CH 3

The Emperor had a bad habit of taking out his stress on the weak.

While the timid Empress was alive, he kept this habit in check, but it resurfaced immediately after her death.

The matter with Xieman was also a result of one of his stress explosions, encouraged by the greedy nobles around him.

Succumbing to the whispers of the nobles who were busy filling their own bellies, the Emperor of Roshan provoked a sleeping beast and suffered a humiliating defeat.

Roshan conscripted its citizens for the war. Among them were those who joined the army just to avoid starving to death.

However, they had no patriotism to protect the country, only a desire to survive, and their nutritional status was poor.

As a result, they all lost limbs, lives, and died in vain.

With the treasury emptied by the war’s defeat, it was certain that taxes would increase.

It was obvious that the remaining citizens would also die off.

With almost only children, the elderly, or the sick left, it was only a matter of time before the country fell.

Nisha was never treated as royalty, but she always felt indebted to the people.

No matter how much they scorned her as the sewer-rat princess, while they fought and died, she was safe within the imperial palace.

So she secretly took clothes, jewelry, and decorations from the palace, and stole rotting food to distribute secretly.

So her clothes were always shabby and plain.

“Didn’t they say the delegation from Xieman is coming tomorrow?”

Nisha, who had been lost in thought with her face buried in the pillow, suddenly muttered softly.

Then, instinctively, she realized that the time had come to act on something she had always thought about.

“Let’s escape.”

When the delegation arrived tomorrow, the surveillance in the imperial palace would become even tighter, and she would lose her freedom.

So today, when the entire palace was in chaos, was her only chance.

There were no maids assigned to watch over her, indicating that the entire palace staff had been mobilized for the visit of the cruel invaders.

It made sense; the Roshan Empire was now essentially a vassal state and had to welcome their masters without a single flaw.

‘This will be the last red night….’

Nisha muttered softly as she curled up, clutching the sheets as another bout of coughing began.

As she lay dazed under the blanket, the sun gradually set, and night fell.

Once it was dark, Nisha took advantage of the guards’ brief rest to gather supplies from the food storehouse and hide them deeper in the bushes.

‘Since this is the last time, I should take as much as possible….’

She had thought about escaping many times.

Countless plans had formed and faded in her mind.

But what held her back was the thought of the imperial citizens who would remain in hell if she left.

Nisha was not a great champion of justice, but she knew the agony of hunger.

Though she lacked the courage to stand up and advocate for her situation, she knew what it felt like to be on the brink of death.

Because of this knowledge, and her feeble conscience, she couldn’t leave.

But if today was to be the last of everything, then today was her chance.

‘Tonight is also the night of the red moon….’

Returning to her room, Nisha checked the time and quietly took a small white vial from her nightstand drawer.

When she tilted the bottle over her palm, white pills tumbled out.

She grabbed a handful without counting, and with a detached expression, she swallowed them, gulping down water from the kettle before lying down on her bed.

Soon, her body began to convulse violently.

Her pupils dilated as she clutched her chest, groaning in pain. The spasms gradually subsided until her hand fell limply off the bed.

The small room quickly lost its warmth, turning cold in an instant.

An eerie silence fell over the room, with not even the sound of breathing to break it.

Diiiing— Doooong—.

How much time had passed?

As the bell marking midnight rang, Nisha’s fingers twitched.

Not long after, her faint breaths began to break the stillness that had filled the chilly room.

Nisha, with her pale face, sat up on the bed like a doll, her expression vacant.

“… A promise.”

As if nothing had happened, she rose and prepared for her outing with practiced familiarity. In the stillness of the early dawn, accompanied only by the sounds of insects, she quietly left the eerie palace.

Knock-knock, knock, knock-knock-.

She tapped five times in rhythm on a small side door hidden in a corner of the imperial palace. This was the secret signal between Nisha and the servants who helped her.

Soon, the door opened.

“Mary.”

“Princess, you’re here? Mesh and Rad have taken the supplies to the place.”

“Yes, let’s go.”

Once the two figures, cloaked in their robes, vanished, the guards appeared as if nothing had happened and resumed their posts.

It was a quiet night escape.

***

“Has she gone?”

“Yes.”

The guards at the side door glanced at the two receding figures and whispered softly.

“It’s been ten years since I first saw the young princess here… She’s grown up so steadfastly despite the difficult circumstances.”

“Indeed. Did you hear about the diplomatic marriage between the princess and the lord of Xieman?”

“They call it a diplomatic marriage, but it’s no different from being a hostage, is it?”

The grumbling voices were filled with dissatisfaction.

“Poor thing.”

Shaking their heads and muttering in a sigh, they quickly fell silent, fearing someone might hear.

Most of the soldiers of the Roshan Empire had families. They lived in the capital, in the countryside, and everywhere in between within the Roshan Empire.

But all those families were struggling. With taxes rising daily and public sentiment growing increasingly hostile, bandits and thieves were on the rise.

The powerless were constantly exploited, robbed, and killed.

Those working in the imperial palace and their families were only slightly better off than those starving outside.

Just this year, even their meager wages had been further reduced by new taxes.

Banquets are held almost daily in the imperial palace, food prepared without purpose and discarded, rotting food used as fodder for cows and horses.

The nation’s decay from its roots wasn’t a recent development.

They endured the sight of dying citizens and the ever-thickening bellies of the nobles.

The middle-aged soldier still remembered the ten-year-old girl sneaking out late at night, carrying a small bundle of food she was allotted.

And that this had been happening regularly for the past ten years, up to this very day.

“I hope she gets far away.”

The soldier, now unable to see any trace of her, murmured softly.

“Hey, it’s almost the Red Night. Let’s lock up and head inside.”

“Ah, right.”

The middle-aged soldier pretended to lock the door but left it unlocked, worried that the princess might return.

Shortly after they retreated to their quarters, a red moon rose in the sky.

This was the so-called Red Night.

In Roshan, uniquely, once a month instead of a new moon, a blood-red moon appeared, as if soaked in blood.

With rumors of demons descending, it was considered the most ominous day in Roshan, and no one ventured outside under the red moon.

An old legend deeply rooted in the empire claimed that being touched by the red moonlight would bring misfortune, loss of wealth and honor, and even death.

So, up until a few decades ago, on the day of the red moon, every citizen of the empire would lock their doors, draw their curtains, and let no light in.

But now, with the struggle to survive and avoid starvation, only the nobles and royalty regarded it as a day of caution.

In recent years, the Red Night had become a day eagerly awaited for by the starving people in the capital.

This was because of a certain noble who only appeared on Red Nights.

Distributing food and money, even performing miracles by curing illnesses and bestowing blessings—

The Saint of the Red Moon.

And the middle-aged soldier knew.

He knew that this saint was the last remaining conscience and beacon of hope for this nation, yet within the imperial palace, she was scorned as the sewer-rat princess, the most wretched of all.

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