hard on her lip.
After a moment, Baeksa slowly raised her head and looked at the emperor.
The sudden action shocked everyone present.
Even the emperor was no exception.
The child thought the expression on the emperor’s face hurt more than she had imagined.
This was the second time she had been cast aside by her father.
But experiencing something sad twice did not make it hurt any less.
Even so, the girl tried not to cry and forced herself to smile.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
But she could not stop the tears that poured forth like water from a broken spring.
A single tear rolled down her pale cheek and gathered at the tip of her chin.
Yet instead of wiping it away, Baeksa’s small lips trembled as she continued speaking.
“Thank you for raising me all this time.”
In the silence, the child slowly, very slowly lowered her head and offered her final farewell.
“Please stay healthy.”
Those last words were not a farewell meant for the emperor.
‘Please recover.’
They were meant for the owner of the hand she had held onto until the day she was cast out.
The emperor raised an eyebrow at the child’s attitude.
Between his narrowed eyes, two dark pupils settled on the child standing at his feet.
Long hair that had never been properly cared for.
A body smaller and frailer than others her age.
A child barely seven years old.
Being a child did not mean she wouldn’t know where Namto was.
The beastmen of Haeseo Kingdom grew up hearing stories about the cursed land in the south from an early age.
So she undoubtedly knew that going there meant death.
She must also know that she was being sent there because heaven’s laws forbade dragons from killing their own children.
And yet…
‘Thank you for raising me all this time.’
‘Please stay healthy.’
Could a seven-year-old really say such things?
Wasn’t it normal for children that age to cry, beg, and plead not to be thrown out? To desperately ask not to be exiled?
If Yeoryun or Songra had heard this news, they would probably have clung to his legs and cried until they collapsed from exhaustion.
But this child did not.
She did not cry.
She did not beg.
She did not tremble while asking him to reconsider.
Instead, she raised her head and looked directly into her father’s face.
Then, as though she had been waiting for this moment from the very beginning, she smiled softly through her tears and offered her final goodbye.
Behind the bangs that partially covered her face, her pitch-black eyes held neither expectation nor hope.
Those transparent eyes seemed devoid of any emotion.
For a moment, they even reminded him of his own.
But…
‘What does it matter?’
She was a child who would soon be cast out.
Having already decided to send her away, the fact that she had shown an unusual side of herself was hardly important.
The fact that he had only learned the color of her eyes today was not particularly important either.
Nor was the fact that today was likely her birthday.
She was merely leaving on the same day she had arrived.
When the emperor gestured with his hand, the little girl withdrew as though she had been waiting for it and left her place.
Though her small legs trembled slightly as she walked away, she never once looked back.
A tiny tear stain remained where she had stood before quickly drying and disappearing without a trace.
Watching the scene with indifference, the emperor spoke to the scribe kneeling nearby.
“Record that the princess was expelled from this palace today.”
Then, as though remembering something at the last moment, he added one more sentence.
“Write that it was Princess Baeksa of the White Snake, so she won’t be confused with the other princesses.”
The scribe moved his hand very slowly and recorded that the girl who had been standing here only moments ago had departed from the palace.
That brief single line became the only proof that the girl had ever existed within the imperial family.
From that moment onward, everything proceeded swiftly.
A carriage had already been prepared.
The palace attendants who would see her off had gathered in small groups before the narrow gate of the imperial palace.
Normally, whenever a member of the imperial family left the palace, everyone who had served them would come out to bid farewell.
However, only three people had managed Baeksa’s residence.
Therefore, only three attendants stood side by side beside the carriage she would ride.
As Baeksa approached the carriage, she suddenly stopped upon seeing a familiar attendant.
That woman was the only person in the entire imperial palace who had shown Baeksa even a little kindness.
‘She’ll live better without me.’
In truth, Baeksa’s residence had been little different from a place of exile.
Among palace attendants, rank was determined by whom they served.
If that attendant were assigned to a better master than Baeksa, she would work in far better conditions.
Thinking that way made the sadness feel a little lighter.
When Baeksa climbed into the carriage with a tense expression, the escort warriors assigned to accompany her to the southern lands took their positions on either side.
Not long afterward, the carriage slowly began to move.
