Had the wardrobe of King Gallie V of Planus, her father, always been this dark and deep?
Princess Arien, curled tightly inside, struggled to swallow the scream rising in her throat.
She should call out at once and summon the royal guards—but her entire body felt frozen, incapable of movement. If she were discovered, she would be killed.
Don’t come out!
King Gallie V, as a father, seemed to believe that the only thing he could do in this final moment was protect his only daughter. He fixed her with a desperate, pleading gaze.
Arien’s vision wavered as tears streamed down without pause.
Though cold sweat ran down her back, her shoulders trembled like leaves in the wind.
At that moment, what snapped her back to her senses—while she covered her mouth and held her breath in the darkness—was the shout of a man wrapped entirely in a black robe.
“Treason! The princess has murdered the king!”
In that instant, Arien—who had merely been hiding to present a birthday gift to her father—was branded a parricide and a traitor to the Kingdom of Planus.
For a month leading up to King Gallie V’s birthday, Arien had been deeply preoccupied with choosing the perfect gift for her father.
It was no easy task to find something worthy of a man who lacked for nothing—but for her, the process itself was a joy.
Believing she had come up with something truly remarkable, Arien shut herself in her room, sketching designs until nearly noon.
“I’m done!”
A bright smile spread across her face as she lifted the blueprint and turned it over in her hands.
Though she had skipped lunch, she needed to rush to the royal forge and meet Batoni first.
If her nanny Marka found out, she would be subjected to an endless lecture on the “virtues of a princess.”
And then she wouldn’t be able to work in secret—so there was no time to waste.
Rolling up the blueprint in one hand, Arien cracked open her door and carefully checked the palace corridor.
Fortunately, all the servants and maids were far too busy preparing for the king’s birthday banquet to notice her.
As she walked briskly down the gleaming marble hallway, the sharp clacking of her shoes sounded unusually loud today.
Now twenty-five years old, Arien was still the sole daughter of a father whose affection for her had never waned.
From a young age, she had been educated by the finest instructors at the Planus Academy—learning not only healing magic and medicine, but also mathematics, mechanics, theology, astronomy, alchemy, music, art, ancient languages, and swordsmanship.
Yet no matter how many times she wore them, these tiny shoes always felt suffocating.
The clicking sound they made felt as if they were designed to prevent the wearer from ever running freely.
She tried stepping lightly, putting strength into the soles of her feet—but perhaps because she was in a hurry, tension kept creeping into her legs.
Then there was only one solution.
With a mischievous smile, Arien glanced around, then deftly slipped off her shoes and tucked them neatly behind a large monstera plant in the corner of the corridor.
Free at last, she gathered her light-green dress and dashed toward the royal forge, the fabric fluttering behind her.
“Batoni! Batoni! Please take a look at this—quickly!”
Batoni, who had been pumping the bellows in the corner of the forge and wiping sweat from his brow, frowned as he strode over.
To him, Princess Arien was as troublesome as a sparrow that swooped in during harvest season to peck at the grain.
She often thrust hastily drawn blueprints at him, asking him to recreate them exactly, and sometimes even begged for failed daggers or scraps of metal—putting him, the master of the royal forge, in awkward positions.
“Your Highness, there are many blacksmiths besides me. Could you not ask someone else? I am truly very busy today.”
“No! No one but you can make this on the entire continent, Batoni. Please—I’m counting on you.”
Sighing, Batoni accepted the blueprint from her hand.
The blade was of an unusual length—longer than a dagger, yet shorter than a knight’s longsword. Still, a sword was a sword, and he initially felt relieved.
But his expression stiffened when his eyes reached the section specifying the material.
Blade: Ranidium
“Are you trying to have me thrown into the dungeon this time?”
“Of course not. It’s a birthday gift—I want to do at least this much. His Majesty already has fine swords, doesn’t he? This time, I want to give him something special. Do you know how much effort I put into this design?”
“Randidium cannot be used without His Majesty’s permission. You might as well have me arrested instead.”
Ignoring her enthusiastic explanation, Batoni responded bluntly.
Arien burst into laughter at the sight of his grumbling face.
Only Batoni—the greatest blacksmith on the continent—could possibly craft this blade she had designed.
Ranidium was an extremely rare and difficult material to work with.
Yet despite his constant refusals, Batoni was ultimately someone who always gave in to her requests.
“This sword will be light enough for His Majesty to carry at all times. It’ll be perfect as a personal defense weapon. Didn’t he encounter pirates during his last naval campaign?”
Arien suddenly spoke of pirates, putting on a horrified expression.
It was her usual tactic—bringing out her final argument like a hidden weapon, appealing to his unwavering loyalty.
“…Haah. By when do you need it done?”
Batoni paused, then let his shoulders slump as if resigning himself after a great ordeal.
Whenever he spoke like this, it meant the request would be completed within a few days.
“The sooner, the better. Thank you so much!”
Satisfied, Arien gave him a bright smile and a thumbs-up before leaving the forge.
“Oh dear, beaten by the princess again, are you? She truly is the spitting image of the late Queen Estecali. Ho ho ho.”
Old man Nesler, who had been listening while tempering metal with tongs, chuckled as he patted Batoni on the shoulder.
