It was a blood-stained piece of cloth. Nothing more than a torn piece of an apron. But Malyn’s words were full of meaning, forcing the king to watch her hand intently, as if it held something of great value. Slowly, Malyn rose to her feet and approached the king. Despite his towering height, he could only focus on the scrap of cloth in her hand. Malyn lowered her voice.

“Your Majesty, I didn’t get a chance to say this because you didn’t call for me, but there is something I want to tell you.”

“Speak.”

“Do you know what I saw on the day of the duel?”

“Did you see something?”

Malyn’s lowered voice made the king visibly tense. She stepped closer until she was standing directly in front of him, looked around and then whispered to him.

“Your Majesty, may I have your ear?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the king leaned forward. Malyn raised her hand to his ear as if to whisper, while in her other hand she held the blood-stained cloth and waved it in front of his eyes.

“The truth is… that day.”

Malyn had learned many things while rolling through the streets, beyond how to bat her eyes at men who lifted her skirt. What she excelled at most was slipping her hand into men’s pockets when they were distracted, thinking only of what was under her skirt. Even the most experienced thieves would not notice their money disappearing when they were focused on their desires. So it was easy for Malyn to loosen the bonds of King Veldam’s mask.

“I have seen Your Majesty’s true face.”

Clang.

“You mad wench!”

It had been an easy task.

With a thud, Malyn was thrown backwards, falling so hard that her head hit the stone floor. But she saw it. She saw the golden mask fall to the floor, revealing the king’s trembling eyes, his forehead, and his entire face through the strands of his hair.

“Don’t look! You madwoman, I’ll – where is it?”

The king fell to his knees, covered his face with his hands and began frantically searching the ground with one hand. But Malyn was quicker. Despite the blow to the head, she narrowed her eyes, stood up and kicked the mask away from him. Clink, clink… The golden mask rolled across the stone floor. The king screamed.

“I will kill you!”

“I’m not dead yet.”

The king froze. Malyn stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the mask as he crawled towards it. Still covering his face, he looked up at her through his fingers. Malyn sneered.

“I’m still alive.”

That day, during the duel, Malyn had clearly seen the face hidden beneath the veil as she had stood beneath the king. He had let his guard down, never imagining that someone standing beneath him could see his face. But Malyn had looked.

An utterly ordinary… and pathetically ugly face.

“When I saw your face that day, I realised something as I looked at you and myself – ah, it was all a lie.”

Malyn curled her lips into a mocking smile. The king flinched, then exclaimed.

“You! That knight must have been acting on your orders!”

He lunged at her, but Malyn dodged quickly and ran to the bed, grabbing the bell.

“One more step and I’ll pull this.”

“You…!”

The king gritted his teeth and Malyn laughed.

“Stop covering your face. As if there’s anything worth seeing on that great face of yours.”

Despite her words, the king kept his hands over his face. Malyn didn’t know why he was so insistent, but she could guess one thing – his face under the mask was too ugly to be covered by his hands alone. She had seen a face like that once, on a street performer who attracted attention with his looks and captivated the crowd with his witty banter. At first people would gasp at his appearance, but then they would laugh, clap and throw coins at him.

The king’s face was certainly different from the jester’s, but comparable in its absurdity. His eyes were sharp but misshapen, and the nose, hidden beneath the high, pointed mask, was shockingly absent. His lips, always visible, were thin and red, but the rest of his face was mottled from wearing the mask for so long without ventilation, with patches of redness and even some areas filled with pus.

“You wretched girl…”

The king gritted his teeth, but in contrast, a smile crept to Malyn’s lips. When she had grabbed the bell, she hadn’t been sure if he would kill her or not. It was a gamble with her life, but her guess had been right. He was afraid the others would see his face.

“I already know that no one will die from seeing your face. So what’s the problem?”

“Silence.”

Despite his growl, the king was careful, afraid to raise his voice too much, afraid that the servants will rush in. He looked at her, then moved subtly closer to the mask. Malyn smiled slightly, tugging on the bell’s cord just enough to make it sway without pulling it completely, which was enough to threaten him. The king flinched, then spoke.

“Tell me what you want.”

“…Oh my.”

Malyn couldn’t even laugh. The sound that escaped her was more of a gasp than a sneer, a sound of desperation.

“When I cried and begged, you wouldn’t even listen. But now you ask what I want?”

The king hastily replied to her mocking tone.

“If you want… if you want a child…”

“Your Majesty.”

Malyn interrupted him, and at that moment a shiver ran down her spine. She had just interrupted the King! And despite her audacity, he couldn’t bring himself to strike her, just to wait for her to speak. A thrill blossomed in her mind – a situation she had never imagined could happen twice in her life. Someone as powerful as the king hanging on her every word.

She smiled softly.

“Your queen doesn’t want anything as childish as a baby.”

“Then… what do you want…?”

“It was a lie from the start, wasn’t it?”

The king fell silent, as if struck. Malyn was sure now. The witch’s curse must have been nothing but fiction.

The story she had heard, the one she had pondered since the day of the duel, claimed that if he ever showed his face to anyone but his parents, they would vomit blood and die. It seemed absurd in retrospect. From her time as a maid, Malyn had learned that nobles, for all their power, depended heavily on others. Even commoners needed the help of a midwife during childbirth.

Did the queen really tend to the newborn king herself? Unlikely. No matter how carefully he grew up masked and veiled, who put the mask on the child? Did the queen and king continue to do so until the child was old enough to put it on himself?

Impossible. Even if there was a small chance of truth, Malyn was certain after seeing the king’s face that day – it was all a lie. If it wasn’t, why hadn’t she, looking up at him from below, vomited blood or died when she saw his face?

“People of high rank love beauty and charm. They like to be praised for their splendid and striking appearance. But it seems that Your Majesty’s face… wasn’t quite fit for such admiration.”

“Watch your words.”

The king gasped as he spoke. Malyn clung to the pull of the bell as if it were her lifeline, trying to taunt him as much as possible. But it wasn’t easy. She found it hard to believe that people had died for something so trivial.