Bringing the dawn of the day, the sun suddenly streamed through the window hurting Iltier’s eyes. She sat still in her chair, gazing into nothingness through the window, dark circles under her eyes.

The night before had been a bit cold, much like the previous nights due to the cloudy weather of the season. Ironically, the sun made an appearance that morning. Although its rays were strong in her eyes, they felt weakly warm as they touched her cold skin. However, she didn't feel warm at all.

Looking down at her stomach, she opened her left hand and saw the wolf symbol of the Silvrain Family crest on the switchblade lodged there. Beneath her feet, a blue-bladed sword was now red, resting in a puddle of blood. Both blades, a set gifted by the Ehrath and Silvrain families, were now stained with blood.

The drops of blood hitting the floor seemed to mimic a clock.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

However, time for what she desired didn't seem to come at all.

It was painful.
She had no doubt it would be, but not to that extent.
A switchblade going through her stomach was no laughing matter, yet she laughed amidst the pain.

Every detail of the day that insisted on playing continuously in her memory and in her dreams exuded irony.

The same sun hurting her eyes.
No hint of blame in their faces.
The injustices.
Her blade being inevitably used that way.

Their words.

“Nghnn.” without strengh, her head dropped. She carefully gripped the switchblade, even a faint breath was enough to make her feel the blade piercing her entrails.

The pain was brutal but it was not enough to make her pass out. She didn’t even have strengh to scream over the pain, well, she didn’t want to scream to begin with.

The only thing she could do was cry, cry to her heart’s content. It was hurting so much both in her stomach and in her heart that she wanted to cry until the moment she would finally feel no pain anymore.

It took seconds for the switchblade to pierce through her, but why were her eyes taking forever to close? She wondered.

To her, it seemed fair, though. Now she could finally cry without regret. She deserved it, Iltier knew that.

Steps suddenly broke the blood-drop silent room. She thought it would take them longer to come, but she was wrong. They were calling her name.

But her consciousness, now trying to focus on their voices, began to fade, her body losing strength and sliding off the chair. Will I be able to rest a little?

"Ilty, it's alright, nothing will change between us."

Ahaha... It's not fair, right? For me to rest. 

***

When Iltier opened her eyes, without even realizing that they were closed, she found herself standing in an unknown place.

Unconsciously, she put her hand on her stomach and looked around her own body, but no wound could be seen, no pain could be felt. Her sword and switchblade were sheathed without even a drop of blood. She was wearing the clothes she had on during her Imperial Journey.

She looked around curiously. As the princess of the Ashtaria Empire, there were very few places Iltier was unfamiliar with in her world, and even so, she was certain that the place she found herself in at that moment was not one of them. She just knew it.

Even though the entire garden looked like something she would see while sleeping, her mind was too confused to believe that the wound on her stomach, which had mysteriously disappeared, was nothing but a dream. Everything that had happened so far felt too tangible to dismiss as mere imagination.

Everything until that moment wasn't important, or so her mind was telling her. The only thing she should do was walk towards someone in the place she was.

In the unknown garden she was.

Suddenly, another thought crossed her mind. In the vastness of trees and flowers she was walking through, only one person could be seen. As if in that infinity, there was only him. And her.

In her mind, going towards that person was what she was supposed to do.

After crossing a small lake using round stones as a bridge, she removed her shoes at the entrance, noticing the man’s wooden sandals on the ground, and entered a small and well-detailed gazebo.

The mysterious look of the person who was waiting for her was welcoming.

Iltier disarmed herself and placed the sword near where she would sit. There weren't any chairs or anything else resembling one, just a cushion. Taking into consideration the stance of the man in front of her, he was probably using one too. She then, unreservedly, sat there, crossing her legs to be as close to the table as he was.

Everything was peaceful, as if she were at home, even though it was the first time she was in that place. Whatever was happening, it didn't look dangerous in the least.

"What is this place?” she asked without greeting him. Greetings were unnecessary, or so her mind was telling her. “Naturally, if it is permitted for me to ask. Ah, but... 'Dream'? No... it looks like it, but...” Another country didn't even cross her mind; another world was an even stranger idea. She couldn't grasp where she was, and so, confused thoughts filled her mind.

The person in front of her was somewhat direct in his gazes and gestures, which gave her the feeling that she was in front of someone like the people she trusted the most.

“This is not a dream.” He said in a calm manner, looking directly at her. She understood his words but at the same time she did not. It was as if he was speaking in another language, an unknown language.

