Night settled over the Arcadia Royal Palace. In bed, Atalanta tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Eventually she pulled on some clothes, got up in irritation, and began pacing.
The chamber was spacious, yet it felt like a sealed cage. The light silk clinging to her skin felt sticky and unpleasant, and the gemstone necklace and hair ornaments, meant to display her status, jingled with every movement. Pointless and irritating. All of it made her restless.
Was this really the home she'd dreamed of countless times? The life she'd longed for because she never had it? Boring. Shallow.
Like a lioness locked in a gilded cage, she raised an eyebrow in self-mockery, yanked a glittering trinket from its rack, and threw it into a drawer. Then she pulled open the cumbersome silk robes, ready to change into loose hunting clothes.
But when she searched through the cabinets—completely empty—her breath caught and her brow tightened. To please her "father," she had thrown away everything that marked her lowly origins.
She stood there for a moment, a mix of confusion and loss flickering across her face. Her restless hunter's gaze drifted around the room until something stored high above caught her attention.
The pelt of a Magical Beast, washed clean and fixed to the wall with wedges, still looked almost alive. But the heavy perfume soaked into it had stripped away any trace of its former ferocity. Who would have thought that the hide of the Calydon Demon Boar, which had claimed the lives of so many heroes, would end up as nothing more than decoration? And wasn't she the same?
Atalanta pushed open the window. The night breeze swept in, clearing the air with a crisp freshness. Her green eyes reflected the half-finished stands and racecourse at the edge of the royal city, and a tight heaviness pressed against her chest. A desire to break free from this cage and run into the wild surged through her.
Just as she stepped onto the windowsill and leaned out, a figure clinging to the outer wall like a gecko jumped up and slipped through the open window. With the moonlight behind it, it landed in front of her, staring with a strange, blank expression.
A breeze stirred the blue hair brushing against her skin, leaving a light, ticklish sensation. Atalanta jerked back, suddenly realizing she still wasn't properly dressed.
"Uh… boss lady, what a coincidence…"
A loud thud followed.
Atalanta's face went scarlet. She covered her chest with her left arm, grabbed a table ornament with her right, and hurled it at the intruder.
"Get out!"
The room filled with the sound of things breaking as the figure scrambled away. Lamps flared in the corridor. Two maids hurried over and knocked.
"Your Highness, are you alright?"
"It's… nothing. Just a mouse…"
"A mouse? But we cleaned thoroughly—"
"It's summer. Mice show up. What's strange about that?"
Still flushed, Atalanta shot a glance at the creature pinned in the corner. Her right hand pressed over his half-opened mouth, her cold stare full of warning.
"I meant no offense, Your Highness. Do you need us to come in and clean?"
"No! It's handled. I'm tired. Go. We'll talk tomorrow."
The footsteps faded. The lights went out. Only then did Atalanta slowly withdraw her hand, teeth clenched, her expression darkening.
But before she could explode, the intruder had already picked up the divine beast pelt from the wall and quietly held it out to her.
"Turn around!"
Atalanta let out a flustered snort. Samael stole one last glance at the exposed spring scenery before obediently turning his back.
As the rustling of clothes filled the room, Atalanta spoke in a muffled tone.
"What are you doing here?"
"To participate in the matchmaking, of course."
Samael's casual answer made the huntress behind him freeze. Her expression darkened, her eyes sinking with tension.
"What? You want to become the husband of the Princess of Arcadia? You want to inherit my father's throne?"
When the rustling stopped, Samael turned around and grinned, looking at the now-defensive huntress whose hackles were practically raised.
"Alright, alright, no need to joke. I came because I saw the message you left, Big Sister. I rushed over to help."
"Help? What help could I possibly need from you? I left that address only because I was worried you wouldn't be able to get by and would have nowhere to go."
Atalanta's expression eased a little. She snorted lightly and turned her head aside, the corner of her lips lifting almost imperceptibly in the dark.
A faint, inexplicable warmth settled into her chest.
"So, doesn't that mean I came specifically to rely on you?"
Samael muttered under his breath, mischief flickering in his eyes.
"To put it simply, you're participating in the race tomorrow too?"
The moment he brought it up, Atalanta's mood worsened. Even the way she looked at Samael grew distant.
"Of course!"
Samael admitted without hesitation, then softened his gaze as he looked at her.
"But I'm coming for you, Big Sister, not for the Princess of Arcadia."
Atalanta frowned slightly, arms crossed as she leaned against a courtyard pillar. "What difference does that make?"
Samael rolled his eyes and spread his hands helplessly.
"It's completely different.
I want to win, but not to force you into marriage or to covet the Arcadia throne. I just need the title as a pretext to give you back your freedom."
The unexpected answer left Atalanta stunned. She stared at Samael, whispering unconsciously.
"Why?"
Samael stepped closer and gave her shoulder a friendly pat, smiling brightly.
"For a lionness, only the wide wilderness and harsh mountains are the true place she belongs, where she can run and roam free.
Big Sister, I once admired you and followed your footsteps. That's why I don't want this worldly cage to trap you, to strip away what you're meant to be."
Leaning against the windowsill, bathed in moonlight, Samael blinked mischievously and grinned.
"So really, whoever the Princess of Arcadia is doesn't matter. It's just a boring certificate of bloodline.
But in this world, there's only one huntress who can bring down the Calydonian Boar: Atalanta."
As the Ancient Serpent turned, a figure suddenly fell into his arms. Two arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her head buried against his chest, and a faint voice escaped.
"Thank you…"
"What's there to thank me for? You were the one helping me all along. Now it's only right I help you once."
Samael shook his head as if soothing a lost child, smiling as he gently stroked Atalanta's hair.
In his arms, the huntress felt as though she had returned to the familiar forests and mountain streams. Here, she didn't need to twist her nature to earn approval or navigate complicated human hearts. She only had to be herself.
This long-separated reunion brought both nostalgia and comfort, slowly smoothing the loneliness inside her.
The only flaw in this perfect moment was—
"You little brat. I can tolerate your weird habits, but could you stop messing with my tail? To a lionness, that's a provocation. Understand?!"
Atalanta shot a low, icy glare at the hand misbehaving behind her.
...
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