The king looked quite pleased.

“I thought even a princess from such a small country would behave haughtily, but she’s quite decent.”

“I’m glad she meets with your approval.”

Malyn lowered her eyelashes, the unpleasant taste still lingering in her mouth, unsettling her.

Turning her head slightly, she noticed the table with a beautifully inlaid vase on it. She had an overwhelming urge to pull out the pile of white flowers inside and use the water to wash away the foul, fishy taste that lingered in her mouth.

But if she showed herself like that in front of the man, she knew that he would wash his hands with her blood before she even had a chance to rinse her mouth.

Malyn thought of her heritage. Her mother had been accused of being a witch and burned at the stake, condemned for allegedly seducing the village men and behaving promiscuously.

‘If I’m going to die anyway, should I die now?’

The thought crossed her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside. Even in more disgusting situations than this, she had never really wanted to die. Thoughts like ‘Should I die?’ or ‘I want to die?’ were always there, lingering like a stubborn ghost at the back of her mind, but they were nothing more than fleeting echoes.

She felt a bit resentful toward her mother.

‘If you’re going to be falsely accused of being a witch and sentenced to death, why don’t you teach me some real magic?’

She didn’t want anything grand like overthrowing the kingdom or killing anyone. All she needed was a simple spell – a little magic that would help her get through the humiliating situations she faced every day, like putting the man in front of her to sleep.

“What are you thinking about standing in front of me?”

Malyn lifted her head quickly. The man had noticed her wandering thoughts.

The king of the powerful nation of Veldam, who always looked down on others. Even now, from morning until night, and even while he slept, he wore that beautiful golden mask, watching her without mercy.

Through the eyeholes of the mask, all Malyn could see was darkness, yet she could clearly feel his gaze, heavy with disdain, pressing down on her.

In the next moment, she was stunned.

Before entering the room, the head maid had given her a strict instruction: never look directly at the king’s face, even if he was wearing the mask. Malyn quickly lowered her gaze.

Her eyes fell on the lower half of the king.

Unlike his dignified upper garments, the lower half of his body was completely bare. He was seated in a lavish chair, and there was no need to describe what was at its center—it was obvious. The slightly damp, limp part of him stood in absurd contrast to the opulent chair. Yet, the most ridiculous thing was her own situation. Bowing her head, Malyn spoke softly.

“Your Majesty’s chamber is so beautiful that it momentarily distracted me.”

“What is so beautiful about it?”

“…The vase…”

Malyn replied quickly. The king turned his head slightly toward the vase, tilting it as if examining it closely.

“It doesn’t seem all that beautiful to me.”

“The gold trim gives it a wealthy, beautiful look.”

“Is that so?”

The king let out a soft laugh and pulled a bell cord. The door opened, and handmaidens, who had been waiting outside, entered without a hint of surprise. They draped a beautifully embroidered blanket over the king’s bare lower half. The king then gestured to one of the maids and spoke.

“Give that vase to the princess.”

“…Your Majesty.”

Malyn replied hesitantly, her voice betraying her unease. She could clearly see the king smiling beneath his mask.

“It’s my reward for pleasing me. Take it.”

She almost laughed. The man who hadn’t kept a single promise to her until she’d entered the chamber was suddenly being generous. It seemed that men were all the same – whether street thugs or kings, there was little real difference between them.

“I thought you were a princess, but it seems a streetwalker has entered my chambers.”

His tone was tinged with laughter. Despite the insult, he seemed to be in a good mood. He was still a king, after all. He might have said it casually, but he had already figured out her origin. Malyn thought as much and bowed her head even lower.

“Shall I tend to your bed?”

One of the maids asked quietly, standing beside them. In an instant, the king shoved her head away with surprising force. The sudden aggression sent the maid stumbling backward, making Malyn flinch.

“Even after I said I was pleased, you still don’t understand what I mean.”

The king snapped in irritation. But the maid rose quickly and bowed as if nothing had happened.

“I have committed an unforgivable sin.”

“Leave.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The maids backed away quickly. Malyn wondered if she should leave as well, but it seemed the king had no intention of letting her go.

“Again.”

“…”

“If you do better, I’ll give you something even finer.”

It seemed rinsing her mouth would have to wait.

Malyn rose slightly, bowing politely before approaching the king. She knelt between his legs, gently moving the blanket aside, exposing his bare lower half once more. As she lowered her head, the jewels in her hair clinked loudly, colliding roughly. Here she was, adorned with jewels, yet tending to the king in this way.

For the daughter of a supposed witch, she was certainly living a life of luxury.

* * *

On the morning of the day Malyn’s mother was burned at the stake, she coughed up three mouthfuls of blood.

Her mother lived by gathering herbs in the forest and selling them to the general store. Because of her beautiful appearance, she deliberately smeared mud on her face every morning before going into the forest. When Malyn turned ten, her mother began to apply mud to her face as well. But these measures did not protect her.

