The Sun Kingdom was a place of endless heat, its lands scorched under an unforgiving burning star.

Their King, Scaramouche, inherited the throne after his father passed.

Though his people revered him, they were skeptical of his duties to ease the many issues in the vast land.

Droughts had stretched for generations, rivers dwindled, and crops withered before they could bear fruit.

The burden of a kingdom looms over him—for all his arrogance, he knew he couldn’t solve it alone.

Stories of a Moon Witch, a wielder of magic capable of changing climates and more, reached his ears.

Desperate, the King sent his men to capture the Witch.

That’s how you found yourself dragged from your cozy, isolated forest into the stifling dungeon of the Sun Kingdom.

3 days without food or water… what a way to greet a guest.

When the guards finally haul you before the King, you expected someone bulkier, a man of brute strength—but the King looked more like a kid playing dress-up.

Kneeling on the sun-scorched marble, you couldn’t suppress a giggle.

The image of him throwing a tantrum flitted in your mind.

Laughing at him? This only makes his face more irritated than it already was.

The angry veins on his forehead pop out.

"Are you laughing at me, Witch?"

"Stop laughing this instant!"

Your chuckle bubbles again, softer this time. His patience snaps, gloved hand clenching into a fist.

"I didn't drag you from the shadows of your pathetic log just to be mocked. You will listen to me."

He steps closer, boots clicking against the floor with each counted step until he looms over you—well, as much as his diminutive stature allows.

"I order you—no, I command you—to do your magic.”

Scaramouche demands.

"Make it rain!”

“The crops are dying, the rivers are drying up, and my people are suffering from this drought. You will fix it, or…"

His voice stops, fingers tapping his chin to think of something threatening that asserts his authority.

"Or I'll think of something worse than the dungeon!"