Chapter 1: Fallen Flower (落花)

“I will raise her as the Flower of Molvion.”

That was the declaration made by the King of Molvion when his youngest princess was born.

With brilliant golden hair and radiant emerald-green eyes, the youngest princess grew exactly as the king had proclaimed—a flower that shone beautifully beneath the sunlight.

She had no complaints about her life.

Under the king’s protection, she possessed and enjoyed only the finest and most beautiful things in the world.

She believed such a life would last forever.

But that life collapsed in an instant.

The First Prince died.

Then the king died.

The First Princess fled to the Empire with the royal seal, while the Second Prince ascended the throne as nothing more than a king in name.

And the youngest princess was forced to flee the warm, beautiful garden she had always called home—simply to survive.

Hidden among filthy, foul-smelling commoners, she watched from afar as the queen mounted the guillotine, instinctively realizing that the same fate awaited her.

So the youngest princess abandoned her kingdom and escaped to the lowest corners of the Empire.

She smeared ash across her beautiful face, cut off her lustrous golden hair, and covered what remained with mud.

She discarded the elegant dresses woven from the softest fabrics and clothed herself in coarse, worn-out rags.

She removed the luxurious shoes that had once protected her feet and walked barefoot through the mud.

No one recognized her as the youngest princess.

As she wandered through the lowest and most miserable places, she gradually forgot that she had once been a beautiful flower nurtured inside a greenhouse.

And while she struggled merely to stay alive…

The kingdom fell.

People all agreed on the reason.

Luxury.

Decadence.

Pointless wars against the barbarian tribes.

But in truth, everyone already knew.

Everything had unfolded exactly as the Empire desired.

And around that time…

The youngest princess was finally captured.

She had believed no one had noticed her escape.

But in reality, from the very moment she fled the royal palace, someone had been watching her.

The kingdom had already fallen.

So why…

Why would the Empire bother capturing the youngest princess?

“They needed an example. Or someone to bear the blame. I happened to be the perfect excuse for swallowing an entire kingdom.”

Deep within an underground prison steeped in the scent of death—

In a corner where even the torchlight failed to reach—

A woman crouched behind iron bars, hugging her knees with her thin, bony arms as she muttered softly to herself.

“What was my crime again?”

“…They said you destroyed Molvion through luxury and indulgence.”

“Ah… thank you. Right. Luxury and indulgence.”

She gave a faint laugh.

“So I destroyed Molvion because of that?”

At the man’s voice coming from the cell opposite hers, Ariana Clayton—the youngest princess of Molvion—slowly nodded.

Her faded hair had been cut short and unevenly.

She wore a rough burial robe made of thick white cloth.

Her body had wasted away until she was little more than skin and bones.

Years spent living among society’s lowest had erased the beauty that once earned her the title…

The Flower of Molvion.

Only one thing remained unchanged.

Despite her ragged appearance, her emerald eyes still shimmered beautifully in the darkness, carrying the freshness of summer itself.

“Do you intend to deny it?”

“Of course I do.”

She snorted.

“That was my idiotic older sister’s doing.”

Remembering the face of the First Princess—who had always envied her—Ariana let out a dry chuckle and slowly rose to her feet.

She staggered as she stood.

Anyone watching would have worried she might collapse at any moment.

But the person hidden within the shadows beyond the opposite bars simply watched her in silence.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Molvion fell because of His Glorious Majesty the King… and his precious children.”

She stumbled forward until she reached the bars, wrapping skeletal fingers around the cold iron.

Then the man spoke.

“It was the crime of the Claytons.”

“And your name is Ariana Clayton.”

“So…”

Ariana smiled faintly.

“Did you come to kill me?”

“Before someone else does?”

Perhaps her question had stirred something.

A figure slowly emerged from the darkness beyond the bars.

White hair that gleamed unnaturally beneath the prison torches.

A strikingly handsome face that unmistakably marked him as a foreigner.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Long, powerful arms.

And beneath them…

Large hands covered in countless scars.

It was Rashan.

The slave warrior whom the First Princess had desperately coveted out of jealousy.

“Hello.”

Ariana smiled.

“It’s nice seeing you here.”

“…Nice?”

“The fact that you came to find me means my sister is dead.”

“When did she die?”

“…Just a little while ago.”

“…That’s wonderful news.”

She truly meant it.

Upon hearing that she had become the last surviving Clayton, Ariana burst into genuine laughter.

Watching her, the white-haired man frowned slightly.

