TPOK 02

Chapter 02

Thinking back on the contents of the letter I had received yesterday, I let out another sigh. Ever since I had suffered badly from measles and come close to death, I had always resented my limbs for refusing to grow any longer.

I am not ten years old.

I am twelve years old!

A person who can even add fractions—someone who could practically be considered an adult.

But I decided not to correct that misunderstanding.

From now on, I was ten years old.

A little child who knew nothing about politics and couldn’t even add fractions.

The reason was simple.

“Those men were scary, weren’t they…?”

Most children enjoy fantasizing that they are secretly princesses of a hidden royal family.

Unfortunately, my mind was far more mature than those of children my age. I was observant, and I could read the greed that filled the eyes of the adults I had met last night.

Of course, a bed warmer than the straw piles back home and silk clothes that didn’t scratch my skin were wonderful.

But that was all.

My survival instincts were strong. The moment I stepped into this place, I realized it.

The ceiling of this palace might be magnificent, but the floor beneath it was thinner than a sheet of ice.

“It’s fine. I’m ten years old. Still ten years old. Adults should be the ones fighting among themselves.”

I thought about how ordinary ten-year-olds usually acted.

I wasn’t old enough to use a childish voice, was I?

I would rather bite my tongue and die than force myself to do something like that.

I hopped down from the bed and approached the desk.

There were piles of writing tools that looked brand new.

I wanted to pick up the most impressive-looking metal pen, but since it seemed complicated to use, I grabbed some colorful pieces of wax instead.

Then I opened the small notebook that stood out the most on the desk and—

[Clown?

—Extremely flashy uncle.

—Strange.]

[Thunder]

—Extremely loud uncle.

—Seems somewhat kind.

—And probably very stupid.]

[Big Person]

—Extremely huge uncle.

—Scary.]

It wasn’t particularly meaningful.

Still, writing down what little I knew made me feel better.

I thought if I continued adding things here, it would help me keep my composure.

Just then, a soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

“Breakfast is ready.”

A voice came from the other side.

I answered, “Come in,” in a trembling voice, but it sounded less like a human voice and more like a squeaking mouse.

The door slid open, and the morning sunlight poured directly into my eyes.

“I’m coming in!”

The source of the blinding light was the man I had called the “Clown King” yesterday.

Or rather, it was the accessories hanging from his body.

He had at least forty pieces of jewelry dangling all over him. His arms, especially, were covered completely in various golden bracelets, to the point where I wondered how he could even bend his joints.

The shining man entered the room with a bright smile.

Several servants followed behind him, sweating nervously and looking unsure of what to do. They were probably the ones who normally carried meals.

“Good morning, Princess!”

The Clown King greeted me energetically.

His cheerful expression instantly eased my anxiety a little, and I cautiously replied,

“Good morning.”

Looking at him up close, I noticed something strange.

His ears.

Both of the man’s ears were stretched horizontally, making it look as though he had four small ears. Numerous earrings were attached along the cleanly cut edges.

“Pretty, right?”

The man smiled after noticing my gaze.

“I cut them myself. This way, I can wear twice as many earrings as other people. I’m pretty smart, aren’t I?”

“…Is breakfast usually served like this?”

“No! But you just arrived yesterday, and eating alone would be lonely, wouldn’t it? Ah, can I speak casually? You can too.”

His playful eyes sparkled as he began handing me utensils with a clattering sound.

“I’m actually pretty young. Unlike that huge guy… Of course, I’m not exactly too young to be your father either, but still. It’s close.”

Before I could answer, he had already started speaking informally.

His chatter never stopped.

“You said you grew up in a coastal village, right? Do you prefer salty food? Ah, maybe your standards for seasoning are different. Anyway, I tried making it with the feeling of food from that area.”

The Clown King continued talking without waiting for an answer and placed several small bowls of breakfast on the table.

A white silk cloth was tightly wrapped around one of the fingers holding a green bowl.

“Ah.”

He hurriedly hid his hand, looking embarrassed, and laughed awkwardly.

A faint reddish stain was visible at the end of the bandage.

It seemed he had cut his fingertip just moments ago.

“I don’t know if it’ll suit your taste. I don’t cook often.”

On the small table was minced fish shaped into balls and boiled in broth.

A familiar dish.

Though compared to the version I knew, there was much less broth, and the sizes of the fish balls were completely inconsistent.

Did he make this himself?

“What are you going to do after eating?”

“I’m not sure…”

“You’re scheduled to receive a tour of the building and surrounding areas today.”

