It was absurd, but that was what she wanted to say to the king:

I will be silent forever. If you don’t believe me, you can even cut out my tongue. Just let me leave the royal palace – me and my maid. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone your secrets.

But the words that actually escaped her lips were different.

“Even if you were the most handsome man in the world, I would never bear your child…”

“What?”

Malyn twisted her lips into a mocking smile and managed a weak laugh. The king’s grip loosened momentarily, as if stunned. Seizing the opportunity, Malyn let out everything she wanted to say.

“Among the street jesters, there are many even uglier than you. I know men whose faces have nearly melted from fever. But no matter how many I see, I still haven’t found anyone as truly repulsive as you.”

A choking sound escaped her as the king gritted his teeth and tightened his grip around her neck once more. Even as her voice faded, Malyn managed to speak.

“Just… kill me…”

If he was going to do it, she wanted him to end it quickly. She struggled to breathe, her throat tightening under his crushing grip. She gasped and choked, but the king only tightened his grip.

“Yes, you wretched girl. I’ll grant your wish and kill you, you filthy thing.”

Malyn tried to laugh, but couldn’t. Sensing her intention to mock him, the king became even more enraged, squeezing her throat as if to squeeze the life out of her.

“I’ll finish off your little maid too. I’ll ravage her tonight and then throw her body beside you. I’ll bring Dion Castle down and decorate its ruins with your bodies…”

Even as her consciousness began to fade, one thought remained – this can’t be happening, not like this. She struggled, but her body wouldn’t respond. A ringing sound filled her ears and her consciousness faded.

Then suddenly there was a choking sound. But it wasn’t coming from her throat. At the same time, the grip around her neck mysteriously weakened, as if drained of its power. Freed from its grip, Malyn collapsed to the floor, coughing violently, tears streaming down her face. But she quickly raised her head, unable to believe what she had seen just before she fell.

Before she could fully turn her head, a warm sensation spread across the palm of her hand. She looked down at her hand to see it covered in a red liquid, then lifted her tear-filled eyes to look beside her. There she saw the king, pierced by a sword, convulsing. And behind his fallen body…

was Layla.

“Ah…”

Blood spurted from the king’s mouth, splashing hot in Malyn’s face. But she was too stunned to wipe it away, looking ahead, then up at Layla.

It was Layla, even at second glance.

But instead of his usual indifferent expression, he looked panicked and urgent. He held a sword in his hand – the same sword the king had often used to torment Malyn. She had never seen it drawn from its sheath.

Layla, his face flushed, drove the sword into the king’s chest. After a moment, he let it go, as if discarding something repulsive. With a heavy thud, the king collapsed in front of Malyn. She nearly screamed, but Layla’s hand quickly covered her mouth, silencing the sound before it could escape. In his urgency to silence her, he had almost lunged at her, but he quickly pulled his hand away when he saw her struggling for air. Malyn took a shaky breath and whispered in a trembling, quiet voice.

“He’s dead… dead…”

“He’s dead.”

Layla confirmed.

Malyn’s eyes darted quickly to the door. It was slightly open, and seeing her gaze, Layla jumped to her feet, closed it tightly after checking the hallway, then returned, taking her trembling hands in his own and whispering softly.

“Don’t worry. I sent the servants away before I came in. It’s all right. No one saw anything.”

“How… how did you…”

Malyn had indeed ordered Layla to leave, but he admitted that he had ignored her plea. Though she had sent him away, Layla had been waiting outside her door.

The knights, accustomed to hearing a woman’s cries from the king’s chamber, were all absent, away on a search of the castle, leaving only the servants to stand guard. Unlike the knights, the servants were not accustomed to the screams and cries that often echoed from the king’s chambers during his nightly duties.

At every scream from Malyn and every roar from the king, the servants flinched. When the sound of breaking finally came from within the room, Layla, on the verge of tears, dismissed the reluctant servants and offered to see for herself. He insisted that since the King did not like too many people in his chambers, he would go in alone. The servants, visibly relieved, quickly dispersed.

And when Layla opened the door, he was confronted with the sight of the King strangling his lover. Without hesitation, he drew the sword closest to him – the one that always hung in the king’s chamber.

If it hadn’t been for his desperate wish for Paradi, this might never have been possible.

“I am sorry. I couldn’t leave. Not even once…”

And so, Layla bowed his head before the death his own wish had brought about. Though he said little, Malyn could sense the entire story from his expression alone.

Thinking back, Layla had often waited for her on the nights she was called to the king’s chambers. It made sense that he couldn’t simply leave just because she had told him to go. Even recently, when Malyn had tried to distance herself from him, and Layla had kept his own distance, he had still stayed close.

It had all been driven by Layla’s guilt. The silent avoidance between them since that fateful day had only added to it.

Malyn had avoided being alone with Layla in enclosed spaces, fearing she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from asking him about “that day.” And as for Layla… perhaps he felt the same.

Malyn didn’t want to blame Layla for ignoring her order and waiting for her here. She couldn’t even bring herself to do so. If he hadn’t been waiting outside the room, she would have undoubtedly lost her life at the king’s hands.

Malyn looked slowly at the man in front of her. Although she was also covered in blood, Layla was in even worse state. The hem of his dress was soaked in blood, his hair was dishevelled and his hands were also stained with blood. Ironically, despite Malyn’s trembling hands, the long, slender hand Layla was holding was burning hot, a stark contrast to his pale face. Layla blinked slowly, his long eyelashes casting shadows as he looked down at the floor, which was now gradually covered in blood. Then he looked up at Malyn. The confusion in his eyes from a few moments before was gone, replaced by the calm expression she was used to seeing.

Layla spoke in a quiet, deep voice.

“Listen carefully. From now on, don’t say a word.”

“You…”

“I’ll hold the sword, so scream. Pretend you know nothing… No, no, that won’t work. You… you’re not the kind of person who could do that.”

“Princess, no… Prince…”

Layla quickly covered her mouth. His blood-stained hand pressed tightly against her lips, and Malyn suddenly felt short of breath. Perhaps it was the metallic smell of the blood, but her head began to spin. But one thing was clear.

He was about to die now.