A strong wind from the South disrupted the old bridge across a small creek. There aren't that many young men left in the rural areas of the Rice Empire, but fortunately there's one left near the small creek to rebuild it.
He is tall but not very handsome. His brows are dark but his shoulders aren't broad. The people in his village call him Din.
“It's not like anyone's going to use it,” Din places his hands on his hips, contemplating the necessity of the bridge.
But he ends up sketching a design and accounting for the parts he'll need to make a new one.
“It shall be another ten thousand years that this bridge will be tested by nature again,” Din declares confidently and goes down stream to gather lumber.
As he follows the creek, the water begins to grow wider and onto the young green grass. Din rushes down to see if a selfish man has dammed the creek for irrigation or other matters.
“Landslide? This time of year?” Din scratches the temple of his crown. “When will these natural disasters end?”
Din climbs up the dirt mounds to see the scope of the dam, but slips back to catch his breath and reflects upon the corpse he saw.
Then he peeks over the dirt mound again and stares at the corpse with a tree root punctured through the stomach.
From his distance, the blood is still quite fresh and he can also hear the groaning breaths leave the corpse.
“It's a woman!” Din jumps onto the dirt mound and rushes over to the dying corpse. He calls her, “Miss! Miss!”
The mud on her face obscured her beauty, but even if she was shown in her utmost beauty Din isn't the type of man to cheat on his wife. He scoops the mud from her face, “Miss. Can you hear me? Can you understand me?”
She slowly opens her eyelids and beneath long and thick lashes are fiery ruby eyes of glass.
“Thank the gods! You're alive. Alright,” Din throws his sketches and equipment onto the dirt mound and picks up the woman in his arms.
He says to her, “Don't worry. I'll do my best, you're safe now.”
She wants to tell him that her life isn't worth saving. Her injuries are beyond treatable. She is already at Death’s door, waiting to be called into the room where the final judgement happens.
Din takes the person he believes is a dying innocent young lady back to his village, but in actuality this person is Phelan who Anastasia and her mother believed died.
The villagers are shocked but willingly sacrifice some of their supplies to save Phelan’s life.
Meanwhile Phelan is recuperating in the small village in the outskirts of the Rice Empire, Emperor Pilaf has arranged an auspicious date to spend a virgin night with the supposed Princesses of Wales.
He has yet to learn that one of them is missing.
The day before the auspicious date, Anastasia wanders aimlessly around the Palace, angry that she couldn't keep her promise to Phelan.
Everywhere she goes, she hears stories of Prince Jhaan, the third person in line for the throne as it currently is.
“When do you suppose Prince Jhaan will be Crowned?” A laundry servant asks her neighbor as they rub cloths up and down a rack.
The neighbor wipes her forehead with the back on her hand and smiles, “Why? Do you think you can catch him? It's almost noon, he and the soldiers should be running past us soon.”
“No,” she lowers her head in a flushed denial. “He's a prince. I'm only a laundry girl.”
“But you're the illegitimate daughter of the Prime Minister,” the neighbor offers a painful smile. “You can still be Empress if the time is right.”
She looks away, “I wish… If I ever get that kind of position, I'll make you my lady in waiting.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Of course. We sleep on the same bed and share the same spoon for meals. You're the closest person I have to a family. I love you,” the laundry servant grins softly as she leans on her neighbor’s shoulder.
The neighbor averts her eyes slightly with a small curl at the corners of her lips.
But as soon as she sees the topless soldiers approaching them from the East gates, her tender expression sours. She says, “Here comes your Prince Charming.”
Leading the pack is a young man barely differentiable from the other young men if not for a mysterious air around him.
He stops before the many servants doing laundry with his pack. They bow their heads and thank the people and hands that wash, dry, and fold their clothes for them.
The youngs and olds alike in the laundry station squeal embarrassingly as the young and sculpted soldiers smile at them.
Prince Jhaan gestures for his men to continue on as he stares up at Anastasia sitting in the tree that shades the laundry servants.
Without being startled, Prince Jhaan points to Anastasia and tells the laundry servants, “Please tell the Royal Priest to exorcise that ghost. Say it is an order from me.”
They gasp terrifyingly, looking to where their Prince had pointed to, yet they see nothing of the abnormalities. Still, they believe him.
“Don't worry. It's just a child,” Jhaan rolls his shoulders forward and chuckles in a teasing manner. “It is more afraid of you than you're of it. Regardless, please inform the Royal Priest of my order.”
“Allow us to relay your order,” the Prime Minister’s illegitimate daughter grabs her neighbor’s wrist and bows.
After a nod, he leaves them.
“Don't forget us when you're Empress, Gouyen,” the others say provokingly and laugh loudly when Gouyen and Michu are quite a distance away.
Anastasia puckers her lips to the side and narrows her brows, and follows the two young maidens.
The ghost girl stares at them curiously because she doesn't understand why they're so patient with others who mock them when they have such grand goals.
“Forget them,” Michu wraps her arm around Gouyen’s shoulders. “They'll look so stupid when you're Empress.”
Gouyen stops walking to hide her face in Michu’s embrace, “I don't know what I'll do without you. My weak spirit would've conformed a long time ago.”
“Well, and that's why the heavens sent me your way,” Michu hugs her friend tightly. “Come on, let's get this down so we can return in time to finish our workload for today.”
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you along with me. Now you'll less time to do all—”
“It's okay. If I didn't want to come along, you wouldn't be able to drag me with you,” Michu clicks her tongue and walks Gouyen along to the East Temple.
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