Countless men came and go from the house at the edge of the forest where the mother and daughter lived. The door never opened by itself, but it had been forced open many times. It was a natural progression that the name they called Malyn’s mother changed from wh*re to witch. At least that was how it seemed to the villagers.

It was a small country, hardly worthy of being called a kingdom. When the village leader locked her mother in the pit, thirteen-year-old Malyn ran to the town for help, but no one was willing to help her. On the journey from the village to the town and back, Malyn endured some of the most disgusting things a thirteen-year-old could experience. But she returned to the pit because she still wanted to save her mother.

Thomas, the lazy guard of the pit, said to Malyn.

“If you let me touch your br*ast once, I’ll let you say goodbye to your mother.”

Covered in dirt and completely exhausted after two days without sleep, Malyn looked at Thomas with fierce eyes and pulled open her shirt. Thomas, whose eyes wandered greedily over her still undeveloped br*ast, said “Not now, later” and opened the door to the pit for her. Malyn, without even bothering to fasten her clothes properly, stumbled into the pit and almost fell in.

Her mother, who had been lying in the pit for days without a drop of water, opened her mouth again as soon as she swallowed the water Malyn had given her.

“Run away…”

It was absurd. Where could she possibly run? A thirteen-year-old girl, penniless and alone, had no real chance of escape—the outcome was clear. But then Malyn remembered the look in Thomas’s eyes and quickly changed her mind. Staying in this village alone, as a thirteen-year-old girl, would ultimately lead to the same fate anyway.

Malyn’s mother, barely able to sit up against the pit wall, looked down at her daughter kneeling quietly beside her, glancing around. She reached out, wanting to gently stroke Malyn’s head, but instead, a violent fit of coughing overtook her, bringing up a mouthful of blood.

“Mom!”

Panicking, Malyn quickly wiped her mother’s mouth with her old, dirty apron. Her mother coughed again, spitting more blood onto the apron a few more times. Dark stains spread across the fabric as her mother nearly collapsed into Malyn’s arms. Tears filled Malyn’s eyes as she looked down at her, but the same words escaped her mother’s lips once more.

“Run away…”

“Run away, Malyn…”

“How can I run away when you’re like this, Mom?”

It was a half-truth and half-lie. Malyn already knew her mother had no chance of survival.

At least I can save myself—my own body.

Thoughts like these filled Malyn’s mind.

But how could she protect herself?

As if reading Malyn’s thoughts, her mother looked up at her and spoke.

“My blood will protect you…”

It was an incredible claim. How could blood protect anyone? But at that moment, her mother’s eyes were alive, burning with fierce determination – as if she would not let her daughter die, no matter what the cost.

For the first time, Malyn wondered if the villagers’ whispers were true.

Maybe her mother really was a witch.

For the first time, her mother—who had been with her for as long as she could remember—felt like a stranger. Malyn stammered as she spoke.

“How can blood protect me?”

Perhaps her words were a small rebellion against this unfamiliar side her mother had shown. Her mother replied in a voice so faint it was barely audible.

“Run away…”

Then her mother lost consciousness. If she was left like this, she would be burned at the stake at dawn, as planned. Malyn looked down at her mother, collapsed in her arms, for a long moment before she rose unsteadily to her feet. She had to get away. Dawn was fast approaching and she had no time left. Slowly she climbed out of the pit, only to come face to face with Thomas, his face twisted into a mischievous grin.

“You have to keep your promise.”

“……”

The promise that her blood would protect her had been a lie. Malyn was taken into the forest. As she had feared, Thomas did more than touch her br*ast.

“What’s this, you’re not even a virgin?”

Thomas grumbled as if he had touched something dirty, even though it was he who had done such a dirty thing as to crush a thirteen-year-old child with his body.

Instead of explaining to Thomas what she had been through on her trip to the city, Malyn just stared at the bushes over his shoulder. It was the only way she could bear it.

Thomas turned his back on her, saying he couldn’t stay away for too long, and left her there. Malyn managed to gather her clothes, stumbling as she stood up and walked deeper into the forest. Running out of the forest would only lead to being caught by the townspeople, that much was certain.

After seven days and seven nights, Malyn finally came out the other side of the forest. In front of her was a wide open field with several houses scattered in the distance.

As she walked towards them, Malyn suddenly looked down at her apron. It was still tied around her waist, stained with dark, dried blood. If she went towards the houses dressed like that, she’d be caught and handed over to the authorities in no time.

Malyn took off the apron and turned back into the forest, returning to the spring she had found earlier. She splashed the cold water over her face and rinsed her hair. As the wind dried her hair, she held the crumpled apron and stared at it for a long time. She was sick of it, but couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.

“Mom…”

Finally Malyn sat down, still clutching the apron, and began to cry. The only things watching her were the trees.

After crying for a long time, Malyn washed her face again in the spring, trying to soothe her swollen eyes. She turned the apron inside out, but the bloodstains were still visible. So she squeezed the juice from some nearby berries and covered the brown spots with red, making them look like harmless stains.

Braiding her tangled brown hair, she gathered her strength and slowly made her way towards the houses. Nothing followed her.