“Lady Hari, this way.”

Achilleon’s guard appeared while she was selecting threads for the loom. Hari set down the thread tangled in her fingers and followed the guard.

They eventually arrived at the Third Prince’s office. Achilleon was seated on a long chair, with an elderly man across from him.

“I am Achilleon’s personal physician. I called you here to examine your physical condition.”

“Yes.”

The physician’s gaze deepened at her dry response. Though gaunt, the woman was as beautiful as a muse from mythology. Her large glass-like eyes and pale skin lacked vitality. After a brief examination, the physician gave his diagnosis.

“There are no major issues with the lady’s health. Though she suffers from malnutrition and mild anemia, proper nutrition and rest should restore her to her healthy state. By the way, miss, have you been taking any medication?”

“When I was in the Galate palace, I took something as instructed. Two pills daily mixed in food, sometimes three.”

“What were your symptoms before and after taking it?”

“I had headaches and slept a lot. So much that I couldn’t tell day from night, just so very, very much.”

“Who gave you the medicine?”

“My nurse did. I need to sleep to dream.”

“That’s enough. You may leave now.”

A firm voice cut through the conversation. The physician withdrew without a word, leaving just the two of them. Hari asked.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You see prophecies through dreams?”

“Was I not supposed to mention that?”

“The medicine.”

“My nurse gave it to me on my father’s orders.”

Achilleon crossed his legs casually. He tossed a box of tobacco leaves onto the side table and stared at the woman. He understood the general situation. The greedy King of Galate had used sleeping pills to force the woman to sleep to exploit her abilities. Did she knowingly allow herself to be used?

“How did you live in Galate?”

Achilleon leaned back against the chair with tobacco leaves in his mouth. The position fully revealed his leopard-like muscular body.

“I lived in the palace until I was twelve, then lived in a tower with just my nurse.”

“And there.”

“I ate, or slept. That’s all.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“I can play the lyre a little.”

She didn’t mention that she could identify herbs. There was no need to prove her usefulness. Hari needed to be discarded by this man. Preferably in a non-violent and humane way. Though that method might be far from gentle. If necessary, she would have to escape this prison even if it meant killing him.

“Have I picked up pretty garbage?”

Achilleon chuckled and reached out to grasp her golden hair.

After dismissing the woman who seemed unlikely to serve any purpose, he called in the physician. As expected, the physician revealed the truth he couldn’t tell in front of the patient.

“To be frank, the lady’s condition is so poor that anything could happen to her at any moment. If we had been any later, it could have been disastrous.”

“This makes bringing her here meaningless.”

“I apologize, Your Highness.”

Clicking his tongue again softly, Achilleon left his office. He thought she had gone, but that unsightly woman was standing still like a doll in front of the door.

He ignored her bloodless face gazing up at him and turned his steps in the opposite direction.

A sickly woman who could die any day. What benefit could there be in picking up broken, useless junk?

The sound of footsteps on the cold marble floor echoed rhythmically. By the time he reached the end of the corridor, his judgment leaned toward disposing of her before her true identity became known and caused more trouble than now. The snake-like Antor would surely set his sights on a prophetess.

The woman’s gaunt face floated across the sunlight streaming between the corridor pillars. Death might be a gift for a woman with absolutely no will to live.

Achilleon finally reached his conclusion.

Dispose of her.

Just as he placed his hand on the sword handle.

“Lord Achilleon.”

A small but clear voice rang out right behind him. The voice that seeped calmly through the drowsy afternoon air made Achilleon turn around. It was Margharita.

“The physician said I have excellent recovery abilities. Though most people would be completely broken from long-term use of sleeping pills, I’m surprisingly healthy and should recover quickly.”

How very likely. Whether aware of the sardonic mockery or not, Hari remained composed even when facing Achilleon’s coldly frozen expression. Her eyes slid up along the gleaming blade before fixing back on Achilleon. Only then did he realize the meaning of this sudden situation.

