The wind that swept through the castle courtyard carried with it the scent of ancient stone and blooming flowers, battling for dominance against the rich cologne rising from Mike's military coat. They had just stepped out of the grand lobby when their strides halted, there it stood before them, the vehicle Erika had called the "Royal Family's Car."
Mike fell silent.
The vehicle looked like something torn from a royal museum, draped in splendor: its body was a deep obsidian black, gleaming like polished onyx, the wheels adorned with the crest of the realm, and the headlights glowing a cool wolfish blue. To its right, a guard stood straight as a pike, clad in a uniform stitched with golden seams and the kingdom's insignia emblazoned over his chest. His breast was a tapestry of medals and ribbons, each marking a step carved into the long road of service.
Mike approached slowly, his gaze locked on the carriage as if entranced.
"This thing..." he whispered, half in awe, half in suspicion, "...might be worth more than our school's entire computer lab."
Erika snorted, grinning. "Pfft. That trash heap? You're still thinking about school labs when you're neck-deep in power?"
Mike sighed and nodded slowly. "So… you already know why I got thrown into this palace out of nowhere?"
Erika folded her arms and leaned slightly toward him, her voice more grounded now. "Yeah. Because you're the only one who picked and locked a Role. The system dragged you straight into it. No warning, no ceremony."
Mike scoffed, the shadows of the luxurious car casting half his face in gloom. "And if you're here… and the rest of them are waiting in the council room… that means all of you chose your Roles too?"
"Yes," Erika replied. Her tone turned earnest, the usual mask of mischief falling away. "And let me tell you, it's not easy herding a pack of hyenas that constantly bite each other. I… I missed you, Mike."
Mike chuckled dryly a short, bitter sound. "You just don't like getting your hands dirty. Classic Erika."
They both laughed, though it was a mismatched duet each in a different rhythm. Something between them had shifted since school.
A guard opened the door and bowed with precision. Erika entered first. Mike followed. As he stepped in, the guard shielded his head with a bare hand a small gesture, but one carved from years of training and loyalty. Mike gave a respectful nod. Erika signaled for silence, and the door was shut tight behind them. The convoy rolled forward in regal silence.
Inside, Mike sat still for a while, then turned to gaze out the window.
The streets were lined with people, shoulder to shoulder, voices rising in unison. They waved, they cheered, some even wept. A few held their children up to catch a glimpse of him.
Mike's eyes widened, his heart racing. Without thinking, he pressed the window switch. The glass descended, and the wind rushed in, carrying the sound of jubilation with it.
He waved.
"The Prince! Long live the Prince!"
"For the Kingdom! For the new hope!"
The cries roared like a tide crashing against the city. Mike couldn't suppress a smile, as if the praise itself was sunlight warming his very skin.
Beside him, Erika crossed her legs and spoke quietly, "Long live the Prince…" Her voice was less a blessing than a well-aimed arrow.
Mike turned, grinning. "Jealous, milady?"
"Not at all," she replied while adjusting her hair. "But maybe you should close the window."
Mike frowned. "Why? I'm not some arrogant official, Erika. Don't lump me in with our country's politicians."
Erika exhaled sharply. Her voice dropped into a blade's edge cold, clean, and precise. "So your head doesn't catch a bullet from an enemy you don't even know exists."
The words cut deep. Mike's waving hand dropped, fingers moving slowly to the window button. As the glass rose, so did a furrow in his brow.
"Listen," Erika said, her voice low and firm, "if we have a kingdom, then so do the others. We don't know who's conspiring behind their screens. They smile today. Tomorrow, they'll stab you in the spine."
Mike gave a bitter half-laugh. "Heh… Maybe we should just make peace with everyone. No fights. Everything simple."
Erika turned her head, wearing the kind of smirk that could peel flesh from bone. "Then go talk to a tree. Maybe the tree will agree with you."
The car began to slow.
Mike glanced outside and his eyes widened.
Before them loomed a structure like a sleeping titan: walls of dark gray stone layered like a fortress forged by ancient hands. The roof was lined with statues of winged lions and hunting birds. Massive stained-glass windows shimmered with scenes of blood-stained battles and ancient accords.
At its feet sprawled a garden or perhaps more rightly, a forest. Towering trees stretched their limbs skyward, their branches interwoven into a vaulted canopy that nearly blotted out the sky. Exotic birds chirped, and the earthy scent of damp soil mingled with wild blossoms in the air.
Mike stared, speechless. "Wow… Who thought of this?"
Erika studied the edifice for a moment before answering without turning. "Someone who understood that true power is not built on metal and fire, but on fear… wrapped in beauty."
The car came to a halt at the main gate.
"Welcome to the Council Hall, Mike," Erika whispered. "Where kings candidates give their first speech."
Mike blinked, stunned. "You're insane."