It was a place that was splendid only in appearance. There were glorious buildings, each beautifully decorated, and women dressed in the finest garments. This place where the king’s harem dwelt—known as the inner palace—was where I was born and raised.
The King of Ethenell at that time was known for his lustful habit of having any woman who caught his fancy brought to the inner palace, where his harem steadily grew. Despite his initial enthusiasm, the fickle king soon grew tired of these women, though it was said there were some among them who reveled in the opportunity to spend a brief period of time in the lap of luxury.
The most unfortunate women in the king’s harem were those unlucky enough to become pregnant with his children. Once a woman was found to be carrying a child of the king, she could hardly be allowed to return to the outside world. It was said that some of these women—who had not even come here of their own volition and were more or less abducted and trapped within the palace—were distressed by their lot.
Although my mother was one such woman, she was possessed of a strong will. Having been taken from a troupe of traveling performers who had, by coincidence, passed through Ethenell, she was forced to satisfy the king’s desires and, once found to be with child, was not allowed to leave. Most women faced with these circumstances would have spent their days weeping, or might have even resorted to taking their own lives. But my mother always held her head high and continued looking forward.
“When you’re a little older, let’s leave this place and travel the world together,” my mother said one time, with light shining in her eyes. I knew for certain that her words were not empty. “I joined a band of travelers who came here from a foreign land, far, far away,” my mother once told me. Despite the adversity she had been thrown into, she was strong, and always looked to the future.
However, no matter how strong her will might have been, there was one thing she had no way of overcoming. That was the kingdom’s climate. My mother, whose skin was as white as snow, said she was born somewhere cold. This must have been the reason she was astonishingly sensitive to hot weather. Though it wasn’t so bad in fall and winter, when summer came around she was unable to withstand the heat and frequently became ill.
Even so, she still spared no effort in taking care of me, with hopes of the two of us being able to leave together one day spurring her onward. But during one summer, in the year I was to turn six years old, things changed. Her body apparently unable to stand the heat, my mother became terribly ill and was eventually bedridden. It was during that illness that she passed away.
I was grief-stricken and nearly lost my mind, but I was not in any position to allow myself to wallow in my grief. Among the vast sea of women and children who inhabited the inner palace, I alone had no one to care for me, and no one paid me any notice. Having lost my mother, and with everyone around me turning a blind eye, I collapsed all alone against the wall of one of the inner palace’s shining corridors and nearly died.
Why I went there I cannot recall. Perhaps it was mere coincidence, or perhaps part of me wanted to sully the spot that was considered to be the most opulent, splendid, and beautiful in all of the palace. I still wonder why. My mind was so hazy that nothing I saw seemed quite real. I had gone to a place that my mother always told me I mustn’t go near. A nobler kind of person dwelt there, people who weren’t like us. Having come to that sparkling, extravagant corridor, I fell to the floor with a thud.
After a little while, I started to hear the women around me object to my presence.
“How filthy.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Goodness me. How wretched.”
“Someone dispose of him.”
Ah, so I’m to be disposed of, like so much garbage? I thought to myself.
“Are you all right?” This voice was unlike the others. Summoning the last of my strength, I managed to open my eyes slightly to find that someone was standing in front me, though I could only see him very hazily.
“Hey, it looks like he’s still conscious. We must get him to a doctor right away,” said whoever was standing before me.
“Why would His Highness worry about the likes of him?”
“That’s right. His Highness should not concern himself with one so lowly.”
I heard other voices make such comments as those.
“Quiet. I’m in a hurry,” said the man who had stopped for me, silencing his critics at a stroke. “Just hang in there a little longer.”
As he said those last words, his hands reached out toward me. I felt the sensation of being lifted gently off the ground. My body was enveloped by a feeling of warmth and security that I couldn’t describe. At that moment, I finally lost consciousness.
When I awoke, the first thing I saw was a beautifully decorated ceiling, the likes of which I’d never seen before. My head, which had felt so hazy at the moment that I’d collapsed, was now largely refreshed. After slowly sitting up in bed and looking around, I saw that the room was adorned with many opulent decorations, just like the ceiling. The bed I had been resting on was just as luxurious as the rest of the room.
Where on earth am I? I wondered. What happened to me? Could it be that I really did die, and this is the afterlife?
As I sat in a daze pondering these questions, the door to the room opened with a click and a young man stepped inside.