***
Judith’s homeland, the Tien Kingdom, was wealthier than any of its neighboring kingdoms.
Surrounded by treacherous mountains, it had little development in agriculture or fishing, but those very same mountains were overflowing with silver and rubies.
Perhaps they had placed too much faith in the seemingly endless bounty, or perhaps their downfall was inevitable.
At some point, the silver began to dwindle drastically.
As if that wasn’t enough, the ruby yield soon followed, their abundance disappearing just as quickly.
Yet, the Tien royalty and nobility, long accustomed to luxury, remained oblivious to the crisis even as mining became all but impossible.
Their lavish and indulgent lifestyle showed no signs of fading.
To make matters worse, Judith’s father, the former king, was a man consumed by a reckless and futile desire to resolve the kingdom’s crisis through war.
He drained the already depleted national treasury to fund pointless wars, only to pay reparations after each defeat.
This cycle continued for years, with his son, who inherited the throne, repeating his father’s foolish mistakes.
Three years into his reign, the Tien Kingdom suffered a crushing defeat in what they considered their final, desperate gamble—a war against the southern region.
The leader of the southern tribes demanded an exorbitant sum in reparations, threatening to annex the Tien Kingdom as a vassal state if they failed to comply.
Judith’s brother, Illand, was a man with nothing left but his pride.
He was a pathetic creature who would sooner abandon the crown on his head than endure the humiliation of having his kingdom reduced to a vassal state.
Blind to the suffering of his people, Illand ruthlessly imposed heavy taxes to pay the reparations, until an unexpected savior appeared.
The Lotheir Kingdom in the north, bordering the western sea, had long been plagued by its salty and barren soil and the constant threat of pirates.
However, it had now risen to prominence through trade with numerous countries across the sea, wielding considerable power in the region.
Queen Gilsis, who held the reins of power in the Lotheir Kingdom, offered to pay Illand’s war reparations.
Her price?
Judith, Illand’s younger sister.
She demanded that Judith marry Franz, the First Prince of Lotheir.
Illand had no reason to refuse.
After all, his useless and insignificant sister, worth less to him than a single silver coin, meant nothing.
Despite sharing the same blood, Illand always regarded Judith as utterly worthless.
At seventeen, she was a frail girl who could be easily mistaken for a child no older than fourteen, incapable of speaking with confidence, or command of any semblance of dignity, despite her royal status.
To Illand, trading such a sister for the chance to erase the kingdom’s massive debt was an easy bargain.
He gleefully accepted the offer, oblivious to the abyss into which his decision would plunge Judith’s life.
Even if he had known, he likely would have done the same.
“Your Highness, are you alright?
If you aren’t feeling well, I can ask the chef to prepare something easier to eat…”
“No, Marianne.
I’m fine.
Really,” Judith replied.
But Marianne, looking unconvinced, paced back and forth.
Judith glanced down at the warm breakfast spread on the table, a hollow chuckle escaping her lips.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just… it’s been a long time since I’ve seen warm white bread.”
“What are you talking about?
We have white bread for breakfast every day.”
“Right… we did.”
Before she died—no, before she was imprisoned in the tower—that was indeed the case.
But since her confinement, she had forgotten the taste of white bread.
It wasn’t just the bread.
Everything she once took for granted, the fresh air, warmth, even clean water to quench her thirst, had become things she could no longer even dream of.
“Marianne, would you like some?”
She tore off a piece of still-steaming bread and offered it to Marianne, whose eyes widened in surprise.
“Me?”
“Come sit and eat with me.
It’s too much for just me.”
“But, how could I possibly share a meal with the Princess?
Even the noble maids wouldn’t dare…”
“Sit and eat with me.
It’s an order.”
Judith turned away, feigning a sour expression, but she turned back to Marianne, baffled by her silence.
“Why?”
“What?
No, I… I mean, you’ve never said that before…”
Marianne hesitantly took a seat opposite her, her face a mix of confusion and bewilderment.
It was then that Judith remembered who she used to be.
Back when she was the princess of Tien, she could never utter words like, “It’s an order,” not even as a joke.
“…It’s a joke.
You know that, right?”
“O-of course, but…”
“Eat up.