He offered her something to drink and she politely accepted.

“That's what I thought. It looks like a dream because there’s a lot of information in my mind just like when we dream and we know what is happening. But, at the same time, it feels so real. This place, I mean.” She looked everywhere from where she sat, and she couldn't recognize anything; even the gazebo where they were sitting seemed otherworldly to her. It was built in a different way from her world, even considering all countries and cultures. 

The place just didn’t look like a place that would be in Mardrake. But... “And yet, I feel that this is of no importance at all.” Her gaze, once wandering, came back to his eyes, which were observing her, a faint laugh on his lips.

The drink he offered came from the same pot as the one he was now drinking. 

“Is there something...” He began to talk again in a calm manner, one hand holding the cup with the drink, and the other hand unnecessarily serving as a support to the same cup. He was somehow on his knees, yet it didn't look uncomfortable to him in the least.

His clothes were another thing that Iltier had never seen in her life. It looked like a dress with long sleeves, but it didn’t look feminine at all; on the contrary, it matched perfectly his silhouette. To her eyes, he exuded elegance. But what caught her attention the most was his voice—a husking and soothing tone that reminded her of her mother’s.

Ah... that’s why I’m not guarded around him; he has the same feeling as my mother’s. Even the pace of his speaking.

“...urgently unpleasant about this place?”

‘Urgently unpleasant’? Did my looking around made him uncomfortable? And if there is, what is he gonna do about it?'

Iltier frowned at the man in front of her.

“Not unpleasant, I should say, but...” She answered promptly while again looking around. It was a fascinating place, like one she could never see in any part of Mardrake, her world.

Besides the lake with round rocks and red fish, Iltier could see trees so exquisite that anyone would think it was a painting rather than reality. They looked too perfect to be something made by nature, since in her mind 'nature' was wild and unpredictable.

The gazebo was small by her standards, perhaps enough to comfortably fit four people, one on each side of the square table at the center. Other than the table with its pot and cups of various shapes, along with the cushions, there wasn't much else in the gazebo. It was simple from the perspective of the princess of the Ashtarian Empire. However, the gazebo itself had been built in a rich and detailed way, an exceptional work of art that complemented the entire scene.

On their side, outside of the gazebo, there was another tree with something like a fruit she had never seen in her life. It was red and big enough to not fit in her hand. The base of the fruit had something resembling a crown, similar to the crowns of the kings of Viscerda, the neighboring Kingdom. Surrounding them were all kinds of white flowers, painting the scenario as if they were in the North of the same kingdom, in a garden of small and white Kanurias.

“Unknown?” Her gaze returned to him as he spoke what was on her mind. Yes, unknown. Completely unknown. Yet, a bit, but just a bit familiar. And I don’t know how or why.

Iltier looked down at her drink in a rounded and tiny cup without handles. In fact, she was curious about the taste of the offered drink, and as she saw him drinking, she thought it would be safe to do so. “Yes. Unknown. Besides...”

 “I am not talking in your language, and this is due to the fact that I don't belong here.” He answered, as if he knew what was on her mind.

 ‘I don’t belong here’?

“So, which Kingdom or country? ...Ah but, for some reason this is not of importance now. ...Again.” She looked confused at her own thoughts.

“Indeed.”

“I...”

Feeling the urgency in her heart, Iltier gazed at her hands, which were holding the small cup. The red drink was charming, with what looked like tiny red crystals, and the scent was sweet and alluring. Regardless, her heart was still heavy with everything that had happened.

And she was dead, she knew it. Should she say to him? What is this place to begin with? Who is he?

What is he?

"Killed myself?" He finished her sentence. Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes. The view of the garden until now was enough to bring out her curiosity, but his words came crashing down to remind her reality. Iltier looked at her left arm, and the six cufflinks on her sleeve brought distant memories. Her eyes were filled with tears. There was no physical pain in her body, and yet.

“Yes.” So he knew.

“Well, after what happened, I didn't expect much. ”

She chuckled. Such cruel words.
“Did you expect anything from me? ahaha... ”

“But to use the same sword.” Iltier looked at her side. The double-blade sword she used to kill on two occasions was there. It was a symbol of pride for the families of her mother and her father, but now all she could see was a piece of blue metal filled with innocent blood.

Their blood. And hers.

“Because it was...”

“ ‘Fair’, right?”