As the guards escorted Nikita toward the towering spire, she walked with her head held high. She had no idea that behind her, a storm was raging inside the man who watched her go.
The king stood perfectly still, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure. Nikita's impossibly long hair dragged across the palace's stone floor like living serpents, whispering against the cold surface. As those black, silken waves rippled along the ground, something inside the king's chest suddenly tightened.
In all his long, merciless life, he had never felt anything like this.
An Unexplainable Pull: It felt as though Nikita's hair was not merely hair, but invisible threads threads that kept pulling him toward her again and again.
Fragments of Memory: The faint scent of her hair reached his senses, and suddenly it felt familiar. As if long ago outside this illusionary world he had known her… or someone like her. Perhaps he, too, once had another life he had forgotten.
Conflict and Temptation: He wanted to run after her, to grab her hand but his royal pride chained him in place. His eyes shimmered for a brief moment before he forced himself back into cold composure.
The king pressed a hand to the left side of his chest. For reasons he could not explain, he felt that this girl was not merely his prisoner she was the only truth inside his dull, false kingdom.
When Nikita disappeared around the corner of the corridor, the king whispered to himself, barely audible,
"Who are you, Nikita? Why does my heart turned to stone tremble like this when I see you? Are your flowing locks binding my fate to yours?"
No one witnessed that fleeting weakness but the air of the entire palace subtly changed.
At the very top of the tower, Nikita was placed inside a silent chamber. She did not feel fear even for a moment. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, bathing the room in silver. Exhausted from the day's chaos the chase, the arguments, the insults her eyelids grew heavy.
She lay down on the soft bed in the corner. Her long hair spilled over the edge, pooling onto the floor like a black silken veil. Within minutes, Nikita fell into a deep sleep.
But this was no ordinary sleep.
Dream or Reality: In her dreams, she found herself back in the old library yet every book cover now bore the king's face.
A Silent Visitor: While Nikita slept, a shadow appeared outside the tower door. The king himself alone, without guards.
A Strange Enchantment: He entered quietly and stood beside the bed. Looking at Nikita's peaceful sleeping face, the iron hardness within him melted like wax. A strand of her long hair had fallen across her cheek.
Carefully so carefully that her sleep would not break the king reached out and touched her hair.
At that exact moment, a faint surge of warmth rushed through his fingers, like a soft current of electricity. Nikita stirred slightly and murmured something indistinct.
In the moonlight, her hair seemed to come alive, shimmering with a faint silver glow. The king stared in disbelief as an old scar on his hand—one that had never healed learnfullyslowly faded away under her touch.
Whispering, he said,
"Are you merely a character in a story… or an angel sent to free me from this false world?"
Still deeply asleep, Nikita sensed someone nearby. Unconsciously, she reached out and firmly grabbed the king's hand.
He froze.
He tried to pull away, but her fingers tightened their grip. In her sleep, she began to murmur in a broken, almost tearful voice.
The king leaned closer, his face near her lips to hear her words.
"Don't go… This story is incomplete without you. They may have forgotten you but I know you aren't false…"
Her words crushed his chest.
He didn't know whether she was dreaming of someone from her past or speaking directly to him. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and fell onto his hand.
At that moment, the king's pride, ego, and royal arrogance collapsed into dust.
Instead of pulling his hand away, he sat beside her on the bed.
Her touch brought him a strange, forgotten peace.
In a low voice, he said,
"I don't know who you are… but your touch reminds me that I once knew how to smile. I am no longer alone in this stone palace."
Nikita pulled his hand closer, pressing it against her cheek.
The king remained motionless.
Outside, the world lay silent under moonlight but inside the tower room, a new story was quietly beginning. One where a defiant king was unknowingly surrendering to his captive.
Morning light streamed through the window and fell upon Nikita's eyes. She stretched and opened them only to feel unexpected weight in her right hand.
When she looked closer, her soul nearly leapt out of her body.
She was holding the king's hand against her cheek.
And the king exhausted had fallen asleep sitting beside the bed, his head bowed.
For a moment, Nikita froze.
Then her fiery personality snapped back instantly.
She flung his hand away.
The king jolted awake, blinking in confusion. Before he could speak, Nikita sat up, hands on her waist, launching into her familiar, sharp-tongued tirade.
"Oh wow! So you're a professional opportunist now? Sneaking into my room while I sleep? Does your massive empire not have a single place left for you to rest—or did sitting on my sofa inspire you to upgrade to my bed?"
