"Listen. Listen carefully. Now, I will tell you the story… the story of the just, and the unjust.
THE FLASHBACK BEGINS...
The royal chamber thundered with the herald's cry:
"Bow down! The King of Velvet. The Sword of Three Nations. Rui Yamazaki has arrived!"
The massive doors creaked open, and with them came a silence heavier the heavens.
Then—footsteps.
Each step echoed like a hammer striking the earth, reverberating through the marble pillars, rattling the golden braziers. It was not the stride of a king in ceremony. It was something else—like a mountain dragging its weight across the surface, each step a reminder of the burden he bore.
Rui Yamazaki entered. His face was blank, carved of stone, unreadable as the night. His eyes, sharp and cold, seemed to cut through the chamber itself. Men who had faced battlefields felt their knees weaken beneath that gaze. His very presence pressed upon the skin, suffocating and undeniable.
The two visiting kings felt it first. Their spines bent, their heads lowered, their lips trembled.
One whispered hoarsely, "Why… why are we bowing in front of him?"
The other's voice cracked with fear. "It isn't him. It's his presence. We cannot help it."
The chamber guards said nothing. The nobles did not move. No one dared break the gravity that filled the air.
At last, Rui sat upon the throne of Velvet, the high seat glimmering with iron and gold. He did not sit as a man seeking comfort. He sat as one who bore judgment. His voice cut through the silence, sharp and merciless:
"My kings. You must not bow before me."
The words were not humility. They were a blade—a taunt to test their resolve.
One king, his throat dry, dared to lift his head. His voice quivered as he asked:
"My lord… we heard it said that in Velvet, even kings must bow when entering. Why is that so? Why would even a crowned ruler bend before another throne?"
Rui said nothing. His expression did not shift. The silence grew heavier, stretching like a noose.
Then his minister stepped forward, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. His voice was deep, deliberate, like a bell tolling at a funeral:
"Look at the people."
The kings turned.
And their hearts froze.
The chamber was not filled with nobles alone. Behind the gilded rows, standing in defiance of courtly tradition, were common people. Farmers with dirt-stained hands. Blacksmiths still in soot. Mothers carrying children swaddled in cloth. Their eyes—all of them—were fixed on Rui.
And in those eyes burned something the visiting kings had never seen: not fear, not obedience, not submission—
but unshakable devotion.
Their faces were wet with tears, but their spines were straight. Their fists were clenched, not in rebellion, but in reverence.
One king's voice cracked as realization struck. "By the gods… no wonder they call him the King-Slayer…"
The other swallowed hard, his words trembling.
"In Velvet… a crown means nothing. A throne means nothing. Even a king is nothing—before the people's will."
The chamber thundered—not with applause, not with words, but with silence that carried more weight than steel.
Rui leaned forward, his gaze like fire. His presence was not of a man who ruled by crown or law. He ruled because the people had chosen him, and their loyalty was sharper than any blade.
---
Suddenly— the chamber doors cracked open with a violent kick.
Rui shot up, his face pale. Sweat ran down his temples.
"You—!" he shouted.
A mud-covered man stood at the doorway, teeth grinding.
"You bloody—"
"Wait! It wasn't me!" Rui stammered, raising his hands.
But the man lunged. A fist of mud struck forward. Rui shielded a minister instead of himself — the blow landed, splattering filth across the poor man's face.
The minister trembled. "M-my lord…?"
Rui burst out laughing. "Look at your face! Hahaha!" He clutched his stomach.
"That's not funny! You dragged me in front of that!"
"Sorry… hahahaha!" Rui wheezed.
"RUUUUUIIIIII!" the mud-man roared.
The visiting kings blinked in disbelief. "What is this madness…?"
Another mud-splash hit them. Robes ruined.
"Lucas!" Rui barked. "Enough! You've shamed our guests!"
"Hah?! You tricked me, covered me in mud — now it's your turn!" Lucas charged again.
---
Earlier that day…
"Hey Lucas, why don't we hang out in the royal park?" Rui had said casually.
"Sure, why not."
As Lucas walked ahead, Rui lingered back and flicked his eyes toward a servant.
Lucas took a step— boom! He fell straight into a pit trap. Oil splashed down over him.
"Ruiiiiii! You bastard! Get me out!" Lucas screamed, slipping in the slick hole.
