A weight seemed to settle in the air the moment the figure approached the throne. Sekire felt the ground beneath her feet give way, as if she were sinking into an ocean. A strange power emanated from the girl before her, suffocating any urge to lift her gaze.
Feitan, on the other hand, remained unbothered by the presence before them. He stood composed, bowing with polite formality.
"Rise."
The voice was surprisingly soft, naturally authoritative, yet carried the tone of a child.
Despite the pressure weighing down her body, Sekire managed to stand after the command, her eyes slowly lifting toward the throne to see whom she assumed to be the queen.
Seated on the throne was a girl seemingly three years older than Sekire. She radiated such immense arrogance it felt as though she could shift entire kingdoms with a thought. Her attire was peculiar—an elegant fusion of royalty and eccentricity. A deep blue cloak, as dark as a moonless night sky, draped in silky cascades around her. Silver embroidery formed constellations that snaked across the fabric. Beneath the cloak, a tight, glossy black dress appeared to absorb the light itself. Her silver hair flowed like strands of moonlight, and her vivid pink eyes shimmered as though they'd stolen a star's glow. Dangling earrings chimed softly with her movements, and a band tied around her left arm added to her already commanding presence.
"Fei Fei!" the girl exclaimed, momentarily ignoring Sekire altogether. "Finally! I thought you'd died on the way or turned into an ice sculpture."
Feitan rose calmly, bowing once more, his tone composed and indifferent.
"The journey was long, but I'm still in one piece."
His voice held a calm, nearly disinterested cadence, as if the princess's dramatics were part of a routine.
Sekire stared at the girl, bewildered. How could someone so young hold the title of queen?
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty," Sekire said, giving a clumsy curtsy. "I… I didn't expect the queen to be so…"
The girl burst into laughter, cutting Sekire off mid-sentence. Feitan folded his arms, watching the scene unfold as if he had foreseen the entire mess.
"Queen? Me?" the girl threw herself into the throne like it was a comfy sofa, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her palm. "No, dear, I'm way more fun than that. And honestly, 'queen' sounds so old-fashioned. Just call me Mabel. I'm the princess of Axoland."
Sekire blinked in confusion. This child was a princess? And apparently superior to Feitan?
"You're telling me that she…?" Sekire pointed toward Mabel, still stunned.
Mabel laughed again, extending her arm as if to pat Sekire's shoulder from afar.
"Someone here doesn't know how to hide their shock," she said, approaching Sekire with light, carefree steps. "I know, I know—I'm impressive. Twelve years old and already moving the chess pieces of entire kingdoms. I'd say I'm in my prime! And don't underestimate me just because I'm not as tall as Fei Fei here."
She winked at Feitan, ignoring the cold look he threw her way.
Feitan sighed.
"Fei Fei?" Sekire looked even more shocked, hearing someone so stern addressed with such a nickname.
"Yes! It's my special nickname for him," Mabel said, laughing as though it were the funniest thing in the world. "Did you know he gets even more serious when I call him that? It's like he bears the burden of being the world's biggest killjoy. Relax, Fei Fei, the world won't end over a cute nickname."
Feitan sighed deeper, choosing not to respond.
"Mabel, we have more urgent matters to discuss."
The princess's smile widened.
"Of course, of course. But first—girl, welcome to Axoland. I'm Mabel Abyciss. Acting ruler, unwanted prodigy, and, according to some, an 'existential threat in the shape of a child.' Anyway, before we get into this one," she gestured at Sekire, "I need you to report your mission, Feitan."
Feitan's demeanor shifted the moment he began talking about Kitsumi. Ironically, Mabel adopted the serious posture of a true monarch almost instantly.
"The situation in Kitsumi is worse than we anticipated. The capital is lavish and decadent, a symbol of gluttony, while the rest of the kingdom crumbles beneath famine and despair. The people suffer, but the nobles play their games as always. It's as if they're running a twisted survival test, and most have already lost."
Mabel's starry pink eyes showed restrained indignation, and the air around her grew heavy. At last, she appeared as a true sovereign.
"This is a nightmare," she said calmly, though her voice trembled with quiet fury. "People are dying and no one cares? The elites fatten their purses while the people drown? My parents might be pulling strings behind the scenes, but this… this is unacceptable."
"I found Sekire in the midst of that misery," Feitan continued. "Her village was likely attacked by a general or a magical creature. She's only six, so it's hard to say for sure. But she survived hunger, torture, even extreme cold. She has potential and could be a valuable piece. That's why I brought her."
"Sekire, right?" Mabel turned her gaze to the girl, eyes analyzing her like a puzzle yet unsolved. "Let's see… Well, tell me why I should care about you."
Sekire felt the weight of the question crush her chest. She looked to Feitan, but he offered no guidance.
"I… I'm nothing more than a survivor," she said, voice trembling beneath the pressure. "Feitan brought me… I don't know what I'm supposed to do here."
Mabel leaned forward in her throne, her eyes piercing through every layer of Sekire's soul.
"Oh, a survivor? Am I supposed to pity you? How pathetic. You think you'll be spared just because you got lucky in Kitsumi?"
She rose and walked slowly toward Sekire, each step like a hammer blow. The pressure increased, forcing Sekire to buckle, but Mabel caught her face, holding her upright.
"You're here because Feitan thought you might be useful. Useful to whom, exactly? Me? Axoland? Or are you just another ghost hiding in the shadows?"
"I'm not going to be gentle. There's no room for kindness in Axoland," Mabel said, her gaze as sharp as a blade.
