Chapter 7
Their safe house in the Eagle Kingdom’s capital wasn’t large, just enough for each pair to share a room.
Wakako shared a room with Lin Lin. Usually, she would fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but tonight, she tossed and turned, unable to rest. Across the small space between their beds, she saw Lin Lin’s back rising and falling gently, knowing that her junior sister was also awake.
“I’m sorry, Junior Sister,” she said, knowing she owed Lin Lin an apology. “I shouldn’t have let you retreat from the Eagle Kingdom’s palace on your own.”
Lin Lin turned over. “What would you do if it happened again?”
The question silenced Wakako. She knew that no matter how many times it happened, she would make the same choice.
Lin Lin probably guessed the answer, but at only fifteen, she couldn’t fully comprehend what her senior sister was thinking.
“Senior Sister, do you… like the Saint?” she asked.
Wakako paused, slowly burying her head in her blanket. After a moment, her muffled voice came through. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s the Saint. How could I be worthy?”
She was an orphan, a former servant. Her name shouldn’t even be mentioned in the same breath as the Saint.
“But you’re a Royal Mercenary…” The Royal Mercenaries were renowned throughout both Kingdoms, feared and respected for their countless military achievements.
Anyone would consider such a status to be incredibly prestigious.
Wakako remained silent for a moment. “You’re still young. You wouldn’t understand.”
Royal Mercenary or not, to Miki, she would always be that clumsy servant with nothing but brute strength. It was a fact ingrained in her very being.
She thought five years was enough time to straighten her back and face anyone as an equal.
But upon seeing Miki again, Wakako still felt like a dog greeting its master, wanting to be patted on the head, to hug Miki, to smell that long-lost scent.
If only she could be bold enough to do all those things. But without permission, she didn’t dare.
Miki probably thought she was pathetic.
But what could she do? It was an ingrained part of her.
Seeing that her senior sister didn’t want to talk, Lin Lin didn’t press further and turned back to sleep.
As the night deepened, Wakako finally drifted off to sleep. For the past few years, whenever she dreamed, it was always about Miki.
Tonight was no different.
***
In her dream, she returned to the past. She had been with the Saionji clan for about half a year and was lined up to receive her wages like the other servants.
The steward distributed the silver coins in small pouches, one by one. When he looked up and saw Wakako, he frowned. “There’s nothing for you.”
Wakako was taken aback, thinking he didn’t recognize her. “I’m the Saint’s guard.”
“Then you’re not a servant of our household.” The steward glared at her. “Since you’re from the Kitagawa clan, go ask them for your payment. Go on, go on, don’t interfere with our work.”
That’s not right, Wakako thought. That morning, Kyouka-mama, who oversaw rules and etiquette, had specifically reminded her to collect her wages. Kyouka-mama wouldn’t lie to her.
So she didn’t leave, stubbornly insisting, “There must be a mistake. I should have a share too.”
The steward reluctantly handed her a small pouch.
Only upon returning did Wakako realize she’d been tricked. The pouch didn’t contain silver coins, but stones.
She went back to confront the steward, but he refused to even look at her, claiming she was trying to be greedy.
They argued outside the courtyard. But Wakako was never good at arguing, and the steward was sharp-tongued, his words increasingly harsh.
“I told you, you’re an outsider. Why do you act like you belong to the Saionji clan? Is the Kitagawa clan so pitiful that they need us to support you?”
“You’re nothing but a stray dog we took in. Everything you have is thanks to the Saionji clan. You’d do well to remember that and keep your tail between your legs!”
“Once the Saint becomes Queen Consort, you’ll be kicked out sooner or later!”
The hostility others showed towards her wasn’t unfounded.
The more diligently Wakako served the Saint, the more it highlighted others’ negligence. The last time the family head noticed this, they were severely punished, which only fueled their resentment towards her.
The steward’s words pierced Wakako’s heart like daggers. She didn’t know which word stung the most, but before she could even process it, a retort escaped her lips:
“So what?”
Her chest heaved. “You think every servant in this house should bow like a dog? But I’m different. Even if I’m a dog, I’m the Saint’s dog, and hers alone. Who are you to judge someone who serves the Saint?”
Her sharp hearing picked up the near-silent sound of approaching footsteps. She turned around.
Standing barefoot on the high steps, draped in a white cloak, was the Saint, silently observing the scene.
