READING GUIDANCE
" This is a direct sentence in the present time."
" This is a direct sentence in the past time."
' This is a character's inner thought in the present time.'
' This is a character's inner thought in the past time.'
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the present time.]
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the past time.]
HAPPY READING!
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"Greeting to the Soul of the Holy Dragons, Emperor Salem Isaac Malum," said the nobleman in the grand hall of the Dragon Palace. Dressed in elaborately tailored garments, he then bowed toward the second prince and the first princess, who were also present.
"Greeting to the Dragon's Blessing, the Second Prince and the First Princess," he added, though he felt an urge to meet the well-known crown prince—whose seat beside the Emperor remained empty.
Despite how calm he appeared, he felt conflicted upon noticing the absence of the one he truly needed, knowing that the crown prince handled most international affairs.
Even someone like him—who had spent half his life in the military and had served the imperial family since his youth—still struggled to compose himself in the presence of this infamous tyrant family.
How should he describe it? What word was suitable enough for this feeling?
Is it "mysterious"?
No... not only that.
Or maybe "intimidating"?
Yes, of course. But the feeling was greater than that.
Maybe... "terror"?
Yes. It was terror.
Terror from the beautiful beings before him. Their elegance and charismatic beauty carried something dreadful. The way they looked at others sent an unpleasant chill through his body. It felt as if they could seduce and poison someone at the same time. Even those who had served the imperial family for years still found it difficult to remain composed before them. If the crown prince had been present as well, he doubted he would have been able to stand for long.
"So, what do you want?" asked the Emperor in his deep voice.
The man, the International Minister of the empire, bowed. "It is regarding international trade, Your Majesty. We have discovered that the Jahar Empire has broken our agreement and cut off our trade route to the eastern region."
The Emperor merely smirked darkly without saying a word.
The one who spoke next was the lady with the graceful appearance.
"It seems they truly do not know when to stop, do they?" she said lightly. "Their king's head should be sliced slowly, perhaps."
The minister could not help but cough. Every time one of them spoke, it felt like death creeping around his lungs.
"...The report also states that our people—and those who cooperate with us—are being blocked and banned from entering the eastern region. It appears they are declaring war, Your Majesty."
"War?!" shouted the second prince. "Are you saying war?! Father, if they want it, then give them what they want!"
"Your Grace, Second Prince... they have formed an alliance with other eastern countries. So please consider—"
The twelve-year-old prince shot him a deadly glare. "So you are saying our empire is weak?"
"How could I say that? What I mean is—"
"Shut up!" he screamed. "I will rip your mouth off."
Though everyone understood that the old minister was simply trying to speak reasonably, the second prince was too wicked to tolerate opposing opinions. In truth, all members of the imperial family were wicked, and the court had grown used to it. Yet the atmosphere always became chaotic when the crown prince was absent from his seat.
The Emperor did not seem inclined to restrain his enraged son, who had leapt from his seat over a minor disagreement. Meanwhile, the first princess watched the scene unfold with a beautiful smile, as if enjoying the chaos. Knights hurried forward, attempting to protect the old minister from the furious young prince.
"What madness."
A gentle voice echoed as the grand doors of the throne hall opened.
A dignified and charismatic woman in an elegant gown stepped inside, and silence fell instantly upon the hall. The black-haired woman, known as the Cursed One, was the mysterious empress who rarely showed herself in public and almost never left her palace.
"Greetings to the Treasure of the Dragon, Her Majesty, Empress Nevaeh."
Everyone bowed except the imperial family.
"Sit down, Ash," she said, casting an icy glare at her son that made him freeze.
"...Okay, Mother."
He obeyed immediately, his previous madness vanishing in an instant, replaced by a dark expression.
"Why are you here, my Empress?" asked the Emperor as he descended from his throne to stand beside her.
"I was simply checking on my children," she replied, then turned to the International Minister. "Let us cancel today's meeting. Speak with Ray and reschedule it when the crown prince is available."