"What do you want?"
Her voice echoed. Silence filled the room.
Sekire looked at Feitan once more, but he remained impassive. So she closed her eyes, searching her mind and finding peace in her own subconscious. From there, she gathered strength to respond.
"I… I want to live."
Her voice broke as tears spilled from her eyes, her body trembling under the weight Mabel imposed.
Upon hearing those words, Mabel's expression lit up with a gleeful smile. She had been waiting for that answer—not just testing Sekire's endurance, but her spirit. And when it finally emerged, Mabel couldn't help but smile with both satisfaction and genuine empathy.
Sekire was still weeping, struggling to compose herself—and failing.
"Haha! You're something else!" Mabel laughed, releasing the pressure instantly. "You know, I really like you. Thought you'd crumble, but you… you really want to live, don't you? That's the kind of person I like! Not sure if you're skilled or have a grand plan, but you've got willpower—and you're even younger than me."
"I was testing you, Sekire. A test of will. Just wanted to see how far you'd go. And you passed," Mabel said with a wide grin. "Congrats. You've got what it takes to survive—at least here. The rest… well, that's up to you."
"So here's what's going to happen. I won't kill you or toss you in some dungeon. I, Mabel Abyciss, Princess of Axoland, decree that you will live. I'm sending you to the Netherheart family. They're diplomats and warriors. One of them, Lizbeth, is like a venomous butterfly—elegant but deadly. They'll teach you how to play the game. I'm not saying you'll become a great warrior, but who knows? With their help and your will, maybe you'll reach somewhere higher. They're a warm bunch, too. They'll give you the freedom to become whatever you want."
Sekire was still dazed, unsure if she was being manipulated or if there was something deeper behind Mabel's sudden change in tone. Mabel noticed her confusion and let out a soft chuckle, flopping back onto the throne with a mischievous smile.
"Oh, and before I forget, Sekire—let me tell you something about the future, in case you ever want real power," she said, pausing dramatically as Sekire's eyes fixed on her. "In Axoland, there's a special group—the Rokusei. The nine division leaders of our kingdom. If you really have what it takes, maybe you'll steal one of their seats someday."
Mabel giggled, letting the mystery linger.
"The names? Well, there's the Lord of Moonlight: Atlas. The Warrior of Dawn: Kallavan—you've met him. The infamous God of Destruction: Feitan. The wise and most powerful: Mark O'Malley. Musclehead supreme: Makro. The Bloody Calm: Nuvem. The strategist: Ehara. The newcomer: Kirizo. And, of course, one of the most respected: Beto. They're all powerful. But if you work hard, learn, maybe… just maybe… you'll stand beside them someday. I'm not saying it'll be easy. But if you don't try, you'll never know."
Mabel stood once more, smile still on her lips.
"So that's that. You'll go to the Netherhearts, you'll learn, you'll grow. And maybe one day, you'll be a true player in Axoland. If you're lucky… maybe even a Rokusei."
She winked at Sekire. "Now go out there and show me what you've got."
Feitan, who had been silent all along, simply observed with his calculating eyes. He knew Mabel was making a gamble on Sekire—and, somehow, he believed she'd succeed. She wasn't the type to break easily. Mabel looked at Feitan, and he gave a subtle thumbs up, as if to say: "Let's see what she's made of."
"Welcome to my game, Sekire. Let's see how you play your cards." Mabel smiled once more, reclining back into her throne, and said no more.
"Thank you... for everything."
She looked at him with gratitude, the words slipping out almost like a sigh.
Feitan merely gave a half-smile—something rare for him—before taking a step back. His eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke, his tone impersonal and disinterested.
"I just found you useful. Don't expect anything more than that."
He concluded, then turned and walked toward the door. Without another word, he left the room, leaving Sekire alone with Mabel, who watched the scene with an amused smile, though clearly satisfied with how things were unfolding.
"Now, let's do the following, Sekire," Mabel said as she rose from the throne. "Since you'll be staying here for a while, I'll arrange a room for you. Nothing luxurious, but at least you won't have to worry about being tossed onto the streets. I'll assign a maid to look after you, and then I'll speak with Clemearl, the head of the Netherheart family, about your stay and your training as a servant. It'll be a bit intense, but who knows—you might surprise yourself."
Hours later, Sekire was in her new room, reflecting on the past few days of her life. She had survived, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead made her feel anxious and uneasy. Could her life get better? Or worse?
She took a bath, the warmth of the water mingling with the sense of relief that could only come after enduring something so overwhelming. As she dried herself off and got ready for bed, a strange feeling crept over her. She was at peace, yet something inside her still felt unfinished. Something from her past—something she needed to uncover.
Finally, Sekire lay down on the bed Mabel had assigned to her. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes wandering across the unfamiliar room. All she knew was that, for now, peace was something she had never experienced before. And yet, a quiet longing to understand more about who she truly was began to take shape in her mind.
As sleep overtook her, her thoughts began to blur. She needed to learn more about her past. What had happened to her before all this? Who was she, really? But for now, she didn't want to get lost in those thoughts. Just for a moment, she wanted to enjoy the fleeting peace she had been granted.
And so, lying in bed, Sekire couldn't hold back the feeling of happiness that welled up inside her. She had a chance to live—something she never imagined she'd be given again. She let the tears fall silently down her cheeks, but this time, they were tears of joy.
"I can live..." she whispered to herself, as sleep embraced her—and the image of a six-year-old girl lying in bed, crying tears of happiness for the chance to start again, lingered gently in the dark.