WCMT 13

Episode 13

Kinesia had assumed that the Emperor was unaware of the atrocities committed by Yorgos and his companions. Such trivial matters would surely be beneath the notice of the ruler of an empire.

But that belief didn’t last long.

She realized the Emperor had been condoning their actions when she finally managed to meet him face-to-face.

Even when she was sick or exhausted, Kinesia forced herself to attend every banquet and gathering, hoping to encounter him — even by chance.

And at last, she did. With great difficulty, she tried to speak the truth.

“Your Majesty, I am Princess Kinesia Veloas of Epiphanes. I have something to—”

But before she could even get to the point, the Emperor frowned, as though he had stepped on filth.

As Kinesia froze under his look of contempt, the Emperor turned and left. Everyone in the court saw it happen.

A hundred gazes pierced her like arrows.

Snickers. Mocking eyes scanning her up and down.

For the first time in her life, Kinesia felt fear under the weight of people’s eyes.

She couldn’t stand there any longer. With her legs trembling, she stumbled out of the hall.

‘What am I supposed to do now…?’

After it became clear that the Emperor had chosen to turn a blind eye, her food began to change.

A cracked, moldy wooden bowl. Animal feed passed off as her meal. A servant tossed it in front of her like scraps.

The mockery grew sharper with each passing day.

“And her father, the king—he just grins like an idiot.”
“At least the queen’s kind of pretty, though. Hey, you could take her as your concubine.”
“Ha! Kinesia, why not write to Epiphanes? Tell them how filthy your life’s become.”
“Yeah, go ahead. Maybe your old man will complain, and we can use that as an excuse to invade your little country.”

Kinesia may have been bright, but she was still only eleven.

She knew nothing of international politics.

All she knew was that her homeland, Epiphanes, was far poorer and weaker than Paradon.

That if she lost her temper, her mother and father would suffer.

And that, perhaps, her younger siblings might one day endure this same humiliation.

‘If a war broke out because of me…?’

She recalled what she’d seen on her journey to Paradon.

Luxor, her father, cared deeply for every inch of his kingdom — not just the capital — but he lacked the strength to stop the constant raids and invasions along the borders.

There were too few soldiers.

She remembered the ruins of homes, people sobbing as they cradled the bodies of loved ones slain by raiders.

They already suffered enough for being from a weak nation.

She couldn’t let her impatience cost them their homes and families.

So Kinesia endured.

Three years. She just had to endure for three years.

Her clothes were torn, her hair pulled out; not a day went by without a trace of cruelty left on her body.

But after three years, she would return home — to her family, to her country. She could forget everything that had happened here.

Yet that fragile hope shattered a week before she was supposed to leave.

“What… what did you just say?”

“You deaf or something?”

The crown prince of Paradon laughed and kicked her to the ground.

“We’re going with you. To Epiphanes.”

“Ha! She looks stunned.”

“Kinesia, you look thrilled. Don’t tell me you’re that happy to see us.”

Their coarse laughter rang in her ears.

They joked about enslaving royalty, burning villages — disgusting, vile things.

Their words grew filthier, more depraved. Kinesia felt bile rise in her throat.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Her mind went blank with fury, and before she realized it, she screamed and lunged at them.

“Shut your mouth!”

Three years’ worth of pent-up rage exploded all at once.

But the emotions she’d held back for so long were crushed in an instant.

Her limbs were seized, her shoulders forced down until she was kneeling. A heavy palm slammed into her temple like a thunderbolt.

Then came the kicks — relentless, countless blows.

“Look at her crawl after being called cute once.”

Yorgos grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head up.

“This is your place. Remember it well.”

When the crowd finally dispersed, Kinesia was left alone.

Helplessness. Humiliation. Rage. Shame.

All those feelings blended together into something foul, like rotting scraps left to fester in a pit.

And she lay on top of it.

The stench of pain hung around her, seeping into her breath.

The memory of the violence replayed over and over in her mind. But worse than the pain itself… was the fear.

She was terrified — a pathetic coward.

Even the faint chirping of insects made her flinch and curl up.

“Hh… hhngh…”

All she could do was sob quietly, crushed by despair.

If only her country had been stronger, wealthier… none of this would have happened.

What could she do to never feel this fear again? How could she overcome such disgraceful weakness?

As time passed, her body shrank into itself.

Then, from somewhere nearby, a stranger’s voice spoke.

“Are you all right?”

Kinesia gasped, scrambling backward across the ground.

She looked up and saw a man in a dark hood.

“Who are you?”

Beneath the hood, a pair of crimson lips curved faintly.

The man pulled back his hood and met her gaze.

He reached out, and a soft, pale violet light enveloped her body. The pain and humiliation faded like a dream.

Kinesia looked down at her now-pristine body, then up at him again.

Their eyes met.

“You seem… tormented,” he said.

Lowering her trembling hands, Kinesia slowly looked up at him.

On a day without sun or moon, standing somewhere between night and dawn — the man’s red lips parted.

“I can help you.”

His voice drifted like a dream — until a knock at the door shattered the memory.

Kinesia jolted upright, snapping out of her recollection.

“Come in.”

The door opened without a reply.

She tried to compose herself, but seeing who it was, she relaxed.

Logrie walked in without a word and demanded,

“I heard you were hurt. Who did that to you?”

“Is that the first thing you say after three years?”

“Fine—how’ve you been, Kinesia? Glad you’re back. Now, who did it? Was it you?”

His “greeting” was brisk, his tone cold. The longer he spoke, the colder his eyes grew.

“It’d better not be.”

Something about his stiff smile sent a chill down her spine.

“I had a fight with the Paradon prince.”

“Is that so?”

Logrie replied lightly and sat down at her feet.

Now that his curiosity was satisfied, the menace vanished as though it had never been there. He smiled again, gently.

“Thanks for telling me.”

Then he turned and left without hesitation.

Kinesia half-rose, staring at the closed door, then let out a faint, hollow laugh.

She already knew Logrie’s attitude toward Ria was… unusual. But today, it seemed even more so.

‘But it’s not even Ria in that body…’

Her conscience pricked. With a sigh, she stood fully and decided to wash up.

When she emerged and tried to rest on the bed, another visitor arrived.

“Your Highness, the youngest princess asked me to deliver this.”

A maid handed her an ointment and left.

Kinesia turned the container over in her hands, thinking of the Emperor of Irlane.

‘Maybe he isn’t such a bad man after all.’

She opened it and applied the salve to her wounds. A cool sensation spread across her skin, and a faint bluish-purple light shimmered before sinking into her flesh.

It was a feeling she’d experienced before.

Her scalp tingled as realization crept in. She rubbed her hand over the area, wiping away the ointment.

Where the wound had been, fresh skin had already grown.

“Yaaawn.”

Maybe that brawl yesterday wore me out more than I thought.

I wiped the tear from my eye and looked down the corridor.

Since I’d promised to help Kinesia, I needed to at least figure out how this country was being run.

If I joined the meeting, I could get a sense of the atmosphere — how shaky the kingdom really was.

So I’d decided to wait here, planning to pester Luxor into letting me attend the treasury council.

‘It should start any minute now…’

So where is he?

I craned my neck, and there he was — Luxor, walking this way with only one scruffy-looking man in tow.