After Lea and Rowena helped me dress and taught me things I have to remember, we exchanged quiet goodbyes. I had no idea if I'd see them again, but they said I would be heading to the prince's palace, where women are rarely seen, so I guess I could not see them again.

My life was a mess. I'd just wanted to buy shoes, but now I was in a life-or-death situation, forced to disguise myself as a man and prepare to meet a prince who terrified me. What does he need from me anyway?

"Please come inside," a person who looked like a butler said, gesturing to a door that loomed with an ominous aura.

'My instinct is screaming at me to avoid this door but…' I took a deep breath and finally entered. Inside, the prince was sitting at his desk, discussing something with two people who looked like some kind of officials.

One of the attendants guided me to another room where I anxiously sat on one of the sofas. The room was luxurious, filled with gold-crafted ornaments, but I didn't have the guts to admire it. I was so nervous that it felt like my first CEO interview, except this time, my life was on the line.

My hands clutched to my double-layered clothes, my chest feeling both stifling and oddly secure. For someone who hates bras, this is so uncomfortable!

I automatically stood up when the prince entered the room, like a soldier meeting his superior. I couldn't believe my reaction just now.

"I believe I don't have to explain why you're here," the prince said upon entering and sit in front of me. I remained silent because I had no idea why.

'You better explain, I'm not a mind reader.' 

The prince waved his hand, signaling one of his attendants, who moved towards me and placed a decorative container in front of me. He then opened it to reveal what looked like an ancient scroll made of fabric cloth with a soft yet dry texture—something you'd expect to see in a museum. 

I blankly stared at the contents of the scroll, its mysterious symbols gazing back at me as the attendant carefully opened it and then left the room. 

What's this? A code? Sudoku? 

Panic seized me as I stared at the scroll—a chaotic mix of letters, symbols, and numbers. It was a cryptic puzzle, a blend of ancient and modern scripts that seemed impossible to unravel.

"This is a secret scroll that my historians have already decoded," the prince declared, his voice still cold and commanding. His eyes gleamed with a sinister intensity as he clasped his hands, leaning slightly forward, daring me to falter.

"I need to test your skill to see if your life is worth saving and if you possess what it takes to stand among them." 

'This is why they say it's not good to lie about your skills…' I scolded myself.

"Ha…Ha, this looks very... interesting," I stammered, cold sweat trickling down my spine.

"What will happen to me if I can't decode this... your Highness?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. 

"Death," the prince replied, his smile cruel and devoid of warmth.

The single word hung in the air, sharp as a blade, sending shivers down my spine. I internally cried out in despair. 

It's no use—I'll die here…

No!! Let's at least try to understand this. You can do it, girl! Think of it as a puzzle. 

Grabbing a quill and paper, I began scribbling anything that made sense, but nothing made any sense at all.

What should I do? The prince's piercing gaze bore into me, a silent, oppressive force that amplified the pressure tenfold. I can't help but restrain my movement and can't properly think. Desperation clawed at me.

"I'm sorry, but could you leave?" I blurted out, instantly regretting the informal tone. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I mean, would you kindly give me some space to think, Your Highness? I can't focus with you watching me so intently."

"…"

"Just a few minutes, please. If I haven't made any progress by then, you can do as you wish with me." I gripped the pen tightly, my breath hitching as I awaited his response.

"Very well," he said, his voice dripping with cold authority. I exhaled in relief, but before leaving, he placed an hourglass on the table, the sand already beginning to fall.

"I expect good results," he warned, before turning and exiting the room.

My heart raced as the sand slipped away. Panic clawed at me, but I forced myself to breathe, gripping the quill like a lifeline.

The scroll letters blurred to my eyes as I tried to focus, my hands shaking with every stroke of ink. Every passing second felt like a death sentence. The sand continued to fall down but I still don't know what I am doing. I tried to connect it to latitude or longitude but nothing worked. I also thought of the Da Vinci Code style but it's not it either or it's too soon for me to conclude. I don't really know. Just when I was about to give up, a glimmer—something that stood out amid the chaos of symbols and numbers.