Beside her stood a tall man, the head of the Saionji clan – Ichiro, the Saint’s cousin.
The steward hastily bowed. “Lady Saint, Master Ichiro.”
Wakako’s mind went blank. She forgot all decorum, only two words echoing in her thoughts: It’s over. She had completely forgotten that the Saint was meeting with the family head in his courtyard — and they had just spoken those disrespectful words right outside.
What should she do?
This was the only time she had ever dared to speak out of turn, and the Saint and the family head had heard everything. Would they be angry? Would they send her away?
Wakako saw Miki beckon her with a gentle gesture. “Come here,” she said softly.
Her mind still blank, Wakako slowly ascended the steps.
“Kneel.”
Wakako didn’t understand, but she obeyed.
With her head lowered, she couldn’t see the vibrant blush that crept onto Miki’s cheeks and the corners of her eyes, making her smile seem somewhat unusual.
A delicate hand landed on Wakako’s black hair, effortlessly undoing the servant’s hairstyle she had painstakingly mastered, then stroking it casually, as if playing with a small animal.
“Ichiro,” Miki said with a soft smile, “those puppies you found for me last time didn’t quite meet my expectations.”
Her hand moved from the back of Wakako’s head to her neck, making her feel ticklish, but she didn’t dare to move.
Master Ichiro hummed in response. “I’ll have someone keep an eye out for more.”
“No need,” Miki said.
She leaned down slightly, her finger tracing the contours of Wakako’s face, finally resting lightly on her lips.
“I’ve already found one.”
***
After that, Wakako never saw those who had tormented her again. She didn’t know where they had gone.
She only knew that Miki had someone bring a whole sack of gold coins and told her to take as much as she needed. To buy food, clothes, anything she wanted.
“No, no,” Wakako had never seen so much money in her life. She waved her hands in a panic, refusing the offer. “Being able to serve the Saint is enough for me.”
A look of confusion crossed Miki’s face. “Didn’t you just say you were mine? If you’re mine, then it’s my responsibility to provide for you.”
She lowered her head, lost in thought.
“Even ordinary people spend money to care for their dogs. Are you worried that it’s not enough? I can have someone bring more.”
“Of course not,” Wakako blurted out. “It’s just… I spoke nonsense in the heat of the moment. I was afraid the Lady Saint would be angry if she heard it.”
Now Miki was the one who looked angry, her expression suddenly turning cold.
“Spoke nonsense in the heat of the moment?” she repeated softly. “You didn’t mean it?”
Wakako knelt, refilling Miki’s teacup, then bowed deeply.
“I meant it,” she murmured, “It’s just that my status is so low, I’m not worthy…”
Before she could finish, Wakako was enveloped in a soft embrace. The white cloak, exclusive to the Saint, wrapped tightly around her as well.
The familiar scent filled her senses.
“Everything here, from the grass to the trees, belongs to the Saionji clan. They provide it all — even the family head finds little puppies for me. But I want something that’s mine alone. Just one thing would be enough.”
Miki lowered her head, breathing in the scent of Wakako’s black hair as she spoke in a low, sultry voice.
“I choose you, is that alright?”
Wakako felt that the Saint was different somehow, but kneeling as she was, she didn’t dare lift her head to see Miki’s expression. She hesitated, unable to understand Miki’s meaning.
What could the Saint possibly desire that she couldn’t have? Didn’t everything the clan provided belong to her? The servants, the guards, the gold, the silver, the treasures – weren’t they all hers?
But even with her limited understanding, she knew the answer Miki wanted to hear.
“Yes,” Wakako said.
The dream ended there.
Upon waking, everything dissolved into nothingness, leaving Wakako staring at the unfamiliar surroundings, feeling a profound sense of loss.
***
She wasn’t the only one dreaming of the past. Within the Eagle Kingdom’s royal palace, someone suddenly awoke with a gasp, sitting up in bed, her breath coming in ragged bursts.
“Lady Saint,” the servant by the bedside promptly offered a clean handkerchief. “I’ll prepare hot water for you.”
The servants all knew this was the Saint’s chronic ailment – her sleep was always restless and fragmented.
The Saint was very particular. She disliked being touched, yet she had exceptionally high standards of cleanliness, requiring a bath after the slightest exertion.
