chapter 21
Guinevere: "You may have no choice. The ceremony… it could start tonight."
A shiver ran through the Princess—not from fear, but from frustration and the ache she tried to hide.
Behind her, John lingered in the shadows, unseen, his chest tight with a quiet ache, his heart full of unspoken words. In that moment, the weight of misunderstanding, timing, and unspoken love settled over them all—a precipice on the edge of hope and despair.
As they stepped back toward the palace, the night seemed heavier, the tension between duty and desire coiling tighter around the Princess's heart.
Marco vs the Giant
Marco lunged again, using the momentum to strike precisely at the monster's knee. The rock cracked slightly, but the creature was relentless. Marco stumbled, his body screaming, yet he gritted his teeth.
A deep rumble echoed through the cavern—not from the giant, but from somewhere behind the shadows. Dust shifted along the cavern walls, and a sudden gust of wind swept through, carrying the faint scent of burning iron.
From the darkness, a figure emerged, hair like a blazing inferno catching the flickering light of the cavern. Red strands whipped across his face, his eyes sharp and calculating, glowing with an intensity that seemed to rival the monster itself.
He whistled lazily, hands tucked into his pockets, tilting his head as he surveyed the chaos.
Red-haired man (smirking, almost bored):
"Huh… what's going on here? Looks… interesting."
He circled the fighting pair like a predator sizing up a distant storm, leaning casually against a jagged rock. The red streaks of his hair caught the flicker of falling sparks, glinting like fire.
Red-haired man (shrugging):
"Eh… nah. Not really my problem."
But before he could step away, the giant's massive head twisted with terrifying speed, its stone fists swinging in his direction. The first strike slammed into the cavern wall inches from him, sending shards of rock spraying.
The red-haired man's eyes widened—just slightly—before he dropped into a low crouch, one hand brushing the cavern floor. He smirked again, this time sharper, teeth glinting.
Red-haired man (grinning):
"Okay… now it's my problem."
Soldier's Tent
The canvas of the soldier's tent flapped softly in the night breeze. Inside, the dim glow of a lantern cast long, wavering shadows across rough wooden cots and scattered packs of gear.
John lay on his cot, his armor still strapped loosely around his shoulders, his boots kicked off haphazardly. His chest felt hollow, as if the world inside him had been stripped bare.
The faint smell of sweat, leather, and the lingering dust of the battlefield pressed against him, but he barely noticed. His mind replayed the day like a relentless drumbeat: the princess's polite smile, the prince at her side, the applause, the engagement… the world celebrating while he felt nothing but emptiness.
John (thinking, low, bitter):
Was it… a rejection? Did I… cross a line today? Did I push too far?
He pressed his hands against his face, rubbing his eyes, but it didn't help. The ache in his chest spread outward, through his stomach, his arms, even his legs. It was as if his entire body mourned a loss that had no name.
John (thinking, raw, trembling):
Was I too late? Did it end before I even had a chance?
His fingers gripped the edge of the cot so tightly that his nails bit into the wood. The hollow inside him widened, threatening to swallow everything—hope, pride, even the faint spark of courage that had kept him alive through battles.
The soft flap of the canvas in the wind, the distant crackle of a fire, and the low murmur of soldiers in other tents—it all seemed alien, foreign.
He let himself sink fully into the despair, letting the hollow ache consume him.
The world outside his small tent continued on, filled with warmth and light, while John remained trapped in the cold, quiet darkness of his own heartbreak.
Ballroom_
The grand hall shimmered under golden chandeliers, their warm light cascading across polished marble floors and crystal goblets. Silk gowns rustled softly as nobles whispered among themselves, their voices blending into a quiet wave of anticipation. Every eye occasionally drifted toward the massive palace doors.
At the far end of the hall, the prince stood tall and unmoving. His posture was perfect, regal as expected of him, yet a faint tension rested in his shoulders. His eyes remained fixed on the heavy doors as if willing them to open.
Time stretched.
The murmurs of the crowd grew slightly louder, curiosity mixing with impatience.
Then finally—
The doors creaked open.
All conversation died instantly.
The princess stepped inside.
The prince's eyes sharpened. He walked toward her, his expression tightening.
Prince (angry, frustrated):"Where were you?… You just disappeared. Where were you?"
The words were controlled, but the irritation beneath them was impossible to miss.
The princess looked slightly startled by his tone. She lowered her gaze for a moment before answering.
Princess (slightly flustered):"Sorry for the delay… I was here for a little work, actually."
The prince frowned faintly.
Prince (raising an eyebrow):
"What work?"
The princess hesitated. She avoided his eyes.
Before the silence could grow heavier, Guinevere stepped forward calmly.
Guinevere:"Some kingdom work, actually. I don't think it's a matter to discuss at this moment. The engagement… is waiting, right?"
The prince exhaled slowly through his nose, clearly displeased but unwilling to argue further in front of the entire court.
Prince (coldly):"Yes… everyone is waiting."
Suddenly the weight of hundreds of watching eyes felt unbearable.
She forced a polite smile onto her lips as the prince offered his arm.
Together, they began walking down the long aisle toward the ceremonial dais.
Each step echoed through the vast hall.
Whispers rippled quietly through the gathered nobles, their curious gazes following the royal couple.
Her expression remained serene and composed. Yet beneath that calm exterior, her heart pounded violently against her ribs.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
Princess (thinking):Was he really telling the truth…? John, were you really serious? What's really going on in your head, John…?
They finally reached the dais where the officiant stood waiting.
For a brief second, the princess hesitated.
Pause.
Princess (thinking):Even though this won't last long… why still can't my heart accept it…?
Just a second.
Barely noticeable.
Then she slowly extended her hand.
The ring slid onto her finger.
A small memory echoed in the princess's mind.
Princess: "You're impossible."
John: "Maybe. But I'm honest."
She looked away, cheeks warming again.
John: "I'm not asking for anything. I just… needed you to know."
The crowd erupted into applause.
The princess came back to her senses again.
Cheers filled the hall as nobles stood and clapped enthusiastically. Smiles lit every face around them.
But the princess's heart felt strangely empty.
She smiled—not because she wanted to, but because she had to.
Outside the palace windows—
The sky suddenly exploded with light.
Fireworks burst across the night sky in brilliant reds, golds, and deep blues, illuminating the palace gardens below.
Soldier's Tent_
As John saw the fireworks through the window, something inside him felt painfully hollow.
The fireworks burst again overhead, brilliant and loud, painting the sky with dazzling colors.
Yet all John felt was silence.
A quiet, unbearable emptiness spreading through his chest.
...CHAPTER 21ENDS...