chapter 04
“You must absolutely not lift your head.”
The palace attendant repeated the warning to the young girl several times.
It was a warning she had heard before. Bai Se already knew that when one was granted an audience with the Emperor, one must not raise their head until permission was given.
As the child nodded nervously, the attendant watched her for a moment before speaking toward the closed door.
“Your Majesty, as ordered, I have brought the Princess.”
“Let her in.”
A cold voice drifted from behind the closed doors. At that merciless tone, Bai Se flinched.
She had heard that voice many times before, yet every time she did, cold sweat still broke out and her hands trembled.
When the door opened, the child kept her eyes fixed on her feet and carefully stepped forward, stopping in place.
Before the massive imperial throne, she bowed her head deeply and waited for the Emperor’s words.
Soon, the Emperor spoke a single dry sentence.
“So you’re here. I’ve never seen your face before. We’ve had no reason to meet until now.”
“Ah… h-hello, Your Majesty…”
But even then, the Emperor did not tell her to raise her head.
One moment passed. Then another.
The child could feel the sharp gaze, like an arrow, piercing into her entire body, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
‘This is better.’
If she were told to raise her head, she wouldn’t know what expression to make.
So this was better. Bai Se quietly opened her eyes again and looked at her feet, remembering the day she first came here.
The day she manifested her ability and was brought to the palace.
Back then, the Emperor had given her a choice that could decide her fate.
With time, as Bai Se became useless, she later realized that she had never truly had a choice at all—but formally, at least, it had existed.
‘But not this time…’
She had not manifested any ability, nor shown any usefulness.
So, just as Songra said, and just as the palace rumors claimed, she would be cast out.
Gulp.
Bai Se swallowed.
The small girl fidgeted with her sweaty palms, waiting for her father’s words.
Even so… still, still…
A faint hope lingered in her heart—that at the very last moment, her father might call her gently.
“You useless thing. How could a snake beastkin be born in the imperial family of Haseguk…”
The indifferent Emperor had never once granted her wish. His dry words pricked painfully at her heart.
The Emperor, as if speaking deliberately for her to hear, looked down at her with a faint smile.
“Your place has been decided.”
Why was it that even knowing it was a futile hope, even knowing what was coming, she still could not stop her heart from wishing?
“Go to the southern land—Nanto of Suzaku.”
Perhaps it was because she was still too young—so young that even if you added her past and present ages together, she would still not be an adult.
If she grew older, maybe she would no longer cling to such futile hope. Maybe things like this would no longer hurt.
But Bai Se already knew that such a future—“when she grew older”—would never come.
Because she would die in Nanto.
Without growing older, without learning more, without having time to understand anything.
“Whether you live or die there, do as you please.”
Hearing the Emperor’s words piercing her ears, Bai Se slowly clenched her small hands.
‘So it was true.’
That she was originally meant to be discarded. That if she had stayed just one more week, she would have been thrown away—just as Songra had said.
It was all true.
And yet Bai Se felt both glad and not glad. No—perhaps it was sadness.
She was finally being cast out as intended, so why did it hurt?
She blinked, her eyes stinging, and bit her lip tightly.
Then, after a moment, she slowly lifted her head and looked at the Emperor.
At her sudden action, everyone in the room froze in shock. Even the Emperor was no exception.
Looking up at him, the child thought his expression was more painful than she had imagined.
This was the second time she was being cast out by her father.
But even if you experience sorrow twice, it does not become any less painful.
Still, she forced herself not to cry and managed a trembling smile.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
But she could not stop the tears that spilled out like a broken spring.
A single tear rolled down her pale cheek and gathered at her chin.
Yet instead of wiping it away, Bai Se continued speaking, her small lips trembling.
“Thank you… for raising me until now.”
In the silence, the child slowly, very slowly bowed her head and offered her final farewell.
“Please… stay healthy.”
Those last words were not directed to the Emperor.
“Please recover well.”
They were meant for the owner of the hand she had held onto until she was cast out.
At the child’s reaction, the Emperor raised an eyebrow.
His dark eyes, narrowed, pierced the child standing at his feet.
Unkempt long hair, a small and frail body smaller than her peers.
A child of about seven years old.
Even so, she must know what Nanto was.
All beastkin of Haseguk grew up hearing stories of the cursed southern land.
So she would know that going there meant death.
And she would also know that it was because dragons could not kill their own offspring due to heavenly law, and thus they were sent there instead.
And yet—
“Thank you for raising me.”
“Please stay healthy.”
Could a seven-year-old say such things?
Wouldn’t a child her age normally cry, beg, and plead not to be cast out?
If Yeryun or Songra had heard this, they would have clung to his legs and cried until they collapsed.
But this child did not.
She neither cried nor begged nor trembled asking him to reconsider.
She simply lifted her head, looked her father in the eye, and smiled faintly through tear-streaked cheeks, as if she had been waiting for this moment all along.
Through her wet bangs, her pitch-black eyes showed no hope, no expectation—no emotion at all. They were strangely transparent, almost resembling his own.
But—
‘What does it matter.’
She was already an abandoned child.
Now that he had decided to cast her out, her unusual reaction meant nothing.
Even the fact that he had only just learned what color her eyes were was unimportant.
Even the fact that today might be her birthday was unimportant.
She was simply leaving the way she had come.
At the Emperor’s gesture, the small girl obediently stepped back and left.
Her legs trembled slightly as she walked, but she never once looked back.
A faint tear stain remained where she had stood, but it quickly dried without a trace.
Watching this indifferently, the Emperor spoke to the scribe kneeling nearby.
“Record that the princess was expelled from the palace today.”
Then, as if remembering something belatedly, he added,
“To avoid confusion with other princesses, write that Princess Bai Se (White Snake) was expelled.”
The scribe slowly moved his hand and recorded that the girl had left the palace.
That single line became the only proof that the girl had ever existed in the imperial palace.
From that moment on, everything proceeded swiftly.
A carriage had already been prepared, and attendants who would see her off gathered in clusters before the narrow gate of the palace.
Normally, when someone of the royal family left the palace, all attendants who had served them would come to see them off as tradition.
But Bai Se had only three attendants assigned to her residence, so only those three stood beside the carriage.
As Bai Se approached, she stopped when she saw a familiar attendant.
She was the only person in the entire palace who had cared for Bai Se, even if only a little.
‘I’ll be better off without her.’
In truth, her residence was no different from exile. In the palace hierarchy, attendants were ranked according to the master they served. If they found a better master than her, they would live in much better conditions.
Thinking that way made it slightly less painful.
As Bai Se, tense-faced, climbed into the carriage, the guards assigned to escort her to the southern land took their positions on both sides.
Soon after, the carriage slowly began to move.
