Chapter 7
“Hah!”
Siara bolted upright, her eyes flying wide open.
A dream…
Had it been a dream?
She had dreamed of the day her family was slaughtered.
The dream was so vivid that even the sensation of her blood-stained hand wiping from her face down to her chest felt real.
“Hah. Huhuk.”
Panting and covered in cold sweat, she quickly scanned her surroundings, on alert.
The sun had already set, leaving the world outside the window pitch black. Intricately patterned tiles and various ornaments glittered beautifully in the candlelight.
Where was this?
For a moment, she couldn’t comprehend why she was in such an unfamiliar place.
“Ah…… I blocked the procession of the Imperial Princes.”
That’s right.
After vowing revenge, she had crossed the winter plains for 21 days, finally arriving today at the capital of the Shirkohin Empire.
She had gone straight to find the noble her uncle had mentioned, only to hear that the Emperor was gravely ill and might not last the day.
She had been standing lost on the street when she heard the horn announcing the Princes’ procession approaching…
The First Prince, Aksos, had ordered her execution, but the Fourth Prince, Kal Lago, had saved her.
This was inside the Imperial Palace of the Shirkohin Empire, a detached residence belonging to the personal palace of the Fourth Prince, Kal Lago.
Where Kal Lago had said, ‘This is where you will live from today.’
“Hoo.”
Only then did she relax, sweeping back her sweat-dampened hair.
But remembering Kal Lago—that disheveled man—anxiety surged again, making her heart beat faster.
They said he was the ‘Crippled Prince,’ and it was true.
His disability was even more severe than she had imagined.
When he descended from his carriage, she saw his left arm hung limp, his left hand curled and unable to straighten, and he dragged his left leg as he walked… Sshhik…
But it was a choice already made.
She had to use this man, who had no right of succession, to somehow rescue her mother and sister and exact revenge on Moloi, Vaskahan, and Shiran.
Click.
At the sound of the door opening, she turned her head. Four women entered, bent one knee, and paid their respects.
The one at the front was a middle-aged woman with a stern impression.
She must have been quite beautiful in her youth, but a long scar ran down her face.
“I am the head maid, Nishta. From today, these three maids and I will attend to you.”
For a moment, she almost gave her name as ‘Siara.’
Siara stated her new name.
“I am Kasha.”
Perhaps because it was a name taboo on the plains, it still felt unfamiliar on her tongue.
“Let’s start with a bath.”
At Nishta’s glance, the maids flocked over, trembling, and tried to remove her ragged male clothing.
It was her brother’s clothes, which she had worn in disguise when she left the tent, vowing revenge.
Disliking anyone touching her, Siara immediately blocked their hands.
“No. I’ll take them off myself.”
“In the Imperial Palace, only the palace residents themselves remove and put on their own clothes.”
Nishta informed her in an emotionless tone.
Was that how women in the Imperial Palace were?
It still felt awkward, but Siara obediently allowed the maids’ hands to tend to her.
However, when the maids tried to take her sister’s thimble and her mother’s handkerchief, she refused to relinquish them.
She had brought these items, fervently praying, ‘so that someday I can surely give them back to my mother and sister when we meet again…’
She didn’t need to explain her reasons at length to them.
Siara recalled the exact manner her father used when giving orders to the Asla men.
“I will keep these myself.”
After making her intention clear, she called the head maid’s name like a command, standing straight and tall.
“Nishta.”
Nishta stared intently at her, dressed in beggar’s rags, for a few seconds, then bowed her head briefly, implying she would comply.
Stripped of her dirty clothes, Siara was led to the bath.
The first thing that caught her eye in the bathroom was the round tiled tub filled with hot water.
It was a large tub, big enough for ten people. The fact that heated water could be used so freely felt blasphemously luxurious.
Siara carefully stepped into the ornate tub, submerged herself, leaned back halfway, and closed her eyes.
It was comfort to the point of dizziness.
Moreover, the maids meticulously and diligently attended to her, from her hair to her fingernails and toenails.
Thanks to this, the fatigue and tension accumulated from her journey across the plains melted away, and she felt she might doze off right there.
Siara shook her head and barely managed to open her eyes.
She had to keep her wits about her.
Tonight, she would have to sleep with Kal Lago.
