Xander looked around.
Complete silence.
It was so quiet that the low, unnoticed hums of the orb could be heard.
That silence dragged for seconds that might as well have been an eternity.
Xander felt his chest tighten. He could feel it. The influx of turbulent emotions from Alex.
Alex stared at the red floating texts, eyes unable to peel from them.
The king was no different. The shock on his face was extended to Leopold, the clergyman, and everyone involved.
"This..." Alex began, tongue dry, "...can’t be possible. IT CAN’T BE POSSIBLE!"
He leaned in, grabbing the clergyman by his robes. "Do it again." He demanded, touching the orb again.
[Ding]
[Congratulations: Your profession is Villainy]
"No... it’s wrong. It can’t be possible. It’s wrong. It must be broken. Yes... it’s broken.
FIX IT!!!" He demanded, but the clergyman stared at him with a concentrated gaze.
For a while, no one moved. Just watched.
Alex touched the orb again, squeezing it, and then he began to punch it.
The clergyman saw this and acted, trying to stop the young prince, but Alex turned and landed a punch on the old man’s face.
The old man fell to the ground, and Alex rushed to deliver more punches.
That was when Leopold stepped in—arms moving to subdue Alex, and with a well-practiced flip, pinned him to the ground.
Alex still tried to struggle.
"ENOUGH!" The king’s voice boomed.
It provided temporary calm to the already shocked Alex.
King Polymer turned to the clergyman, "What is your verdict?"
The guards had rushed over to help the old man up.
Blood fell from his nose.
He wiped it, stared at the mess in his palm, and then gritting his uneven teeth in anger, he pointed at Alex.
"NEGATIVE PROFESSION!"
Those two words. The declaration that sealed his fate landed like sledgehammers.
"No... No..." Alex tried to struggle, but it was no use. Leopoldo’s hold was like a boulder on him.
All Alex could do was turn to King Polymer—his father.
Xander, watching by the side, could see hope in Alex’s eyes.
A plea.
No doubt, this was his last hope.
And in return, King Polymer raised a hand, looking at the people gathered and then back at his son, pinned on the ground.
His expression was ever-cold and expressionless. It carried the irrefutable logic of a country’s leader.
"The verdict has been given. You have twenty-four hours to live."
Those words destroyed any remaining hope Alex had.
King Polmer turned. "Take him away."
The guards rushed over, taking him from Leopold.
Alex could not stop struggling. By now, the tears had begun to fall.
He was like a desert traveler, begging and fighting for a drop of water with his life.
The guards pulled him away as all in the square looked at him with that same look of disgust he had given the countryside girl moments ago.
In this manner, the doors closed behind him; only the echoes of his screams could be heard in the arena.
The memory changed again...
Xander found himself in a room. It was royally decorated with gold fittings: chandelier, table and chairs, and mirrors.
All of it displayed incredible wealth. Even better, it was wide and spacious.
A king-sized canopy bed with drapes sat in the middle of the room like a huge pearl around the neck of a lady.
It was well dressed, and the sight of it spoke volumes of the comfort it would provide.
But Alex did not find comfort in it. Instead, the prince was rolled like a ball on the cold floor.
A mix of tears and flowing mucus had ruined his perfect looks.
But what had really caught Xander’s attention were his fingers.
Alex had bitten into them so deep that they bled at the edges.
The door CLICKED open; a woman in her twenties stepped into the room holding a silver tray with a steaming hot bowl of soup. From her attire, colored black and white, Xander easily understood that she was a maid.
Alex did not acknowledge her presence.
But Xander stared at her.
He saw the way she looked at Alex.
Like one would view a rat trying to steal their favorite snack.
Vermin.
The maid called, "Pri—" she corrected herself. "Alex, your food is ready."
Without waiting for his reply, she dropped the tray on the table, not mindful of the soup spilling.
Then she turned to leave.
The door closed behind her, but Alex could still hear the whispers.
The maids.
Simply out of curiosity, he pulled himself up and leaned closer.
The maid had not shut the door properly.
"Why do we still need to serve that trash?" One asked.
"After all, he is still going to die tomorrow."
"I never liked him at all. Always making me curdle him to sleep, like I’m his mother.
"Trash," she spat. "Negative professions deserve the death coming to them." All the maids nodded in agreement.
As they left, Alex noticed the maid give a side glance towards his room and smiled.
His eyes widened in realization. It was intentional—she left the door open just enough that he could hear their disgust of him.
They hid it no more.
Xander watched as Alex pulled himself back into the room. The prince’s eyes fell on the hot bowl of soup.
It was hot.
This was a bad sign. Alex never ate hot food. It only meant one thing.
No one bothered tasting the food for poison.
For a full minute, Alex stood there, staring at the food.
Once upon a time in his life, he had wished for a hot meal, but now, fear overwhelmed him.
He did not want to die. No, he didn’t.
This thought saturated his mind until it turned into something else.
He gritted his teeth. Fingers molding into a fist.
"I am not TRASH!" He SMACKED the tray of soup to the ground.
But this alone was not enough to quench his boiling blood.
He flipped the table, and then he used one of the chairs to smash the mirrors.
Still not enough.
He went for the bed, pulling down the drapes, destroying anything his hands came upon.
In his rage, he did not notice a figure standing behind.
"Redecorating?" The voice came, mature and cold.
Alex paused.
"Don’t let me stop you. After all, Trash lives with Trash."
Alex turned. "Mother!"