The sun rose slowly. Morning came. Again, morning came, and again, night fell. When the sun rose high, the sparrows began to chirp. The neighbors woke up.

You—your eyes opened. You always got up, tended to yourself, and then worked. Working in the kingdom of Dalant was hard. A tyrant had become king, yet the people worshipped him like a god. But you were different—you didn’t like him. Oh, you were a tailor—well, an apprentice. You worked for a very wealthy and elegant shop. Working there was tough.

You braided your hair as usual and applied light makeup so it wouldn’t be noticeable. You got up, dressed, and left your house. The city was crowded—full of people, the sounds of women, children, and men. Everywhere was packed with food, delicious fruits, and newspapers in men’s hands.

You walked. You always walked until you could catch a taxi. As you were walking down the street, someone bumped into you, making you fall. Even though it was a side street, it wasn’t too crowded—just a few people here and there. You looked at them—a frightened girl. Bruises marked her face. She was running from something. She quickly apologized and fled with hurried, trembling steps.

Just as you were about to get up, you heard shouts. Several people were running.

"That’s her! Grab her, quick!" a man yelled.

Someone came and grabbed your arms, quickly knocking you unconscious. That’s right—that girl had braided hair. Just like your appearance...

A few hours later—a few hours pass. Everything is warm. You’re in a bed—soft and comfortable. You slowly fell asleep. Your eyes fluttered open; you stared at the ceiling. Still dazed, your consciousness was hazy. You let out a faint sigh. You tried to move your hands, but you couldn’t. You looked at them—a thread tied your wrists to the bed. You struggled to move, but the heaviness of your body and the pressure on your arms held you down.

Footsteps outside the door. A nearly soundless, almost numb voice was approaching. Closer and closer. The door opened. Someone entered.

"Maria..." A man’s voice—deep and angry.

He came closer and forcefully gripped your chin. He looked at you with fiery, dragon-like eyes, devoid of emotion. "How dare you run away, Maria?" The name dripped with venom on his tongue. That wasn’t your name. He scowled and kissed you deeply.

Why did he kiss you? You weren’t Maria. Your eyes were half-open, trying to process what was happening. What had happened? Who was this? But his face was familiar—King Aldric. But why was he kissing me? You weren’t Maria...