PRKE 13

CHAPTER 13……………………………..

Kichef thought:

‘I hate this country.’

Even the sweet, heady scent of the flowers felt foreign, and the maids here, who always responded coyly whenever he tried to speak to them, were not to his liking.

But what bothered him most was—

“That pale, slippery-looking face of his was so annoying, I had to clench my fists the whole time. What use is a grand welcome ceremony? It means nothing when they’re harboring such filthy schemes behind the scenes.”

—the royal family.

The royal palace of Liorca, which he had only heard about in stories, was dazzlingly beautiful, but it reeked of something rotten.

Do not be blinded by gold and forget the oasis.
He didn’t know how many times he repeated the old imperial proverb to himself.

“You could tell they thought you’d be thrilled with their hospitality. And the way he talked—so shameless and smooth. Did you see his face when he said the princess couldn’t attend due to poor health? Theater actors would bow and weep.”

“The king seems to care a great deal for the princess.”

When Giovanni took off his jacket, Kichef hurried to receive it and scrunched his face.

“I’m sure he cares a lot. Enough to pull petty tricks on His Highness, it seems. I suppose he’s not afraid of the empire’s wrath.”

“It’s not the empire he’s not afraid of—it’s me.”

Giovanni spoke without emotion.

“What…? That’s upsetting to hear, Your Highness…”

Kichef, who had bristled in anger, soon trailed off gloomily.

The Rodrakki faction had always overshadowed Giovanni’s. But sheer size alone couldn’t guarantee the throne.

Rodrakki had many useless followers, while Giovanni’s few were solid and capable. His supporters still believed he had a chance—but Giovanni himself seemed indifferent, which drove Kichef mad.

If he’d just show a little more interest in the throne, so much could change…

When Giovanni sat on the sofa, Kichef hurried to bring water and fruit.

“Ah, understood.”

Though Giovanni hadn’t said a word, Kichef nodded eagerly and poured a glass of crimson liquor.

Giovanni blinked slowly, staring at Kichef in disbelief.

“This isn’t what you wanted?”

“It is, but…”

“I can read Your Highness’s heart just from your eyes. I am your top aide, you know.”

Kichef grinned.

“You’ll have a drink and then sleep, right?”

“Yes.”

“Please have this as well.”

“What is it?”

Kichef opened a basket filled with translucent sky-blue berries.

“It’s from the king’s chamberlain. They say it’s a gift from the Water God—good for restoring vitality.”

Giovanni didn’t seem particularly pleased, so Kichef added:

“They say it also helps with the endemic diseases desert people often catch in Liorca. Please try a little. Though… I don’t expect much.”

It was a closely guarded secret that imperial royalty lost their strength upon entering Liorca.

Liorca must have figured it out to some extent.

Even if they didn’t know the details, they probably suspected that imperial blood was weak to the kingdom’s climate and illnesses.

And that suspicion wasn’t entirely wrong.

Kichef recalled the king’s eyes as he subtly watched Giovanni—as though checking whether he looked ill.

“What gives that king the confidence to act so shamelessly? If His Majesty were determined, wiping a tiny kingdom like this off the map would be trivial.”

Giovanni, sipping his drink slowly, replied:

“But he knows the empire can’t do that easily.”

“……”

“As long as the grain from this land feeds the desert people, the empire won’t touch the kingdom.”

“……”

“But Rodrakki wants the kingdom’s entire storehouses for himself.”

A strange thought crossed Kichef’s mind.

An eldest brother with too much greed, and a youngest with none at all.

Who was more suited for the throne?

When Giovanni lay down, Kichef began extinguishing the lamps, murmuring without thinking:

“But what did he mean by that?”

Giovanni’s voice rumbled quietly in the dark.

“What do you mean?”

“What King Hermann said at the end—about sending a gift to make the night enjoyable.”

“He meant the Water God’s gift.”

“But that kind of phrasing is usually used in the desert when they send women to entertain guests…”

Just then—

Knock knock.

A voice called from outside.

“I’ve brought the gift, by order of the chief chamberlain!”

Kichef froze.

“Surely they didn’t actually send a woman?”

A flash of irritation crossed Giovanni’s once-impassive face.

Rodrakki often sent women to his room as so‑called ‘gifts.’

Some had been beautiful; some were skilled dancers; some carried poison on their bodies; some hid blades in their jewelry.

He sighed. He wondered if the same nonsense would happen here in the kingdom.

“What should I do?”