Startled, the king said,
"Nikita, you misunderstand. I only came to check
She cut him off with a dismissive wave.
"Stop. No excuses. You were probably playing with my long hair, weren't you? I know your type thinking about turning it into some royal rope. Aren't you ashamed? Last night you threatened me with a sword, and now you're sitting here acting sentimental?"
The king wanted to get angry but couldn't.
"I guarded you all night," he said quietly, "so no harm would come to you."
Nikita smirked.
"Guarded me? Or held my hand praying your fate would change? Please, Your Majesty this whole 'watching over you' act is straight out of some outdated movie. Don't try to impress me. That works in your book not on me. Now leave. I need to freshen up. And close the door properly your guards don't inspire confidence."
The king rubbed his forehead, muttering,
"Why did I ever grab this girl's hand? She's danger disguised as a human."
As he left, Nikita shouted after him,
"And next time, bring a decent breakfast! Don't show up empty-handed!"
He stopped at the door.
Slowly, he turned around.
Instead of anger, he simply looked at her.
The room fell completely silent.
Their eyes met.
In Nikita's eyes: irritation and sarcasm faded as she noticed the deep loneliness and ancient sorrow hidden beneath his calm gaze. Her sharp insults dissolved under his stare.
In the king's eyes: there was no anger only intense curiosity, as if he had found a long-lost treasure.
Nikita instinctively pulled her long hair across her chest. She wanted to look awaybut his gaze held her like a magnet.
For nearly a minute, neither spoke.
Finally, the king said in a low, heavy voice,
"You try very hard to look fearless, Nikitabut your eyes betray you. You're afraid I might read the truth buried in your heart."
He turned and left.
Nikita remained frozen on the bed, her heart racing.
"Crazy man!" she muttered. "Why does my heartbeat feel like this?"
Drawn by unease, she went to the window and watched him walking in the palace courtyard below.
In the harsh morning light, she noticed something new.
The Scar: A long scar ran down the right side of his face, faint but unmistakable giving him a dangerous, haunting beauty.
Cat-like Eyes: In sunlight, his eyes revealed themselves sharp, feline, with hues of green and amber. Eyes that could see through darkness.
Her breath caught.
"Why would someone so beautiful carry such scars?" she whispered. "Is he even fully human?"
The king suddenly stopped.
Without lifting his head, he glanced upward.
Those cat-like eyes locked onto her.
Nikita staggered back, heart pounding.
A childhood memory surfaced her grandfather's voice telling ancient legends of guardians who lived between worlds, whose eyes were sharp as beasts', who recognized souls by scent.
Had the story been real?
Her hands trembled.
"This isn't just a book," she whispered. "This is a forgotten chapter of my own life."
Still shaken, she sat in the quiet tower room, absentmindedly stroking her long sky-blue hair.
Suddenly
Warmth.
She looked down in shock.
Her hair was glowing radiant, alive with soft light, brighter than ever before. Each strand shimmered as if filled with ancient energy.
The more she thought of the king, the brighter it became.
She rushed to the window, holding her hair up to the sunlight.
"These aren't just hair…" she murmured. "They're a source of power."
Her childhood memory returned the forest, the glowing eyes, the light in her hair.
A sharp knock echoed at the door.
Her hair flared brighter.
She steadied her breathing and the glow faded.
In the mirror, she froze.
Her eyes were no longer dark.
They were the same clear sky-blue as her hair.
"Am I becoming part of this story?" she whispered.
From outside the door, the king's voice came low and certain:
"Nikita, open the door. I know the secret of your azure magic."
She gathered her glowing hair and stepped forward.
Opening the door, she scowled.
"Oh really? One nap and my eye color changes what a budget-friendly magic system. Are you a fortune-teller, or did you install cameras in my room?"
The king only smiled faintly.
"This form suits you," he said. "But anger won't uncover the truth. Come with me."
He took her hand.
She tried to pull away but her hair glowed again.
An invisible pull drew her after him.
He led her to a secluded garden behind the palace where an ancient tree towered toward the sky. With a light leap, he sat on a thick branch and extended his hand.
"Sit here," he said. "From this height, the world will no longer feel false."
Reluctantly curiously she joined him.
Turning her face away, ears burning, she felt him gently lift a strand of her azure hair, studying it closely.
Watching him from the corner of her eye,