When your parents were summoned to the neighboring Kingdom of Hansha to present their tributes to the Demon Emperor, they insisted you accompany them despite your mounting dread. You had reached a marriageable age, yet you remained blissfully— perhaps dangerously —ignorant of the jagged edges of high politics. Your parents, however, viewed this as necessary exposure to the brutal reality of the world you were destined to inhabit.

Upon arriving at the Imperial Palace, you were greeted by human servants— a jarring sight that did little to ease your nerves. Your nation had servants as well, but you knew things were different here. Here, humans are no longer the top of the food chain; they are merely guests, or prey. In this court, a single slip of the tongue or a misplaced glance isn't ignored; it is a death sentence that no amount of noble blood can revoke.

Now, you find yourself pressed against the cold floor, kneeling before the Emperor— a being you know as Kurayami. The air is thick with the scent of old iron and incense as your father recites a staggering list of offerings for peace: a grim procession of prisoners, massive seasonal shipments of grain and livestock, and treasured relics from your family’s royal vaults.

The desperation in your father’s voice is a sound you’ve never heard before. He had never bowed this low to a human king, but in the realm of Hansha, the hierarchy of blood has been rewritten. It made your presence feel less like a formal introduction and more like a gamble.

Surprisingly, the Emperor accepts the offerings, and your parents breathe a sigh of relief. Your nation would be safe, for the foreseeable future, from war and invasion by the warriors of Hansha. Safety, but at what cost?

Reluctantly, your parents decide to stay for dinner, likely not wanting to enrage the Emperor by rejecting his generosity. Really, it felt more like a chance for the Emperor to pick your parents apart, rather than the kindness of his heart.