The prince’s gaze was unrelenting, his expression unreadable as he dissected every detail. The silence grew thicker, like a weight pressing down, making it hard to breathe.

“Hmm…” he finally muttered, a soft, contemplative noise that seemed almost deafening in the stillness, amplifying the tension.

‘Great,’ I thought, stealing a nervous glance at the intimidating figure beside him. ‘He’s probably brought that warrior to finish me off. No use fretting now—I did what I could. Decoding those ancient symbols felt like trying to untangle a mess of angry snakes.’

‘If I must die, at least let it be after I’ve had a chance to wear my new shoes…’

“Life, Deep Sleep, and Overcome. Is this everything?” the prince’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and demanding.

“Uh, I apologize, sir— I mean, your highness. I had...limited time,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t betray the fear creeping up my spine.

“How long would it take you to decode all the symbols?” he asked, his tone sharp, cutting straight to the point.

“Well, it actually depends on—” I began, but he wasn’t interested in the details.

“I need an exact answer.”

The sudden clink of his sword against the chair made me jump. “A week?” I blurted out in a panic.

His brow shot up, eyes flashing dangerously. "A week? That fast?"

‘Wait, that’s fast? I almost said two or three days. Can I stretch this out?’

“Sorry, I misspoke—a year,” I quickly amended, praying he’d buy it.

“A year, hm? Perfect… for your head to be displayed at the gate.”

He unsheathed his sword, laying it on the table with a metallic clink that chilled me to the core.

‘Asshole.’

“I can sacrifice my sleep and decode the scripture in a few months, Your Highness!” I stammered, my corporate survival instincts kicking in, “I promise!”

The prince chuckled, low and chilling. “Now we’re talking. My historians have spent months on mere fragments, but you’ve done more in an hour. Impressive.”

“Uh… thank you?” I squeaked, trying to grasp what he’d just implied.

“Ethan, guide this little lark to the historians. They’ll be thrilled to have another head.” The prince waved me off like a bored tyrant, dismissing me as if I were nothing more than an amusing diversion. As Ethan led me out, I showered the prince with hollow thanks, all the while feeling dread coil tighter in my stomach.

As soon as the door closed behind me, reality hit like a wave, and I nearly collapsed, sliding to the cold floor, overwhelmed by rage and desperation. ‘That prince made a fool out of me, didn’t he?’ My fists clenched, and for a wild second, I imagined storming back in there and wiping that smug smirk off his face.

But reality bit hard—a single act of rebellion here wouldn’t end with anything but my head rolling. The fantasy faded, leaving only a bitter taste, and I clenched my teeth, feeling the weight of my own stupidity.

‘What kind of mess have I gotten myself into? I should have said a month or two!’ I want to slap myself. I’m such an idiot, I got so scared with those blades that I can't think straight.

“Are you alright, sire?” Ethan’s voice pulled me back, and I looked up at his concerned face.

‘Do I look alright? I’m stuck here, with my brand-new shoes lost, my belongings gone, and now I’m pretending to be some servant-scholar in a world I don’t even know where!’ I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to breathe as I wrestled down the frustration boiling up inside.

That prince started this, and I’d see to it that he’d regret it in time. If this world wants to play a game with me, bring it on! I’m not the type to back down without a fight.

With a shaky breath, I lifted my head and met Ethan’s gaze. “I’ll be fine,” I fibbed through clenched teeth, tasting the sharp bitterness of my own words. Just wait—I’ll find a way out of this and make you cry a river!

---

Inside the historians’ office, Ethan guided me in, and I was immediately greeted by the most cheerful man. “So, you’re the one? We’ve heard you can read and write ancient scripts. That’s extraordinary!”

'Wow, news travels fast!' I thought as I was greeted enthusiastically by a man who introduced himself as Leon, shortly after Ethan left. As I stepped further inside, something unusual caught my attention: all the men in the room were of slight build, much like my own. No wonder they weren't suspicious of me. Effeminacy was common here, I realized with relief.