He was a man who had sacrificed everything for revenge against her family.

There was no way he could understand why Ariana was laughing now.

Only after laughing until tears welled in her eyes did she finally steady her breathing against the prison bars.

Then she looked at him.

“Arslan Taya Shan.”

Silence.

“What?”

She smiled.

“Surprised that I know your real name?”

“…How?”

His entire demeanor sharpened instantly.

It felt as though he might draw a sword and stab her without hesitation.

Yet even while trembling beneath his killing intent, Ariana answered cheerfully.

“I was curious.”

“The barbarian who pointed his sword at the Second Prince’s throat…”

“Twice.”

“Right in front of His Majesty.”

Silence.

“Oh.”

She tilted her head.

“Should I stop calling you a barbarian?”

“Should I call you…”

“The sole survivor of the Blue Mountain Tribe?”

Again…

No answer.

But Ariana hadn’t expected one.

She simply continued speaking.

“Still…”

“‘Rashan’ is much easier to say.”

“So let’s stick with that.”

“What do you think?”

Silence.

“Well, I suppose the name doesn’t really matter.”

“So…”

“When are you going to answer my question?”

She had asked more than one.

Yet Rashan seemed to know exactly which answer she wanted.

“If I said I came to kill you…”

“Would you die without resisting?”

“Hmm…”

Standing had exhausted her.

She slowly slid back down to the floor, resting her forehead against the cold iron bars that smelled faintly of rust.

Then she answered quietly.

“Honestly…”

“I’m tired.”

“I just want everything to end.”

She gave a small, bitter smile.

“Life as a fugitive is unbelievably hard.”

“If I die…”

“Everything ends.”

“So part of me really does want to die.”

“But…”

Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

“I still want to live.”

At sunrise…

She would be dragged to the guillotine.

Insulted.

Humiliated.

Forced to pay for crimes she had never committed.

Like her mother before her, she would stretch out her neck, squeeze her eyes shut, and pray only that the blade would be sharp enough to kill her in a single stroke.

A painless death…

Was a blessing in itself.

She looked at him.

“Rashan.”

“If you were going to kill me right now…”

“Could you at least make it painless?”

He didn’t answer.

She smiled sadly.

“It’s so unfair.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

After a long silence, she murmured,

“Do you know something?”

“A flower from a garden…”

“Can’t survive once it’s taken out.”

The King of Molvion had wanted to raise her as a flower.

A flower in the truest sense.

One that simply accepted the water and fertilizer given by its master and bloomed beautifully.

A flower incapable of doing anything on its own.

One that could even breathe only because the king permitted it.

Only after leaving the garden called Molvion…

Did Ariana realize how horrifying such a life truly was.

“I want to die…”

“But I don’t want to die.”

“Rashan…”

“What do you think?”

Her final question slipped from her lips more quietly than a breath.

Because she had already realized…

He was gone.

Only then did she whisper the one thing she never would have said while he was there.

“Congratulations on finishing your revenge, Rashan.”

“Every last Clayton of Molvion…”

“Died today.”

Some time later…

Soldiers arrived to escort her to the execution platform.

Dragged along by rough hands…

Pelted with garbage and filth from every direction…

Ariana was forced to kneel before the guillotine.

She slowly raised her head.

On the platform not far away stood the Empire’s Crown Prince and Second Prince, looking down upon her.

But they were not the ones she searched for.

As countless people cursed at her and pointed, shouting for her death…

She finally found him.

Though concealed beneath an old traveler’s cloak…

Those black eyes—darker than the night itself—were fixed squarely upon her.

Seeing him…

Ariana smiled.

Then she looked up at the sky.

If I was destined to die like this…

Perhaps I shouldn’t have lived as the fragrant flower of a garden.

Perhaps I should have lived as a poisonous weed in an open field.

Would I have reached a different ending?

Instead of dying as the princess of a fallen kingdom…

If only I had become its last queen…

Perhaps my death would have been a little less miserable.

Regret, arriving far too late, weighed heavily upon her heart.

The executioner stepped forward.

He forced her head down.

Beneath the gleaming blade, the pale nape of her neck lay completely exposed.

…If only I had become queen…

The crowd’s cheers grew louder.

The executioner raised the axe high.

Then—

The sharp sound of steel slicing through the air echoed across the square.

The flower fell.

The Flower of Molvion had withered.

As the crowd erupted into cheers at the fall of a flower that had never borne fruit…

A man with black eyes silently watched the scene unfold.