The minister bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Majesty."
The Empress departed with the Emperor, followed by the imperial children, leaving the hall in heavy silence.
Such events were nothing new. How wicked those they served were—or how twisted their relationships might be—was not their concern. Or rather, they simply wished to preserve their heads by not interfering.
The only truth they acknowledged was this: their power was real. They were all-powerful.
Whether the Emperor chose to marry a cursed woman, whether the children behaved wildly like beasts, or whether the monarchy spread terror—none dared question it. The imperials inherited the power of the Holy Dragon, and that alone justified their supremacy.
It had become normal.
The terror. The cruelty. The gruesome scenes.
They had adapted to such an environment—even to sights like maids and servants lying bloodied in front of the crown prince's chamber. Some clutched their bleeding heads; others were helped to their feet, while the rest hurried to clean the destroyed room.
Ray, the crown prince's assistant, sighed heavily as he stood before the disaster-stricken chamber.
"...I did not tell you to stop the thrice transfusion, did I?"
The butlers paled. "...Yesterday, the crown prince rejected it."
"What? Why are you say—"
"Well, perhaps you are not teaching the newcomers properly, Ray."
The Empress had arrived with the Emperor and now calmly observed the gruesome sight.
"Greeting—"
"Do not," she interrupted, walking past them into her son's ruined chamber. She sat upon the shattered bed while the Emperor stood before her.
"His power has always been overwhelming since he was a child," she said quietly.
The Emperor gently brushed her hair as she looked around the wreckage. "He will be fine. I was once like him. You need not worry."
The Empress held his hand, her expression emotionless as she closed her eyes, finding comfort in his touch.
Ray remained outside, lost in thought.
The mysterious Empress, who buried herself within her palace, only emerged when such incidents happened to her children. She was never involved in their daily lives, nor did she show visible affection toward them. It had become an open secret that the Empress hated her children. The Emperor was the only one she loved—and he loved her above all, for she was his treasure.
Thus, the palace normalized the wickedness of the imperial children, believing they inherited it from a mother equally cruel.
But those who worked within the special division quietly disagreed.
They believed—perhaps stubbornly—that there was motherly affection hidden within the Empress.
Yet she never spoke of it. Never showed it.
And so the misunderstanding deepened, silently shaping the madness within her children.
***
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She could never truly understand the power of nature. Whenever she felt exhausted or had a bad day, simply lying on the grass in the forest near her company was enough to heal her. That was why this had become her favorite place to take a small lunch break — in the quiet forest not far from the company.
It was Rosan who had shown her this tiny spot by the beautiful river. Whenever Rosan was not too busy, she would join her. But today, after spreading her picnic mat and finishing her lunchbox, she lay down alone, gazing at the sky. The gentle forest breeze carried a refreshing fragrance that always calmed her. Within seconds, her worries faded away.
'Ah... a dragon.'
Still half-asleep, she noticed a dragon flying past the forest, its massive wings creating a powerful gust that shook the trees and nearly blew her mat away.
Forty minutes later, she woke from a pleasant nap. She knew the time because of the small vibrating alarm she owned. Her curly hair was messy, and leaves were scattered across her dress. This place truly was perfect for resting. When she brought Arisha here, her little sister would play in the river with the local children while she rested.
'I should go back and finish my work,' she thought, stretching before tidying her things.
Just as she prepared to leave, a sudden burst of wind came from the pathway across the river.
'What?'
The wind felt unnatural — as if a giant fan had been swung violently in one direction.
'... Rosan said there is a lake not far from here.'
She stared at the forest path for a long moment before placing her belongings under a tree. Taking off her shoes, she held them in one hand and carefully crossed the river.
Her dress was hardly suitable for exploration, but she managed to cross safely. After putting her shoes back on, she walked slowly forward, feeling a strange sensation creeping through her.
The path stretched on endlessly, surrounded by nothing but trees. After a while, she considered turning back — this unplanned detour would make her late for work. But with every step forward, a tingling sensation tightened in her lungs, heightening her curiosity.
