Chapter 1
The Morning Mist of Shadows, The Poison Flower’s Departure
──Sage, oregano, mint, and rosemary.
In the early morning mist, the herb garden was filled with the fresh, green scent of perennial herbs growing thick and strong.
It was almost sunrise. Golden rays broke through the fog like threads of light, announcing the start of a clear new day. Yet Bertina, busily pulling weeds in the garden, wore a face as expressionless and rigid as an iron mask.
She had lived in this garden since she could remember. Caring for the herbs each morning was her routine—but today would be the last time.
The snow of winter had melted, spring had passed, and the plants were lush in early summer. Today was Bertina’s seventeenth birthday. It was also the day she would leave to marry into the Shadow Kingdom.
Marriage itself meant little to her. She felt no special worries. If anything, her only concern was the fate of the flowers and herbs in the garden, inherited from the wise woman who had raised her.
…Though, after all, this was still the castle’s land. Surely some healer or gardener would take care of them. It was needless worry. Thinking so, Bertina brushed off her skirt of dark brown cloth and rose gracefully to her feet.
Though a princess by birth, she had been forbidden to live in the castle and instead spent her life in this hidden garden. At first, she lived here with the old healer woman of the castle, but that woman died five years ago. Since then, Bertina had lived completely alone.
Yet her life was never inconvenient.
Each day, servants left food—bread, milk, sausages—at the garden’s gate. She also grew crops in her little field, so she was never in want of anything to eat.
There was a well near the old watchtower, the Bergfried, and even a fine bathtub made from a beechwood barrel. She could bathe daily. The wise woman’s shelves of books remained, offering her small amusements. But after seventeen years, she had read every one many times, their words engraved into her memory.
Still, Bertina loved books. They were her only window to the outside world.
Whether tales of adventure and romance, or poems from distant lands, she loved imagining the scenes they described.
A springtime town filled with color. A fluffy, whimsical creature called a “cat,” basking in the sun. A loyal animal called a “dog,” running through a summer vineyard in the breeze.
Even with her cold nature, imagining these things stirred something in her.
Of course, she could see the landscape beyond the fence, but the finer details of the outside world were unknown to her.
She longed for it.
As a child, she had tried several times to escape the garden, but failed each time. As she grew older, she lost the will to try.
The garden gate was locked by cold iron bars, and beyond the fence lay cliffs. A single misstep could mean death.
But the greater reason was this: she had come to feel disgust. No matter how much she longed for the outside, she had no desire to see the truth of her kingdom.
The wise woman had once told her:
“This kingdom grew by war—invading, stealing land from small neighboring countries, and claiming them as its own.”
Her own homeland, the woman said, had been swallowed by Vermeburg more than fifty years ago. In those wars, not just her home, but her parents, her lover, and her closest friends—all had been lost.
“Yes, I was bitter, and I hated them,” the woman had said. “But such is the tide of history. I cannot deny I still hold anger, but I am grateful to have lived this long, given work, even after all was taken.”
Those words, filled with sorrow for the dead, had sunk deeply into Bertina’s heart.
Her hatred for her kingdom grew sharper when she learned the curse upon her had also been caused by its wars.
In burning the northern forest—believed to lead into the Shadow Kingdom—the kingdom had enraged the fairies. And so they cursed her. Even Bertina herself felt it was deserved.
Still, despite being cursed, the effects were almost nothing.
She looked like any other person. She had no strange powers. Each year, a magician came to inspect her, claiming her magical energy was growing stronger, but Bertina felt nothing.
The only mark of her curse was the flower-shaped sigil etched across her chest in winding patterns, as if born with it.
But that alone was enough for others to shun her.
Her parents, the king and queen, had never once come to see her. To them, she was simply something shameful to hide.
They were rulers who had conquered countless nations. Why would they show love or pity to a cursed child? In time, Bertina grew certain they never would.
From the wise woman, she had heard that she had a younger brother and sister.
The throne would pass to her brother—it was easy to imagine. Her sister, too, would surely be married to some noble or prince abroad.
And Bertina herself would be sent away to another realm.
It was as if, the moment her brother was born, her own existence as firstborn had been erased.
Yet she felt no sadness, no bitterness.
All she held for her kingdom and her royal family was contempt and hatred. That was why she had no fear of marrying into the Shadow Kingdom.
That realm, after all, was said to be the other side of this world. If the human world was “sunlight,” then the Shadow Kingdom was its “shade.”
Long ago, humans and such beings had lived together. But their values clashed, and the beings withdrew, creating their own world—the Shadow Kingdom.
Its people were not human, but creatures of magic. To humans, they were monsters.
It was said some still wandered into the human world at night, but few had ever seen them. When they did, the beings disguised themselves.
Books described them as half-human with features of animals or plants, or as fairies—the opposite of angels or holy spirits. Evil beings, yet intelligent ones. But in truth, Bertina knew only what books told her.
And from all she had heard, she suspected they were not as fearsome as humans claimed.
Hadn’t the queen of shadows herself pitied her, even trying to break her curse? To Bertina, that seemed more humane than her own people.
I won’t know until I go. But surely… it will be better than this rotten kingdom.
Maybe there, she could simply exist as an ordinary being. With that faint hope hidden in her heart, Bertina lifted her eyes to the sky.
Yet it was such a calm morning. She could hardly believe today was her wedding day.
(Well then… we’ll see what comes.)
Her icy blue eyes narrowed, and she shook her head with a quiet sigh.