An elderly female servant who had been standing quietly behind us—but somehow felt overwhelmingly present—spoke.

Her tone was rather strong for someone addressing a king.

“Great. I’ll handle it.”

“You have plans.”

“I don’t really have anything to do besides wandering around like a useless person anyway, do I?”

The Clown King burst into laughter before even finishing his sentence.

The servant frowned uncomfortably.

I felt uncomfortable too.

The bedsheet beneath me was as soft as a cloud, yet I felt like I was sitting on a bed of thorns.

‘It’s not very tasty.’

Unable to agree or object, I simply scraped away at the bland fish balls.

They weren’t very delicious, but food someone had gone through the effort to make for me felt strangely pleasant.

The tour was more boring than expected.

And at the same time, more enjoyable than expected.

Even a grand mansion like this was not particularly interesting in terms of architecture.

A castle placed upon a vast desert possessed a sense of intimidation simply because of its size.

But that was all.

Its exterior was ultimately nothing more than a dull ivory mass.

Only the Clown King’s witty explanations managed to make it interesting.

I couldn’t imagine how boring it would have been if I had walked around with those old servants instead.

“…And that’s the storage room. But you probably won’t have any reason to use it.”

“That tower is very tall.”

“That’s where the Big King stays. You saw him yesterday, right? He’s really tall.”

He probably wasn’t that tall.

But since he didn’t sound like he was joking, I kept my comment to myself.

“The building I use is—no, wait, I mean, that side…”

“Call me Clown.”

The man grinned, revealing his crooked teeth.

“At this point, calling only one person ‘father’ would be a little strange. But calling someone who might be your father by his real name is also strange… Personally, I don’t mind, but the Big King absolutely refuses.”

“May I ask why you’re called Clown?”

“Hmm. Why do you think?”

“I understand Big King and Thunder King…”

“You understand Thunder King? Why do you think he’s called Thunder?”

“Because of his voice…”

The Clown burst out laughing before I could even finish my sentence.

Not the pretty smile I had seen before.

His nose wrinkled, his face turned red, and he laughed so hard he bent backward.

“No, hahaha! No, that’s not it.”

Like a child sharing a fun secret, he bent his knees slightly and whispered.

“Listen, the truth is—”

At that moment, the side door of the corridor they were passing suddenly flew open with a loud bang.

“Who’s there?!”

“Ah! Damn it…”

I jumped in surprise.

Wasn’t that a sliding door?

I looked again.

It definitely was a sliding door.

It had simply come loose from its track because it had been opened too violently and toppled forward.

Behind the door stood the man with the thunderous voice, holding a sword and looking ready to charge.

The man called Thunder King.

“What are you doing here?”

“What? It was you, Clown…? What are you doing? This is in front of my room.”

“…Showing her around.”

Thunder made a humming sound and finally looked down at me.

“Hm. Hm.”

He seemed unsure what he wanted to say, or even what he should say.

Despite his intimidating, muscular appearance, his attitude was like a young woman who had found a stray kitten and didn’t know what to do.

“We’re just passing by. Say goodbye to Uncle Thunder, little one~”

“We’ll visit the kitchen later. The chef seemed desperate to hit you.”

“Is there anyone who doesn’t want to hit me?”

The Clown King tried to hurry away after pushing Thunder aside.

But—

“You asked the chef to make ‘a meal that is vaguely tasty and moderately ugly,’ didn’t you?”

Thunder continued the one-sided conversation in his booming voice.

“—Hey, didn’t you ask where my room was? Want to go there? I’ll show you around!”

“A chef has pride too! Asking him to make food at the level of ‘something a beginner tried very hard to make’ is obviously something worth getting angry about!”

“Your legs aren’t tired, are they? I’ll carry you. Heave-ho!”

Before I could even answer, I was lifted up.

Rather than being carried on his back, I was held in the way a dog carries a puppy.

The thunderous voice continued echoing behind us.

“What is wrong with that finger again?! Is that blood? It is strange that the blood has not yet changed color and remains bright red like ink! My friend, I worry that you may have caught some strange illness somewhere again—”

“That man is Thunder King! This is Thunder Palace! Nothing to see here when it isn’t raining! Done! Let’s go to the next place!”

“Clown! Don’t run in the hallway! The child will imitate you!”

Thunder continued shouting after us, insisting that he go see a doctor.

But escaping him wasn’t very difficult.

Thunder King couldn’t actually run through the hallway.

He could only chase after us at a fast walk.