She could not stop.
Instinct told her something was there.
'Don't!'
She screamed in her heart as she saw someone falling from a high hill toward the lake.
Her eyes widened. She ran toward the hill and leapt into the water without hesitation.
It was midday, and the twin suns shone brightly overhead, illuminating the water clearly enough for her to see deep beneath the surface. She swam toward the darker depths and grabbed the drowning man.
'I got you!'
The moment she caught him, his eyes snapped open — brilliant golden eyes that seemed to choke the air from her lungs. She released her breath suddenly and let go of his arm, sensing a faint but dangerous aura around him.
She coughed uncontrollably as she waded back toward the shallow water, clutching her neck.
Her energy felt drained. When she looked up, she saw him emerging not far away.
Now she could see him clearly.
Platinum-grey hair clung wetly to his face. His body was tall and solid, far larger than hers. He was undeniably handsome — the very definition of beauty — as he walked toward her.
Yet something about him sent a sharp chill down her spine. His gaze alone carried intimidation and terror.
'Should I run?'
Yes. She should.
She turned and ran. She thought she had gone far enough; her breath was ragged, her legs heavy.
Suddenly, a large hand grabbed her and yanked her backward. She fell hard onto the ground. Before she could process what had happened, he was above her, gripping both her wrists tightly.
"Who are you? How dare you disturb me?" he demanded.
She could not understand a single word.
She struggled, but his grip was too strong. She could not sign. She could not free her hands.
"Aa... uh... aa..."
She tried to speak, but the broken sound only seemed to anger him further.
Her breathing became difficult.
"Speak, or I will kill you."
She shook her head desperately, trying to show she meant no harm.
Clack.
Suddenly, blood dripped onto her face — a familiar metallic scent.
She paled as she noticed blood running from his forehead.
He loosened his grip slightly, confused by her sudden change in expression. Before he could react, she pushed him back and reached up, placing both small hands against his forehead.
"Let go," he said.
She did not move.
"I said let go."
Still, she did not release him.
"If you're trembling so much, then let go!"
He grabbed her wrists, forcing her to her knees. Her hands were stained red, trembling violently.
Irritated, he wiped the blood from his forehead with his sleeve, then dragged her into the shallow river to wash the blood from her trembling hands.
In the struggle, their footing slipped against the wet stones beneath the water.
They both fell.
Water splashed around them as he landed first against the shallow riverbed, and her small body collapsed on top of him. Her palms pressed weakly against his chest, her knees sinking into the water at his sides. For a brief moment, neither of them moved.
The crown prince let out a slow breath, staring at the clear blue sky above him, the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water.
He had come here to calm the cursed blood raging inside him. Instead, this strange woman lay half on top of him, trembling uncontrollably over something as insignificant as blood.
"...Why couldn't I just kill you?" he muttered, glancing down at her shaking form.
His aura was spreading without restraint. The air around them felt heavy. Her breathing became uneven — the natural reaction of a mere human exposed to his presence.
Yet instead of pulling away, instead of noticing the suffocating pressure, she remained there, focused only on wiping the blood from his forehead with her damp handkerchief, as if nothing else mattered.
"Irisha! Where are you, Irisha?"
A woman's anxious voice echoed from the forest.
"...Are you Irisha?" he asked again.
She did not respond.
When their eyes met, she stared at his lips.
"...You can't hear, can you?"
Without thinking, he touched her lips.
She looked confused but gently held the hand that touched her mouth. Then she pointed to her lips and ears, shaking her head, trying to explain.
"Irisha! Please... where are you?"
The desperate voice came closer.
Yet she only continued to look at him directly with her dark brown eyes. It was the first time someone had faced him so openly. The only thing partially hiding her face was her wet brunette hair.
He brushed her hair behind her ear, revealing the freckles scattered across her skin. For a moment, he felt tempted to touch her again.
But the voice was approaching.
