The young servant swallowed hard, his throat dry as sand. "Y-Your Majesty…" he began, but the words faltered on his tongue.
The young servant couldn't help but wonder why people worshipped and feared her so much.
The woman from the prophecy was nothing like the stories—nothing like the majestic being everyone imagined. She didn't speak in riddles, didn't radiate divine energy. If anything, she looked… ordinary. Too ordinary.
"She's… different from what everyone believes," he finally managed, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry to say this, Your Majesty, but I don't understand Her Grace at all. S-she spoke in a strange way, using words that don't even exist in our vocabulary."
The emperor's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Continue."
"She spoke about things I couldn't comprehend," the boy went on, his words tumbling faster now. "And—and she doesn't want to eat dragon and monster cuisine! She said she doesn't want food that stares at her! Then she asked if she could have… plants instead."
"Plants?" the emperor repeated slowly.
"Yes, Your Majesty! Grass! Or what she say salad!" The boy nearly squeaked. "I-I don't know what food I should give Her Grace, Your Majesty. Please grant me more time to understand her before she starts… eating the palace garden."
A silence fell over the chamber.
The emperor's expression remained still, carved in ice but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, as though he were fighting back a smile.
"Did she say anything else?"
The boy hesitated, lowering his head. "Yes, Your Majesty. She asked me… where we came from. And then she said she doesn't believe in the Light Pool."
The emperor's gaze sharpened instantly. "She doesn't believe in the Light Pool?"
The servant nodded weakly. "She said it like she was certain—like she knew something we didn't. And for a moment… I thought she mentioned something about b-bio… biology?"
The emperor leaned back slowly, his gloved hands clasping together. The torchlight flickered across his face, throwing restless shadows that made his expression unreadable.
The servant dared a glance upward and in that fleeting moment, he caught something unfamiliar in the emperor's eyes, a spark of fascination with curiousity
"Interesting.." the emperor murmured, almost to himself. "So she questions even the Light Pool… and refuses dragon cuisine."
He rose, the folds of his cloak whispering softly against the obsidian floor. "That will be all. You will tell no one of this conversation, not a word, not even to the knights who guarded the chamber. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." the boy answered quickly, bowing so deeply his forehead nearly brushed the cold stone floor.
"Good." The emperor's voice softened, but only slightly. He turned toward the moonlit window.
"The prophecy may be false or true but either way, I intend to see it through on my own terms. You have one mission," he added, his tone turning grave. "Watch the woman of the prophecy. Guard her… until the very end."
"Y-Yes, Your Majesty."
The young servant remained kneeling long after the emperor's footsteps faded into silence.
Outside the meeting hall, the emperor exhaled quietly, his breath heavy with exhaustion. Now that everyone was panicking over the arrival of the woman from the prophecy, his duties had only multiplied.
Every noble demanded answers—and yet none of them truly knew what to believe.
As he walked down the long marble corridor toward his private chambers, he slowed. Something strange tugged faintly at his senses.
The closer he came to the wing where she was being kept, the heavier the air seemed to grow.
A faint scent lingered—soft, foreign, and oddly sweet. It wasn't perfume, but something entirely unfamiliar.
He frowned, trying to ignore the unease stirring in his chest. The first time he had seen her, that scent had already been there. But now it was stronger, filling the corridor like invisible smoke that clung to his mind.
The emperor paused by the tall doors leading to her chamber, his hand brushing the cold metal handle. His heartbeat had quickened, though he couldn't explain why.
This is absurd, he told himself. It's just a woman… just a prophecy.
And yet, deep down, something in him whispered otherwise.
Maybe the curse that surrounded the woman of the prophecy was already beginning to take effect.
-------
On the other hand…
Ggrrrrowwlll~~
"Ugh, I'm hungry," Aira groaned, clutching her stomach. "When is that little servant coming back?"
Her eyes darted toward the heavy door for what must have been the tenth time. It hadn't opened since the boy left over an hour ago, and she was starting to regret refusing the food earlier.
She rolled over the soft silk sheets again, kicking her legs restlessly as her stomach growled even louder. "What if I just… stop being picky and eat whatever they brought me?" she muttered under her breath.
Her gaze slid toward the silver tray sitting innocently on the table—a feast fit for royalty, covered in dishes that shimmered faintly with heat and color. From afar, it looked beautiful. Up close, however, it was terrifying.
A roasted dragon tail and several monster heads glistened under a golden sauce. And the soup? It had scales floating in it.
"Nope." She sat up immediately, shaking her head so fast her hair brushed against her cheeks. "Absolutely not. I'm hungry, but I'm not that hungry."
Her stomach protested again, louder this time.
"Oh, shut up," she muttered, pressing her palm against it. "You think I'll risk getting eaten back by whatever that thing is? Not today."
With a sigh, she flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling above her. The patterns were strange, dragons and suns etched in a language she couldn't read. Everything in this place screamed ancient fantasy, like she had fallen into one of those stories she used to read online.
"How did I even end up here?" she whispered to herself. "Imperial Palace, prophecy, Light Pool…? What does that even mean?"
She sat up again, her expression softening for a brief moment as she looked at the closed door. "That kid looked so scared earlier," she murmured. "I hope he doesn't get in trouble just because I asked for salad."
A small laugh escaped her lips at the absurdity of it all. "Imagine, the woman from the prophecy… craving salad."
She sighed again, curling her knees to her chest. "But seriously," she grumbled, "if that servant doesn't come back soon, I might just chew on the curtains. Or the pillow. Or—"
Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound from outside—the muffled footsteps of guards, followed by the creak of the door's latch turning.
Her head snapped up instantly.
"Finally!" she whispered, straightening her wrinkled clothes and brushing her hair back in a hurry.
But when the door opened… it wasn't the young servant.
The air shifted. The soft light from the corridor spilled into the room, and a tall, imposing figure stepped inside, his sharp eyes glinting like obsidian under the torchlight.
Her excitement froze mid-breath.
Oh no.
It wasn't the servant.
It was him—the emperor.
"What are you doing here?" Aira asked, her voice caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion.
But instead of answering, the emperor simply stared at her.
His gaze steady, unreadable, and far too intense. There was something strange about his eyes—they glimmered faintly red, catching the light like burning embers.
Aira felt a prickle of unease crawl down her spine. What the heck happened to this guy? Is he on drugs?
Instinctively, she took a small step back, her pulse quickening as he began to move closer slowly like a predator approaching curious prey.