Zjjan Master

Princess Vilyarin

Grayish white fogs are hovering on the surrounding, though it in shadows beyond Raume's vision. His words echo to his head slowly.

Did I die? I'm a failure after all. I wish I was born as a villager not a majestic.

Something flows from his eyes but unlike the tears these are much slower, and they are rough when they dry after they have tracked on his cheeks.

I'd thrown away everything I have; my dreams, my happiness, my romance, and even my whole life, just to serve my people, the kingdom left by my father and mother. But, how cruel it is, when they to whom my pledge, loyalty and service given, will against me, my sister, the tower, the throne. What have I lack? Is it the knowledge not knowing what behinds the unknown?

He walks not cognizing the surroundings and his head bumps— "Ouch! Ooh, ooh, sh*t…" —to a wall.

"Who's there?" has yelled by a female.

He's flustered. His body is shaken. And he somehow recognizes that voice.

Hurriedly flapping his hand anywhere onto the wall while he's hearing the clashing and splashing of water and the footsteps from someone who begins walking. Hasten, seeking something that his instinct is telling him to locate. As he feels the footsteps, approaching; he leans at the walls while he's staring at the shadow of a woman.

"Sis, it's me." —shivering.

The shadow swings its hand from its left to right, ordering the fogs to moves, giving them a sight to each other. He covers his eyes, about-face, and he leans his palm to the wall.

"I've never thought you've try peeking on me," Jesifer has said. She smiles, while she's walking heading near, making her brother trembles more. She hugs him from behind. Her chin lying to his shoulder as her cheek leaning to his cheek, making this young prince nosebleeds and his nose root numbs heavy. "Come. Let's bath together, just like we used to, when we were still young… when they were still alive."

Those words are digging and open the wound on his chest. Unexpectedly he feels something flowing as it has tracked on her cheek, the same as what flows from his eyes.

"Sis, stop!" He removes her arms from clinging and he establishes a distance from her. He moves to the side to take a glimpse at her eyes. —So dark, deeply pure black. And bloods are flowing from the corners of her eyes. "What's happening?"

The queen shrinks suddenly a little and her face is deforming to a bit identical. Her hair turns curl however still black. Her voice becomes different as she speaks. And her facial becomes stricter. She smiles at the idled Ruame. She pushes his shoulder as she presses him at the wall. Her hand goes inside his chest.

The prince is powerless to resist rather than he is helplessly watching every event rendering to his eyes.

She draws out her hand and shows him something above her palm—it's still beating. She speaks near his ear, "Anyone that stomp or damage the will of this. I'll hunt them until to the bottom of the hell after I'll awaken, and they all perish, slowly, being tormented."


Is dream actually real, or not?

Is our life is just a whole dream?

Or dreams are merrily scapegoats.