The bath was already filled with hot water. Miki, supporting her weary body, bathed alone for a while before hearing the servant’s clear announcement from outside the door: “Lady Saint, Lord Saburo wishes to see you.”
“Tell him to wait.”
The servant’s heart pounded with fear upon hearing those cold words. She was just a lowly servant, relaying a message. What if she offended Lord Saburo?
Fortunately, Lord Saburo wasn’t angry. He patiently waited in the front hall.
By the time the Saint had finished bathing and her thick black hair had been meticulously dried by the servants, the sky was bright, and it was time for breakfast.
Saburo Saionji had been sitting on the cold bench for quite some time.
The Saint’s residence was heated more than any other place in the palace, yet Miki was still wrapped in a large white cloak that practically engulfed her entire body, obscuring half of her porcelain-like face.
She leaned back in the armchair, her eyes downcast, not even glancing at the person before her.
Saburo turned to the others and instructed, “Leave us.”
He was an Omega with looks that could barely be called handsome, far inferior to the exquisitely beautiful Saint. But due to their blood relation, there was some similarity in their features.
“I did you a huge favor. What’s with this attitude?” Saburo asked with a smile.
Miki ignored him.
Saburo sighed. “You’ve been gloomy ever since seeing your little guard. Did she upset you?”
He knew how to provoke Miki, and as expected, she lifted her head slightly, giving him an icy glare.
Saburo continued, “If I hadn’t gotten her out of the palace, she would have been caught. You know how much the King fears the mercenaries, right? They would have skinned her alive. What was her name again? Wakako, wasn’t it…”
A teacup shattered on the floor, interrupting his words.
Miki’s chest heaved slightly as she picked up a shard from the ground. Her skin was as thin as a cicada’s wing, and as her fingertip brushed against the sharp edge, blood quickly seeped out, staining her snow-white sleeve with specks of red.
Saburo’s face changed, watching her in stunned silence.
“Don’t mention her,” Miki said calmly. “You think I don’t know? You were the one who spread the rumors and used Camus to lure her here. What are you trying to do? Threaten me with her, is that it?”
The fact that Camus had a portrait of her was undoubtedly Saburo’s doing.
He panicked. “Miki, put down the shard. You’ll faint if you keep bleeding…”
Miki swayed on her feet, but her grip on the shard tightened. Her voice was barely audible, yet it reached Saburo’s ears clearly.
“Who do you think you are?” A sarcastic smile appeared on her face. “A bastard with impure blood, daring to call the Saint by name?”
Saburo’s face alternated between pale and flushed.
His parents were not a legitimate couple; he was born out of an illicit affair. He had been treated little better than a servant throughout his childhood at the Saionji estate, a fact that had always been a source of deep pain.
He had betrayed his family to the enemy kingdom in pursuit of glory, and now, as a favored individual in the king’s court, he still couldn’t escape the shadow of his “impure blood.”
Although he was the Saint’s cousin by blood, according to tradition, he was indeed forbidden from addressing her by name.
Miki tossed the shard aside, indifferent to the depth of the wound on her hand. “So stop playing these pathetic games.”
She tilted her head slightly, her clear black and white eyes fixed on him. “If anything happens to Wakako, none of you will survive. Do you understand?”
Saburo finally stormed off, his face dark with anger.
The servants outside rushed in, tending to the Saint’s wound, applying medicine and bandages. A dozen people bustled around her, their attention focused solely on her.
Miki sat in the armchair, allowing them to fuss over her, but her gaze drifted past them, towards the world beyond the palace walls.
It was a bright, sunny day.
She longed to go for a walk, but the sight of dozens of guards stationed outside her residence made her stomach churn.
It had been the same at the Saionji estate. Wherever she went, she was watched and followed, as if they feared she would disappear from their sight. She rarely had the freedom to be alone.
Now, trapped within the Eagle Kingdom’s royal palace, it was even worse. And with her frail health, she could barely walk a few steps without feeling breathless, let alone escape.
Miki suddenly recalled an afternoon ten years ago, when she had finally managed to sneak out of the Saionji estate to see the lake. But she had exhausted herself and couldn’t even stand.
She had rested on the back of that dirty girl with round dimples when she smiled. The girl had rambled about trivial matters, silly and uninteresting, but Miki had listened attentively to it all.
Such precious moments, like a fleeting glimpse of a passing cloud, had vanished in an instant.