“If it’s from the king, we can’t turn them away. Accept the greeting and send them off.”

“Yes, sir!”

Giovanni felt the last of his sleepiness fade.

Maybe another drink…

As he was debating, Kichef returned, scratching his head awkwardly.

“I think I guessed wrong. They say it’s a gift from some noble family. I really thought it’d be a woman…”

“That was fast.”

Giovanni’s voice cooled, and Kichef spoke more cautiously.

“It’s from the Lorencet County. The name sounds familiar… Are they famous?”

While Kichef searched his memory, Giovanni let out a dry laugh.

“Lorencet?”

“You know them?”

“It’s the surname of the woman King Hermann granted a princess’s title to.”

“What?!”

Kichef’s expression twisted in disgust.

“What kind of shameless bastards are they? I’ll throw it out immediately!”

“Leave it. The king will be watching.”

Kichef cast reluctant glances at the gift.

“I’ll withdraw now. Please rest well.”

The room soon sank into silence.

Giovanni did not lie in bed. He slowly closed and opened his eyes.

I can’t sleep.

He didn’t sleep much to begin with, but the bed was far too soft. It failed to support his back and waist.

How did the kingdom’s people sleep comfortably on such furniture?

Eventually, he gave up and got up.

Lighting a candle, he walked to the sofa.

Clink.

Another drink loosened his taut nerves.

Tap.

Setting down the glass, he turned—and noticed the unopened gifts Kichef had left.

His indifferent gaze tightened faintly.

He had no intention of opening them and started back toward the bed.

“…”

He halted.

He turned his head toward the piled boxes.

“…”

A faint sound. Too soft for an ordinary person to catch, but not for someone trained like him.

Giovanni’s brows shot up.

All trace of gentleness vanished, leaving only a cold, dry gaze.

An assassin?

Not unexpected.

Away from the empire’s watchful eyes, an assassination attempt was bound to come.

Did Rodrakki ally with the Lorencet family?

Too early to conclude.

If it were Rodrakki, he would’ve used the Shadow Veil.

But an assassin from the Shadow Veil would never make the foolish mistake of making noise during an infiltration.

The more he thought, the more questions arose.

I’ll know once I catch them.

Shing.

He drew the great blade from the wall and pointed it at the box.

“Come out.”

He waited for the assassin to burst forth.

Desert assassins were notorious for their bizarre tricks. Many had been blinded by sudden clouds of poison powder.

He planned to counterattack the moment such tricks began.

After a moment, something stirred in the box—clumsy, by an assassin’s standards.

Still, an intruder was an intruder. Sneaking in at all proved malicious intent.

He swung the blade—

“How did you know?”

He froze.

A clear, high voice.

Nothing like the rough, rasping voices of assassins.

A woman?

Giovanni frowned, lowering his blade slightly.

Click.

The lid opened—and a head popped up.

The absurd sight stole his words.

The woman blinked, her gaze flicking to the blade in his hand.

“Were you trying to kill me?”

“…”

“If so, could you reconsider?”

The “assassin” sat up inside the box.

Giovanni’s eyes widened.

Skin pale and translucent, nothing like the desert’s bronze complexions.

A dress fluttery and sheer like insect wings, revealing slender curves beneath.

Soft brown hair with a golden sheen, and water‑colored eyes rare in the desert.

The “assassin” emerging from the box resembled a nymph rumored to appear in oasis springs more than a human.

But there was none of the hollow aura of nonhuman creatures. Instead, she radiated vivid life.

She was human.

Realizing he’d been momentarily entranced, he froze. He had never been distracted by anything—object or person—before.

Suspicion quickly overwhelmed curiosity.

If she were an assassin, the moment he’d been dazed would have been perfect to strike.

Giovanni stepped back, expression hard.

“Who are you?”

No, this is not what I intended at all.

How did it come to this? She was overwhelmed, with no one to appeal to and no time to spare.

She couldn’t look away from the man before her. She couldn’t.

The faint gleam of the blade in the dark radiated a murderous intent that felt ready to spill her blood at any moment.

Thump‑thump.

Her heartbeat pounded like a drum.

Cold sweat collected on her forehead.

Whoosh!

The sound of wind, the falling guillotine blade—and darkness.

Her skull splitting, her stomach heaving.

That had been her death.

And ever since then, I can’t stand blades.

“Who are you?”

The blade pointed at her urged her to answer.

Her vision darkened.

This was definitely not how she wanted her first meeting with the prince to go.