"An impressive feat, General Helion. You've once again proven yourself worthy of your new title."

"You flatter me, Your Imperial Majesty. But I believe that if His Highness, the Prince, joined us, we could have accomplished even more."

Voices echo around me. The temptation to look up is strong, but fear keeps my gaze locked on the ground. We’ve been forced to kneel, hands bound behind our backs, and my legs are numb from staying in this position for too long. Meanwhile, the armored men talk among themselves, full of pride.

Despite my fear, a strange excitement stirs within me. A real king and prince high figures I’ve only read about in fantasy novels—are right here. In front of me!

"That can't be helped. Well, let's see what kind of slaves you've brought this time."

"Of course, Your Majesty. Allow me to present them—strong and fortunate knights to serve you."

One by one, the warriors are shown off like trophies. They barely glance at us before moving on. A quick look around tells me how hopeless our situation is. We’re completely surrounded by well-armed soldiers, each radiating an air of power. Just imagining what a single flick from them on my forehead could do makes me shudder.

"Like hell, we'll serve you! We are proud knights of the Aldo Kingdom! We kneel to no one but our king!" a man beside me shouts, his voice defiant as he struggles against his captors.

Whoa! That takes guts. It’s like watching a dramatic scene in a movie. But… why am I kneeling with them?

"We'd rather die than obey a tyrant like you!" another man roars. The prisoners resist, but their rebellion is short-lived. They are swiftly beaten down, some forced to bow as blood drips from their wounds.

Their courage is admirable, but my survival instinct tells me to stay quiet. If I get a chance to escape, I’ll need all my strength. Unfortunately, my silence doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, it catches the king’s attention.

"I like their spirit. Training them will be enjoyable. But that one… he looks weak."

A shiver runs down my spine. I don’t need to look up to know he’s talking about me.

"Show me its face," the king commands.

A warrior grips my chin and forces my head up. I take in the sight before me: two thrones at different heights. An older man, likely the king, sits at the highest, his long sword standing beside him, a clear symbol of his authority. Below him sits a younger man, lounging in a more modest chair, looking completely uninterested.

But the moment our eyes meet, a shiver runs down my spine.

That must be the prince.

His long black hair cascades neatly as he leans into the armrest of his chair, framing his warm-toned skin. Golden eyes—sharp, calculating—peer at me from beneath thick brows, one of which is marked by a scar. It doesn’t make him any less handsome. If anything, it adds to his presence.

Oh, God. He looks like a prince from the underworld—but damn, he looks good. Ahem!

But that gaze—it’s the kind that makes your nerves twist. I quickly averted my eyes, only for something even more unsettling to catch my attention.

Two women stand beside the thrones, draped in lavish outfits, golden chains trailing from their necks to their feet. Their faces are half-covered, their expressions unreadable. But their eyes… those empty, lifeless eyes make my stomach churn.

What kind of place is this? A cold dread settles over me. If I don’t find a way out, will that be my fate too?

"Hmm… He doesn't look great either," the king mutters.

Excuse me?!

“I don’t need that one. Kill him,” the king commands, waving his hand dismissively, as if ordering my execution is no different from discarding an old rag.

What?! Ha! This triple M. I might look disheveled now, but I'm confident in my looks. I'm pretty enough to be courted by multiple men!

(AN: Triple M means Matandang, Mayaman madaling, Mamatay. In English: Stinky rich old man who are bound to die due to their age.)

"Wa…wait, wait!" My panic kicks in. I had a lot to say to that old man, but more urgently, if they take me away, I’m dead for sure. Through the open golden doors behind my back, I can almost feel the ominous aura of my impending doom.

"I’m not one of them! I’m not a warrior or a knight or anything!" I yell, struggling against the hands dragging me away. "I was just a normal citizen—No, I was a HOSTAGE!!" 

The prince raises a hand, and the guards stop.

“Is that true?” His voice is smooth, but there’s something behind it. A curiosity? I can’t tell. He’s not looking at me—he’s questioning the captured knights. But before they can respond, I blurt out, "T-They wouldn’t know! I was held in secret. I escaped, but I climbed onto the wrong cart—a war cart full of weapons! That’s how I got caught up in all this!"