“I can be of help.”

The corners of her mouth trembled as though she were suppressing fear. Achilleon smiled as he removed his hand from the sword hilt, likely amplifying that fear.

“You have good instincts.”

The woman who instinctively sensed her death remained silent.

Achilleon decided to postpone the disposal. With the same hand that was about to behead her, he instead gently pressed on her shoulder.

“Your help better be more than just words, princess.”

* * *

It was early summer when humidity was rising. On her way back to her quarters, Hari briefly stopped and sat on the sun-warmed fountain. Dipping her hands in the water and basking in the sunlight gradually eased her tension.

“…”

Life in the tower had been hell. The medicine packets in her nurse’s hands, the sleeping drug-laced food she ate daily feeling like poison. Her nurse, who wiped away tears while watching the unconscious Hari lying hunched over, was powerless. As long as the king’s orders shackled Hari like chains, no one could help her. No one could break her out of that hell. That’s why the current situation felt like a dream.

‘…This feels nice.’

Hari took a breath while feeling the soft grass between her toes.

‘If only this wasn’t here.’

Clink. She shook the shackle on her ankle. The reality that reminded her that this moment of peace was an illusion was heavy and solid. Achilleon would mercilessly behead her the day her usefulness ended.

‘Survive.’

So she had to live, as her grandmother had urged.

Hari gripped the shackle on her ankle. The cold mark of ownership dug into her skin. A sharp voice came just as the shackle she had pulled at several times left a wound on her ankle.

“Hey, what are you doing there?”

The woman with dry black hair and amber eyes introduced herself as Ipea from Kitium.

“I was brought to Hitais two months ago. My father was a merchant who traded amphoras and silk shoes.”

Unfocused eyes somewhere, a muffled voice. The shabby woman with dry, raised skin and short hair cut below her ears seemed to show Hari’s future.

“So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’? I can tell you’re a slave, and if you keep spacing out like that, you’re bound to get beaten.”

Ipea approached lazily and looked Hari up and down.

A face glowing white in the sunlight, red eyes moist like fresh fruit. This wasn’t the beauty of a cheap pr*stitute from the entertainment district.

“I haven’t seen you before.”

There were rumors that Third Prince Achilleon had brought a woman from Galate. Though Ipea wasn’t interested, she learned about it anyway because the palace was in such an uproar over it.

“Did you know? The Hitais royal family inherited the blood of beasts. Those disgusting ones, do you know how many people they’ve killed… Why don’t the gods strike down these barbarians who only know war with lightning?”

Ipea plopped down and started scratching at her shackled ankle. Seeing the small insects popping out from under her clothes, Hari slowly backed away.

“Look! My father earned 6,000 dracas a year, and our family lived abundantly without ever missing a meal. But rather than live miserably as a slave in a place like this because of war, I tried to die. I climbed over the wall prepared to die and be buried in my homeland. Though I was caught right away.”

“You tried to escape? How?”

“You can do anything if you have the will.”

Ipea seemed pleased that Hari showed interest.

“But there won’t be any chances for a while. Because we were caught, security within the palace has doubled. The men who escaped with me were beaten until they passed out. Those who became disabled were resold cheaply at the slave market. If you don’t want to end up like that, it’s better to lay low for now. Hey, what’s your name?”

“Hari.”

“So you’re that woman the Third Prince brought.”

Now Ipea was scratching her entire body until her skin turned red.

“Don’t look at me like that. Do you know how itchy it is when the wounds from beatings heal? These bugs are unavoidable because I work in the fields. It’s not like this.”

It wasn’t just Ipea. During her time moving around the palace, Hari could clearly see the reality of foreign slaves. It was hard to expect human treatment. Faces wrinkled from long exposure to the sun, bent backs and bony limbs showed the hardship of their labor.

“A pretty slave like you can live comfortably under a kurios (master). Especially if it’s a prince. Still, be careful not to get caught by Lady Selina.”