On her way back, imagining the splendid creation Batoni would forge, Arien suddenly noticed something missing.
Her feet.
I was so excited… I left my shoes behind.
As she retraced her steps, the maids she passed bowed politely.
Hoping they wouldn’t notice her bare feet, she walked carefully until she reached the monstera plant.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she reached behind it—
—but found only cold marble.
“Huh? That’s strange… I definitely left them here.”
Startled, Arien searched around the plant, but the shoes were nowhere to be found.
Then, a gentle voice sounded behind her.
“Princess Arien, what are you doing there?”
She turned sharply, startled like a thief caught in the act.
Standing there was Drezel Karim, captain of the royal guard.
His gleaming silver armor and deep purple cloak contrasted handsomely with his brown hair—but Arien, flustered over her shoes, couldn’t even think of a proper greeting.
“S-Sir Karim. Hello.”
“If there is anything I can assist you with, please tell me.”
“It’s nothing. I was just… concerned that this monstera plant seemed a bit wilted.”
As she pointed awkwardly, Drezel examined the plant closely.
“It appears perfectly healthy to me.”
Drezel Karim had graduated second in his class at the Royal Academy—just below Arien—and had quickly risen through the ranks to become captain of the royal guard at a young age.
She could not afford to be seen as a careless noble who had lost her shoes.
Straightening her posture, Arien forced a dignified smile and turned to leave.
“Are you perhaps looking for this?”
On his palm rested her small shoe, adorned with a ribbon.
Perhaps because of his large hands, it looked even smaller.
“Why is that in your hand?”
“Well, I found it earlier—”
He began to explain, but Arien’s face had already turned bright red.
Snatching the shoe from his hand, she quickly put it on and hurried away.
Drezel saluted crisply, barely suppressing a smile.
The two, close in age, had once been friendly rivals at the academy. Since Arien suggested they act as friends in private, they had grown somewhat closer.
Which meant he knew very well—whenever she addressed him formally like “Sir Karim,” it was because she was hiding something.
I should’ve teased her more. What a shame… Princess Arien.
Only after she disappeared down the corridor did he relax and smile.
The great empire of Alician, once thought destined to shine forever, had ultimately fractured into five kingdoms—undone by the twisted desires of the very humans who built it.
One of those kingdoms was Planus, rising in the south.
Though not an era of complete peace, the four other kingdoms—Nacra to the north, Krun to the northeast, Wedain to the west, and Raul to the southwest—sent delegations to Planus’s celebration, maintaining a delicate balance of power.
At last, the day before King Gallie V’s birthday banquet arrived.
The palace bustled with servants as nobles and envoys from across the lands gathered.
“Father, it’s late. The banquet is tomorrow, yet you’re still in your study. You’ll need to meet all the nobles who have traveled so far.”
“Hahaha, it’s a birthday that comes every year. Can we not simply skip it this time? I’d rather end the dull banquet quickly and spend time with you.”
“You know the council won’t like that.”
Arien shot him a brief look before smiling again.
After losing Queen Estecali to a rare illness when Arien was just two, King Gallie V had devoted himself entirely to his daughter.
Arien, who resembled the late queen in both beauty and wisdom, was his joy—his very light.
To protect her, he kept her hidden from foreign eyes, isolating her from external events and delegations.
Thus she became known as:
The Veiled Princess.
And the suffocating nature of that title was why she often spent her time in the royal library or the forge.
On the day of the banquet, King Gallie V spent the entire day greeting guests and exchanging formalities.
Though it was his birthday, he often wondered who the celebration was truly for.
I can’t even remember how many people I’ve met today. Without Arien, it feels even more tedious.
Though exhausted as he returned to his study late at night, he secretly looked forward to how Arien would present her gift this year.
Every year, she would surprise him—emerging from behind curtains, closets, or balconies.
(Though after the incident where she nearly fell from a balcony, he had made her promise never to do anything dangerous again.)
“Leave me. I wish to speak with Arien alone tonight.”
He dismissed the attendants, hoping to help stage her grand entrance.
Would she appear from under the bed this time? Or perhaps the bath?
Smiling, he entered the room.
“Ahem.”
He cleared his throat to signal his arrival—then noticed the wardrobe door slightly ajar.
Through the slats, a faint glimmer of silver.
This child… hiding in the wardrobe this time, is she?
Pretending not to notice, he turned toward his desk—
When suddenly, a man burst from the darkness.
Without hesitation, he plunged a dagger into the king’s chest.
“Ugh… who are you?!”
King Gallie V reached for the bell to summon the guards—but collapsed before he could grasp it.
Arien’s playful smile vanished, replaced by horror.
She had only been imagining how happy her father would be to receive her gift.
Time seemed to stop.
Faced with the sudden tragedy, she forgot even how to breathe.
As she moved to burst from the wardrobe—
their eyes met.
It lasted only an instant, yet his gaze spoke clearly:
Don’t come out.
Her heart, frozen like stone, shattered in silence.
The southern kingdom of Planus—known as the land of the spirits of flowers—had long cultivated healing arts using dried flowers and herbs, advancing medicine and knowledge.
A kingdom of light.
And yet, ironically—
darkness first reached the one who shone brightest within it:
Princess Arien Bloom Clavian.