“Please rise. We will dress you in a Rosa.”
Upon leaving the tub, the maids immediately dried her body with a large towel and dressed her in a soft purple silk garment.
The ‘Rosa’ was a long dress, scandalously revealing her shoulders and the upper part of her chest.
The fabric was so smooth and thin it seemed her body’s outline would be visible if she stood in sunlight. The thin fabric draped straight down to her feet, swaying and hinting at her curves.
They fastened a gold-thread embroidered belt around her waist, and because it was winter, added a thick outer coat that emphasized the bust.
“We will take our leave. Please call for us whenever you need anything.”
Head Maid Nishta led her to the opulent bedroom, paid a stiff courtesy, and withdrew.
Siara stood with a cold face, waiting for the maids to leave. Only when she was alone did she sit on the edge of the bed.
“Euk.”
The strange sensation of her whole body being sucked in made her startle and stand up again.
The bedding was incredibly thick and plush, white, light, soft, and warm—it felt like sitting on a cloud.
She genuinely wanted to lie down.
It seemed it would be immensely blissful to lay her head on this wide, cozy bed and sleep.
The moment she thought of sleeping, an overwhelming, heavy fatigue washed over her.
But she fought her desire, kept her eyes wide open, and sat waiting for Kal Lago.
Morning.
A long sigh, weary with fatigue, escaped her.
The maids flocked into the bedroom, helped Siara wash her face, and brought her breakfast.
She had stayed awake all night, stubbornly fighting off sleepiness that threatened to make her faint, but the Fourth Prince, Kal Lago, had not come.
Why hadn’t he come?
It was true that his absence made her both anxious and relieved.
Frankly, she was so exhausted she was worried she might fall asleep if she actually had relations with Kal Lago.
Thud.
She collapsed sideways onto the bed.
Siara closed her stiff, aching eyes and finally let the tension drain from her body.
Kal Lago did not come.
The next day, either.
And the day after that was the same.
The moment a week passed, Siara became certain she had been left here, abandoned in this detached residence.
Perhaps thinking the same, the maids’ attitudes also began to change.
For the first three days, they had served her with trembling fear, treating her like precious jade, afraid of being chosen for the mad prince’s palace. But now, even in the small gesture of setting down a teacup, insolence seeped through.
Siara did not show any wavering.
She never let her anxiety show on the surface.
Not that she wasn’t seething inside.
If he was just going to lock her away like this, then why?
Why on earth did he go to such lengths, causing such a scene, to bring her to his palace?
Perhaps he had simply wanted to publicly ‘save’ the woman his elder brother had publicly ordered ‘killed.’
Just to provoke his brother Aksos.
If that were the case, it was obvious Kal Lago would remain utterly indifferent like this in the future.
She had clearly drawn the wrong card.
A terribly wrong card.
Women couldn’t become Emperor, so Imperial Princesses were completely removed from power.
But the Fourth Prince, Kal Lago, was even further from power than those princesses.
He was a cripple, someone everyone considered completely ‘out of the question.’
The only small mercy was that cripples originally had no right of succession and thus couldn’t receive a personal palace, but the Emperor, fond of Kal Lago, had granted him one.
However, it was said that Kal Lago’s nature was so violent he had turned this palace, once praised for its beauty within the Imperial Palace, into ruins.
Indeed, aside from the detached residence where she lived, the place was a ruin. Vines covered the walls, climbing even to the roof, creating a gloomy atmosphere. Rotten leaves lay in soggy piles, and dust and grime were thickly accumulated, making it desolate.
Furthermore, rumors were rampant that the souls of people killed by the mad prince wandered here, weeping, so no one dared come near this place, day or night.
“Eeek!”
The three maids who had been cleaning the reception room scattered like bugs swept by a broom and disappeared.
Looking to see why, she saw Head Maid Nishta had appeared.
The three maids were personnel hastily arranged from the rear palace because of Kasha, but Nishta was the woman who had served Kal Lago all along.
Siara called out to the head maid in a clear tone.
“Nishta.”
Nishta paused mid-step, stopped her path, and came to stand before her.
She couldn’t rot away in this abandoned palace. She had to make Kal Lago remember the woman he had brought here was in the detached residence.
“I have a message I wish conveyed to Kal Lago. Go and deliver it to him right now.
