Chapter2
Suddenly—
A shadow dropped in front of her.
She pulled out her knife instantly.
The man landed awkwardly and groaned.
Man:
"Ah—! That hurt!"
Princess:
"Who are you? How did you get in here?"
Man:
"Well… I'm just a worker at the Grande."
Princess:
"Then why were you hanging from the ceiling?"
He rubbed his head.
Man:
"Some soldiers were making fun of me. I beat them up, and now I'm trying to escape."
Her brow twitched.
Princess:
"And you dare say this so casually—in front of me?"
Man:
"I'm not wrong. I was protecting what matters to me."
He met her eyes.
Man:
"My respect."
The Princess slowly lowered her blade, studying him.
She turned and began to walk away.
Man:
"Aren't you angry? I thought you'd kill me."
Without stopping, she replied—
Princess:
"I don't have time for foolish things."
Her footsteps faded into the noise of the ball.
Morning light spilled over the palace balcony.
The Princess stood alone, a book resting open in her hands, though her eyes hadn't moved across the pages for a while. Her thoughts drifted—until something pulled her attention downward.
Her gaze met a familiar face in the courtyard below.
The man from last night.
He was carrying crates now, sleeves rolled up, moving casually among the guards as if he belonged there. He looked different in daylight—less chaotic, more human.
She turned slightly toward a nearby servant.
Princess:
"Who is he?"
The servant followed her gaze.
Servant:
"That is John, Your Highness. He's new. Still on trial."
The Princess said nothing, her eyes lingering a moment longer.
Footsteps approached.
Marco:
"Princess. We're ready to leave. Miss Esabell has found a clue."
Her attention snapped back.
Princess:
"Where is she? Bring her."
Marco called out, and moments later Esabell hurried in, clutching papers tightly.
Princess:
"So—what did you find?"
Esabell took a breath.
Esabell:
"Monesa's body is cursed… but not entirely."
The Princess stiffened.
Esabell:
"She still carries a fragment of divine purity. The god she killed—his power didn't disappear with him."
Princess:
"Then wherever she is… that purity remains."
Esabell nodded.
Esabell:
"Yes. Her body will emit a holy light. If we can find another Chosen Angel, they can lead us to it. They can see the purity."
Silence fell.
Princess:
"But the last one is dead."
Esabell's voice lowered.
Esabell:
"That was inevitable. Once a Chosen Angel witnesses Monesa's purity, the curse kills them."
Marco scoffed.
Marco:
"Huh? Do you have any idea how rare Chosen Angels are?"
He crossed his arms.
Marco:
"They're human. And no one volunteers to die."
Esabell clenched her fists.
Esabell:
"But we don't have another way."
The Princess exhaled slowly.
Princess:
"Marco. Find someone."
He looked at her sharply.
Princess:
"Esabell—search for another method too. We can't keep sacrificing angels."
Esabell nodded, uneasy.
Esabell:
"I… I'll try."
Marco laughed harshly.
Marco:
"Try harder. 'Trying' won't save anyone."
The Princess turned, her voice cold and final.
Princess:
"Both of you—get out."
They froze.
Then silently obeyed.
The balcony returned to stillness.
The Princess looked down once more.
John was gone.
Night wrapped the palace garden in silence.
Moonlight spilled across stone paths and tall trees, illuminating a lone figure moving with precision.
The Princess practiced alone.
Her sword sliced through the air again and again—clean, controlled, merciless. Her eyes glowed with focus, her stance fearless. Every movement carried intent, as if the blade were an extension of her will.
Suddenly—
She felt it.
A presence.
Her body stilled. In one swift motion, she turned and aimed her sword toward the shadows.
Princess:
"Come out."
A figure stepped from behind a tree, hands raised.
It was John.
John:
"Well… I was just looking."
In an instant, the Princess closed the distance and pressed her blade against his neck.
Princess:
"Why are you here at this hour?"
John:
"Just walking."
She applied a little pressure. The steel kissed his skin.
John:
"Alright—alright. I heard a noise. Came to check. Then I saw you and I like swords. Fighting. I mean, I enjoy watching skill. That's all."
The Princess studied him for a moment, then lowered her sword.
She turned, grabbed another blade from a bench beside her, and threw it toward him.
John caught it instinctively.
Princess:
"Then show me your skill."
He stiffened.
John:
"No. I don't wish to."
Her gaze hardened.
Princess:
"You dare refuse me?"
She raised her sword again.
Princess:
"I could have you hanged within seconds. Fight."
John sighed.
Princess:
"You have this level of skill, yet you work in garden service. Why?"
She lowered herself to his level, her voice calm—but dangerous.
John:
"I fight well, but I don't want great things."
Princess:
"Great things?"
John:
"Being a soldier… a warrior… it's not for me. I prefer a quiet, peaceful life."
Her eyes narrowed.
Princess:
"Peaceful?"
She rose.
Princess:
"Then why learn the sword? Do you think I'm a fool?"
John hesitated.
John:
"My father was a swordsman. I learned from him. After his death, I stopped. Now I want peace."
Princess:
"How did he die?"
John:
"A ground monster."
She stopped walking.
Princess:
"Monsters."
She turned slightly, her voice steady but heavy.
Princess:
"Monsters are everywhere. After the god was cursed, the world filled with them. Villages destroyed. Lives ruined."
She looked back at him.
Princess:
"Hiding is not a way to live."
A pause.
Princess:
"Getting back Monesa's body is the only path left. If we succeed, this world might finally breathe again."
She resumed walking toward the palace.
John:
"You talk as if peace is something that can still be fixed."
She didn't stop.
Princess:
"It has to be."
The palace doors loomed ahead.
Princess:
"Get ready by morning."
John:
"But I never said yes!"
She glanced back, her expression unreadable.
Princess:
"I wasn't asking."
Her voice dropped—final.
Princess:
"Be grateful. You were given a purpose."
The doors closed behind her.
Morning mist clung to the road as carriages stood ready outside the palace gates. Horses stamped the ground impatiently. Armed soldiers waited in formation, alert.
The Princess sat inside the lead carriage, posture straight, eyes forward.
Someone was missing.
Footsteps approached, loud and amused.
Marco:
"We got him, Princess. Found him hiding."
He laughed.
Marco:
"Should we hang him for that?"
Several soldiers dragged John forward, his hands bound. Dirt stained his clothes. He looked more annoyed than afraid.
The Princess's gaze landed on him
.....END OF CHAPTER 2…