The bread will get cold.”
As Judith pushed the plate towards her, Marianne hesitantly picked up a small piece, chewing it slowly.
Even while eating, she couldn’t stop glancing at Judith.
It wasn’t out of fear, but rather concern about her.
It was as if she had transformed into a completely different person overnight.
“Oh, Your Highness.
Don’t forget you have to see His Majesty before lunch today.”
Judith’s hand, holding a spoonful of soup, froze.
Marianne seemed to feel responsible, fidgeting nervously.
“What was it again?
Can you remind me?”
“His Majesty’s grand chamberlain came last night to deliver a message.
Don’t you remember?
He said His Majesty had something urgent to discuss…”
“…”
“You really don’t remember?”
Despite Marianne’s explanation, she remained silent.
It wasn’t that she didn’t remember.
There had only been one occasion in her seventeen years when the king had summoned her with “something urgent to discuss.”
‘Today’s the day.
Today is… that day.’
The small spoon in Judith’s hand trembled.
She pressed her lips tightly together, staring at her plate.
This was the day.
The day Illand’s brief order had thrown her life into the abyss.
“…No, I remember.
I need to get ready.”
“I’m not sure what’s going on, but people from Lotheir have been coming and going recently.
They might be there when you see His Majesty.
You should brace yourself, Your Highness.”
After finishing her juice, Marianne smiled brightly, as if to say, “Just leave it to me.”
* * *
After finishing her meal, Judith was led by Marianne to the vanity.
At seventeen, she had never worn makeup.
Her skin was smooth, but not particularly striking.
Despite being healthy, her pale complexion and small appetite left her with a frail appearance that didn’t match her age.
Judith stared at her reflection, as if looking at a stranger.
She couldn’t help but smirk.
The first time she had met Queen Gilsis in the Lotheir Kingdom, that cruel woman had been so pleased with her unimpressive appearance.
She had laughed cruelly, watching Judith tremble, unable to utter a single word in her defense, as if she had committed some terrible sin.
Yes, she had been satisfied.
For Queen Gilsis, it had been a perfect outcome.
Not a single coin spent to bring her Lotheir had been wasted.
Judith had been the ideal crown princess, exactly as Queen Gilsis wanted her to be.
Weak, insignificant, pitiful, like a lost creature trembling in fear.
Her goal was to completely crush Franz, whose spirit was already shattered beyond repair.
At the time, everything had gone according to the queen’s plan.
Judith had lived in fear—of Franz, of Queen Gilsis—and in the end, false accusations left her with no choice but to embrace a tragic end through suicide.
‘I’ll make her pay.’
Judith clenched her jaw as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
‘I’ll make her pay for every bit of suffering I endured.
Her and Krolld, that bastard.’
This was a chance given by the gods.
A chance to return all the terror she had endured, trapped in that dark tower, her vision fading day by day, and the crushing despair of knowing everything had ended in utter ruin.
“I’ll start combing your hair now,” Marianne held up an ivory comb, humming softly.
Just as she reached out to touch Judith’s hair, she stopped her.
She picked up a small vial of scented oil from the vanity.
“Use this to comb my hair.”
Marianne’s eyes widened again, astonished.
And it was no wonder—Judith had never used scented oils or lotions in her past life.
Illand, the man who squandered fortunes on pointless wars, would berate her for buying even the bare necessities for her appearance, calling it “extravagance”.
Yet, despite that, he had constantly berated her for not presenting herself like a proper princess.
What a madman.
Judith ground her teeth, suppressing the wave of anger rising in her at the thought of Illand.
The comb glided smoothly through her hair, now scented with the oil.
“Your Highness, you’re so strange today.
You don’t seem like yourself.”
“Do you dislike it, Marianne?”
“No, it’s not that.
I actually like it, but… I don’t know… It’s like you’ve suddenly become an adult.”
“I’m one year older than you.”
“Oh, I know.
But Your Highness, you’ve always been so delicate and fragile, like a little bird,” Marianne said, giggling softly.
Judith gave a faint smile in return, but the little bird she once was long gone.
Now, she had to become a hawk.
She had to become someone who could seize her prey with razor-sharp talons and snatch the breath out of them in an instant.