I was staring at eight historian men before me, fresh from my unsettling encounter with the prince. However, only a few of them truly stood out to me, thanks to their striking looks—the rest were, well, just normal. Like a schoolgirl on her first day at a new school, I instinctively scanned the room for any dashing men, completely forgetting that I’d narrowly escaped disaster in the prince’s office earlier.

“Ah, no, not quite. I can only read and write a few languages, but not those ancient characters…” I quickly corrected him, trying to avoid confusion.

Leon greeted me with a smile that didn’t quite match the cold precision I expected from someone who’d been decoding texts for years. He was striking, sure, with those emerald green bright eyes and pink hair that caught the light—but it was his calm confidence that unnerved me more than anything else. I had the feeling this was a guy who rarely missed a detail.

“Still, I believe you’ll be a great asset to us. I heard you decoded words from a scroll in mere hours. That’s remarkable!”

If only you knew the pressure I was under. My thoughts flashed back to the prince’s sword, gleaming far too close. I almost wanted to strangle the man for bringing it all up again. But I only smiled.

All I wanted was a moment to rest, but Leon was so enthusiastic I didn’t even have a chance to sit. Just hours ago, I’d been in the throes of war, and now I was meeting historians who were apparently thrilled to have me. I tried to remember their names, but they flew right past me. I’m terrible at names anyway.

Leon introduced me to Rowell, even more timid than I was. With violet eyes and hair, he looked like a prince from a fairytale—almost too otherworldly for this grim reality.

Then there was Marco, dark and sharp-eyed, not the sort of man who’d lose sleep over a duel. Out of the eight historians, these three stood out. Whether that was a good thing or not, I hadn’t decided—especially with the memory of the prince’s gleaming sword still fresh in my mind.

The door opened again, and a group of warriors entered, led by a man who immediately commanded attention. His ash-blue hair was neatly combed, contrasting with his light eyes, which held a stern, icy gaze. His features were sharp, and the glasses perched on his nose only added to his no-nonsense air. With two warriors flanking him, it was clear he was someone who demanded respect without uttering a word.

The announcement of an expedition to retrieve an ancient text rolled off his tongue with the precision of someone who left no room for questions or doubts. All the historians lined up and bowed their heads, and I quickly followed suit, still haunted by the prince’s unsettling smile, it was not charming at all!

“Since we have acquired new talent capable of reading ancient texts more quickly, His Highness the Crown Prince wishes to seize this opportunity to retrieve the last ancient script. He expects the selected historians to decode the Arcanographica at a significantly faster rate. In return, he will assign a warrior to each historian for training and protection during the upcoming war.”

Is the prince obsessed with war or something? I thought bitterly. I just got off the battlefield, and now he’s all, ‘Let’s do another war, guys!’ I’m not your go-to warrior right now—I need a break, not another round of chaos.

"The historians chosen are... the little lark?"

“…”

I met the assistant’s eyes as he puzzled over the paper. “It seems this refers to you, new guy.”

That bastard. I felt my stomach drop. He picked me after all. And what’s with that creepy nickname?

“State your name, young man.”

"Uh, fuck." I was too flustered to respond right away. What is wrong with that prince? Is he really the lord of the underworld?

Realizing everyone was staring at me, I quickly snapped out of it. “What?” I asked, realizing the assistant was still waiting.

"Tuck. You can call me Tuck," I said, forcing a smile that definitely didn't make me look less like I was in pain.

"Alright, Tuk it is."

I blinked. "No, no, it's Tuck—T-U-C-K." I tried again, as if the universe had somehow skipped over that important detail.

“Right, Tuk it is.”

What the—what is wrong with this guy's tongue? Am I being punked right now? Fine. Whatever. It’s not like Tuck is even my real name, anyway.

“Along with Tuk, Leon, Rowell, and Marco will have assigned warriors and will accompany His Highness to retrieve the secret scroll. Be grateful for this honor and opportunity bestowed upon you by His Highness."

‘Grateful, my ass. Just let me rest!’