“What do I do now?”
Al was resting in his office. Two days had passed since the incident at the prison, but his relationship with Sharon hadn’t improved one bit, and he had no plans to apologize to her anytime soon. In his mind, it was Sharon who had started spouting unreasonable nonsense, though a small voice bugged him for maybe going a bit too far himself.
He wanted to talk to her, but Sharon would rarely leave her room. When she did, it was usually for food, but she went back to her room the moment she was finished. Preoccupied with his inner struggle, he couldn’t get any work done.
“Actually, why do I care if she’s grumpy? She isn’t here destroying my room, at least,” Al said aloud in the middle of the empty room. He was nearing his wits’ end—not because of loneliness, but because the awkward atmosphere in the castle reflected poorly upon him as king. At least, that’s what he told himself.
“I’m totally, absolutely, one-hundred percent not in the wrong here, but at the same time, Sharon is a guest. I can’t be so blunt with her.” Al came up with an excuse to go out and talk to her. “Oh, speaking of which, the chefs are preparing a cake for Cecilia’s tea party. Maybe I should get a slice for Sharon. On second thought, I should get several,” he whispered to himself before making his way toward the kitchen.
“What do I do now?” Sharon asked herself as she sat on top of her bed. She knew her request was unreasonable, but she wanted Al to understand the weight of the chains on her limbs, the cold of the damp cellar floor, and the damning solitude of life behind bars.
“You moron...” She rolled around in her bed. “Did I go too far?”
She gazed at the ceiling and whispered in the silent room. She may have been heralded as a Diva now, but she was taken as a slave after her clan was destroyed at the age of six. Still, despite her severe malnourishment and the constant beatings, she had stayed strong.
I may have been captured, but I’m still the chief’s daughter. One day, I will definitely avenge my father. She managed to survive by clinging to that fickle hope.
But fate had other plans. The king of Freiya, the mortal enemy of her clan, bought her as a potential candidate to inherit the Diva’s powers. At first, she viewed it as a perfect chance to get revenge, but she soon learned how naive she was. The torturous training she was subjected to on a daily basis, the unspeakable punishments she suffered at the first sign of resistance, everything she went through was designed to completely subjugate her thoughts and feelings. As little as a questionable look would lead to a merciless beating—often with a whip—being starved for days, and sleepless nights in a cold cell.
Her will broke in a month, but she’d locked her precious wish for revenge deep inside her heart long before that. Ever since those days, she had been waiting for her chance to strike while obediently following their every order like a mindless doll, right up until the day she became a Diva and came to Althos to murder its king. The fact that her punishment for failing the assassination and disobeying Freiya’s orders had not yet come was thanks to Al’s dealings with them behind the scenes.
Wait, am I really in a position to ignore his decisions and call him names after all he’s done for me?
Al had always let Sharon’s inability to show him gratitude slide, but calling him names may have been crossing the line. However, Sharon was too proud to go up and discuss the issue with him herself, putting things at a standstill. With such thoughts swimming around her head, she was interrupted by a knock on the door. She immediately knew it was a certain young king.
“Do you have any idea what time it is!?” Despite her complaints, she sprung up from the bed. Just as she was reaching for the handle, her hand abruptly stopped.
“Ah! My hair!” She bolted to the dresser in a corner of the room, got herself ready in a heartbeat, and rushed back to the door. She took a deep breath, put on a smile, and opened the door.
“Who is it at this hour? I’m just about to head to sleep, y’know,” she said in as annoyed a tone as she could muster.
“Oh? How dare you speak to me like that.”
“Huh? Wait, why...” A chill ran down Sharon’s spine as she stared at her unexpected guest.
“Know your place. The fact that you’re a Diva changes nothing.” Ranbolg looked at Sharon with disdain.
“M-My sincerest apologies. I was expecting someone else.” Sharon hung her head in an attempt to hide her disheartened expression.
“Well, it matters not,” he said with a sarcastic, friendly smile.
“Thank you very much.” Sharon didn’t return his smile; she kept her eyes fixed on the floor.
“May I ask what brings you here tonight?” she asked while tensing her muscles to hide the absolute terror welling up inside her. If her focus were to break, the painful memories locked away deep in her mind would resurface, poisoning her soul.
“I have something to discuss with you.”
“What would that be?”
This was the first time Ranbolg, who looked down on everyone around him, had initiated a one-on-one discussion with Sharon. It piqued her curiosity.
“We can’t talk here. Let me in!” he ordered, much to her chagrin. Just hearing him talk in his bossy, unsophisticated, crude manner made her want to vomit. “Hate” was too weak a word to describe how she felt about this man—she loathed his entire existence.
But learning his weakness would be useful information for both me and Al. She wasn’t going to bury the hatchet with him, but she was ready to listen to what he had to say, so she awkwardly showed him inside.
“Come in...”