He stood abruptly and disappeared into the forest, leaving her confused and too weak to follow.
"Irisha?"
A tall woman rushed from the trees and ran to her.
[Rosan?]
"What happened to you?" Rosan asked urgently in sign. "Are you alright? Can you stand?"
Irisha gave a faint smile.
[I can't stand.]
"What happened? Why are you soaked? I told you not to go near the river — this is even farther. This is a lake!" she scolded anxiously. "Haya! I found her!"
A man hurried toward them.
"Oh no. What happened?"
[Ah, it—]
"Later. Just carry her first. I'll call a doctor," Rosan said firmly.
"Alright. Please excuse me," the man replied gently as he lifted Irisha into his arms.
They left the quiet lake behind.
High above, hidden within the trees, a pair of golden eyes watched the scene with clear displeasure.
***
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"Your Grace!" Ray called in surprise, hurrying toward the charismatic man who had just entered the Royal Palace, where the Imperial members resided. "Y–You are back!"
He always tensed when speaking to one of the most powerful figures in the Empire. But today, his heart pounded even harder. Not long ago, this very man had destroyed his own chamber in a fit of madness, injuring several servants before leaving the palace.
A very good reason for Ray's pulse to be racing now.
"...Prepare a bath for me," the Crown Prince said calmly.
Ray blinked, momentarily confused by the lack of hostility. "...Yes, Your Grace." His gaze lowered — only then noticing the prince's damp clothes.
' Why is he wet?'
"...Then, I will also prepare for your blood transfusion, Your Grace," Ray added carefully. Suggesting such a thing usually earned him a cold glare — or worse. He braced himself for an outburst.
But—
The Crown Prince merely sighed and brushed his semi-wet hair back, exposing his sharp features. "Yeah, yeah. I don't even care anymore," he muttered, walking past him.
Ray hurried after him, stunned.
"...There is also something I should inform you of, Your Grace," he said cautiously, deciding to gamble on this unfamiliar mood.
"What?"
Ray froze. "Eh?!"
"I said, what?" the prince repeated, irritation flickering in his eyes.
"Ah! The International Minister requested that I schedule a meeting for you, under the Empress's order," Ray blurted out.
The strange calm did not seem to change everything after all.
The Crown Prince paused, thinking for a moment. "...The meeting didn't go well, did it?"
It wasn't unusual. He often skipped Imperial gatherings, leaving the other royal heirs to attend in his place.
"...Schedule it," he finally said.
"Y–Yes! Yes, Your Grace!" Ray responded, though confusion still lingered on his face. This was wrong. After years of serving the Imperial family, he knew the pattern of those bearing dragon's blood — the rage, the instability, the terror that followed each surge.
It never ended this quickly.
"...Well, he did receive the other transfusion," Ray murmured under his breath.
Perhaps that was the reason.
.
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Meanwhile, the Crown Prince leaned back into the enormous bath pool, steam curling around black-and-silver dragon statues carved with extravagant detail. Above him, a glass ceiling revealed the vast night sky.
Splash.
Water was always calming. That was why he went to the lake — to contain the cursed power running through his veins.
Yet tonight, it was not the water he felt.
He ran a hand through his wet hair, water trailing down his broad shoulders and defined muscles.
She was small.
Far smaller than him.
Her wrists had been so thin, fragile enough to snap if he had tightened his grip just slightly. Deaf. Mute. Useless. A woman who should never have dared approach someone like him.
Yet he hadn't killed her.
There had been no murderous impulse when he looked at her.
It was her expression.
The way her face drained of color at the sight of his blood. The way she trembled, clearly terrified, not even fully understanding the danger she stood in — and yet still trying desperately to stop his bleeding.
"...What a stupid woman," he muttered, resting his head against the edge of the bath.
But the sensation remained.
Vivid.
Her trembling fingers against his skin.
His hand against her cheek.
Their eyes met in that suspended moment.
'It's still here,' he thought.
And with that, he sank beneath the comforting water.
***