Oh god, what am I even saying? But they’re listening, so I might as well keep going. What more can I do to survive? Should I say I can dance? Sing?

The prince watches me, his golden eyes glinting with interest. He tilts his head slightly, fingers tapping lazily against the armrest. It’s a casual gesture, but something about it is dangerous.

"That's a lie! Our kingdom would never hold a citizen captive!" one of the knights hissed.

Sorry, but I'm not dying for your kingdom!

"Do you know who took you?" the prince asked. I took a big gulp, preparing to lie through my teeth. "I was held captive by what they called a general. I managed to escape, but I had no idea the cart I climbed onto was headed to war. I mean, think about it, what could a small person like me even do there?" I finished with a pleading look, hoping it was enough to keep my head on my shoulders.

'Oh god! I hope their general's not here, and let him be dead too, please.' I silently prayed

“You survived among knights and warriors… even in the middle of battle. That’s impressive.”

Uh-oh. That logic makes me look even more suspicious.

"T-That’s because I hid among the bodies until I passed out!"

Technically true. No one stays sane after seeing a severed head roll right in front of them.

"Then why would a general take you hostage?"

"That's because…"

I HAVE NO IDEA!!!  Think, think, think! What would make a good answer? There was no way that bored face would care about modern dance or songs.

I glance around the room, my eyes landing on ancient carvings along the stone pillars. Numbers… letters…

"I-I can read and write different languages!" I blurt out, eyes closed. Please let this work!

I felt the air thicken as gasps echoed around me, following what I had impulsively blurted out, and when I dared to open my eyes, I saw that my words had captured everyone's attention.

I clung to the memory of an ancient stone I'd seen earlier, its surface carved with intricate symbols that looked like a hybrid of Egyptian hieroglyphs and some unknown language that looks like numbers.

“Prove it.”

The prince’s golden eyes narrowed slightly. His lips curl—not in a smile, but something close. A smirk that never quite reaches his eyes.

He rises from his seat, dark hair flowing around him, framing a face that now glistens with interest.

Oh, crap. How do I prove something I just made up?!

My pulse thundered in my ears. Think, or your neck will meet the blade! 

As I glance up at the prince approaching me, the guard’s firm grip forces me to bow. A sudden, rough smack sends a sharp throb through my skull.

The metallic scent of blood fills my nostrils, sharp and suffocating. Pain pulses from the fresh wound on my head—a cruel reminder of my situation—but it ignites something reckless in me.

My pulse pounds. A wild, desperate thought takes shape.

With trembling fingers, I dip into the blood pooling on the floor and begin to scribble:

Scribble: +AnHG!nHanNg# buUh#@yY TtO mMam4+AayY nNa B@ Kk()?

Translate: F*** this life, am I going to die?

I must be insane! The last time I'd used Jejemon was back in high school, scribbling notes in what could only be called the world's ugliest code. But there was no time to second-guess myself.

My mind clung to one thought: Jejemon or death.

As my fingers press into the blood on the ground, its cool, slick texture grounds me in the chaos. A silent prayer flickers through my mind—may my long-forgotten Jeje days serve me well.

Then—

“Your Majesty, I will take this man.”

I freeze.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared up at the prince. He leans down, golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable, his lips curling into a menacing smile.

Wait… WHAT?! Did it actually work?!

Confusion knots in my gut as orders are given to escort me away, but I can’t tear my gaze from the prince.

I should feel relieved. But all I can grasp is the sinking realization that I may have just walked into something far more dangerous.

Still, as the distance between them and me grows, a wave of relief crashes over me. Somehow, my desperate scribbling worked.

For the first time in years, I feel genuine gratitude—for those ridiculous, bygone Jejemon days.

I’ll figure out how to fix things later.

Right now, all that matters is one thing:

I survived today.

⚠️⚠️This image is for Visual Purposes Only⚠️⚠️