Rui bent over, laughing. "You called me a bitch in your letter. This is your fine!"
"We're best friends! Don't do this!"
"Best friend or not, you're staying there tonight!" Rui cackled as he walked away.
By morning, Lucas had climbed out. And now, dripping with mud, he was chasing Rui through the royal chamber.
Rui dashed toward the exit, cloak whipping behind him. Lucas barreled after, but Rui slipped through the gates and into the marketplace.
The people spotted their king and instantly closed ranks, forming a wall of bodies around Rui. Their voices rose like thunder:
"My king, is this man harassing you?"
Lucas skidded to a stop, hands flailing. "H-hey, no, no! I wasn't harassing him! We were just—just playing, right Rui? Tell them!"
Rui's lips curled into a wicked smile. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.
"No. He was harassing me."
Lucas froze. His jaw clenched. "You… bitch."
The people surged toward him, fists ready. "How dare you insult the king!"
Lucas threw his hands up, shouting desperately. "I told you, we were just playing! Playing!"
But no explanation could pierce their devotion. The mob roared and advanced.
Lucas bolted through the crowd, ducking flying fists. "Fine! You win this round, Rui! But hear me! The revenge of mud… will be paid back with mud!"
Behind him, Rui chuckled, that nasty grin still carved into his face.
The people of Velvet, after driving Lucas away with curses and fists, pressed closer around Rui. They bowed low, their voices rising together like prayer.
"Our king, why have you come here, to this filthy place? For us you are more than king—you are god, you are—"
Rui's voice cut through, sharp and unyielding.
"Enough."
Silence fell like thunder.
Rui's eyes swept across them, his tone no longer playful but heavy with conviction.
"I have told you many times—I am not your god. I am not your hero. Your bowing, your worship—it doesn't matter. I am your king, and that is enough. Enough for me to walk these streets, to see your faces, to laugh with you, to carry your burdens, to share your pain. Enough to fight for you, to protect you… to bleed for you if I must."
The crowd trembled. Tears welled in their eyes. Their sobs spread like a tide, yet instead of raising their heads, they bowed lower still, their foreheads pressing against the earth.
"No… Rui Yamazaki. You are more than king. You are the true sword of Velvet… the Sword of Three Nations."
The air itself seemed to quiver under the weight of their words.
The people, overwhelmed with love, lifted King Rui upon their shoulders. His protests rang out above the roar of voices.
"Hey—hey! I told you not to—"
But their reply drowned him.
"My king, let us! We are not nobles. We have no books, no titles, no riches. But this—this is the one thing we can do best. To carry you. To serve you."
Rui fell into silence. Slowly, a warm, wide smile touched his lips.
"Very well then… show me the market."
And so they did.
As they bore him through the streets, faces turned from every corner. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Mothers left their homes with children in their arms. Smiths laid down their hammers, and beggars rose to their feet. All for a glimpse, a fleeting heartbeat in Rui's presence.
The crowd swelled like a river breaking its banks. Hundreds became thousands. Thousands became tens of thousands. Soon, the entire marketplace was alive, a sea of bodies surging forward, chanting his name.
When at last they reached the royal palace, Rui was not merely carried to the royale palace—he was delivered, a king escorted not by guards but by the will of his people.
---
Inside the grand chamber, the two visiting kings sat in stunned silence. The scent of mud still clung to the marble, remnants of the earlier chaos.
One gagged, covering his nose. "It stinks…"
The other's head tilted, ears straining. "Wait. Do you hear that sound?"
A thunderous roar echoed, not of battle, but of devotion.
Suddenly, ministers and nobles scrambled to the doors. Even the two kings rose, drawn by instinct. What they beheld beyond the chamber left them pale.
A tide of humanity flooded the palace grounds—men, women, children, nobles, paupers alike—every face alive with unshakable loyalty. Rui was lifted above them, high as a banner.
The first king whispered, his voice trembling.
"Impossible… it has only been five years. How can a man win this in five years?"
The second king shook his head, sweat dripping down his temple.
"No throne, no army, no gold could forge this. This is not loyalty bought. This is devotion born of truth. In Velvet… even kings must bow not to crowns, but to the man called Rui Yamazaki."
Their eyes widened as the chants shook the sky:
"Rui! Rui! Rui!"