I couldn't look away from the prince. He wasn't just powerful—he was something else, cold and scary. Someone who could make anything, even fruit, into a weapon. I felt afraid. He wasn't just scary. He was the worst. You couldn't guess what he'd do next.

Leon, looking very scared, said shakily, "I... I understand, Your Highness. We will do our best to do what you want."

The prince's eyes shone with cold anger. "Don't let me down again, Leon," he said in a low, scary voice. His words made the room feel heavy, like the walls were closing in. Without looking at us again, he turned and left, his warriors following him, leaving the room in a scary silence.

I breathed out slowly, not knowing I had been holding my breath. 'I want to go home...' I thought as the door closed, leaving us in the quiet office. The room felt more like a grave than a place to work. The historians stood still, looking very scared. Leon, usually so calm, seemed to fall apart. His legs gave way, and he fell to the floor, his hand shaking as he wiped blood from his cheek. I hurried to help him, my hands shaking too as I tried to steady him. I saw the grape stem on the floor—such a small thing, now a scary reminder of the prince's power.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Leon said very quietly. "The prince has given us a job we can't do."

I felt the weight of what happened, feeling guilty as I looked at the serious faces around me. I never wanted things to be like this, I thought, feeling my heart sink as I thought about what might happen to all of us.

I felt desperate. I had to say something—anything. This wasn't just about not making the prince angry—it was about staying alive.

"We need to work together to understand the scrolls," I said, trying to sound calm even though the room felt tense. But no one seemed to like my idea. I heard a few whispered talks stop as soon as I spoke. People looked away quickly, but I could still feel them watching me, judging me. I wasn't one of them—I was new and different. No one said it out loud, but I could feel it, always there, reminding me that I didn't belong.

"Why should we trust you?" Albert asked, looking at me hard.

I felt everyone turn against me then, their doubts coming out. Where I came from, why I was here, everything that made me different. "For what? To show off to His Highness and take all the praise? You're not that great either," Easton said, sounding mean.

My heart sank. I wasn’t trying to steal credit—I just wanted to save us all from the prince’s wrath. But their distrust was like a wall I couldn’t break through.

But I couldn’t back down now. I had to protect Leon and the rest from the prince’s fury. They had done so much to help me adjust to this world—how could I abandon them now? I owed them at least that much.

In the end, only four of us remained, huddled together in the dimly lit room, our breaths shallow and hearts pounding with the urgency of our task. For a week and three sleepless nights, we pored over the scrolls. My vision blurred, letters swimming on the parchment until I had to blink furiously just to refocus. Every breath felt heavy, as though my lungs were weighed down by exhaustion.

My fingers ached from gripping quills for too long, knuckles stiff and sore. Conversations were reduced to whispers, each word feeling fragile, like a precious secret that might shatter if spoken too loudly. Every insight we uncovered was a small victory, but it came at the cost of our sanity. The tension in the room was suffocating, as if the very walls were closing in on us. I discreetly offered suggestions, subtly guiding them toward the correct translations, careful not to reveal how much I truly understood the words.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we cracked the code. The most complex scroll, the one assigned to Rowell, was finally deciphered. As the last symbol was translated and the final sentence was read aloud, we all exhaled as if we had been holding our breaths for weeks. Relief washed over the room, and for a brief moment, our exhaustion was replaced by the quiet joy of accomplishment. Their faces, once etched with fear and anxiety, lit up, eyes bright with the victory we had earned together.

But even in that moment of triumph, a shadow hung over my heart. The prince’s power and ruthlessness were ever-present, a cold reminder that our success might only buy us time, and our next mistake could very well be our last. As much as I wanted to savor our achievement, the fear of what might come next gnawed at me, like a dark void swallowing any sense of peace.

Rowell, his voice barely above a whisper, smiled widely and read the final passage again, each word heavy with meaning.

📜

"Keep thy peace in one’s heart as I live and pay the price for what I desire. May forgiveness bestow upon me, as I leave behind the path for a new journey. With no malice in my intentions, as I shared with the O mighty dragon."

As he finished reading, the words hung in the air like a riddle, their meaning just out of reach. "Peace in one’s heart... a path for a new journey..." What was this scroll leading us toward? The mention of the dragon—it couldn’t be coincidence.

I watched as Leon leaned back, his eyes wide with wonder and exhaustion. His face was pale, as if his body couldn’t process the weight of our discovery.

"I think we’ve found it," he murmured, barely above a whisper. "The path... the one the prince was searching for."

For a moment, we let ourselves believe it was over. Days of endless work had left us exhausted, but the exhaustion now felt like a hard-won trophy. We lay down, one by one, on the scattered cushions and parchment, giving in to the overwhelming need for rest. The air was calm, our breathing slowing in sync, the room hushed. The world could wait; for now, we had earned this peace.

Whoever said taming a tyrant was easy had definitely never met this prince. Growing up with all those stories—they lied to me. Made me believe princes were supposed to be charming, or at least redeemable. Those northern Duke stories were more real. In those tales, the biggest challenge is awkward banter or a simple misunderstanding that gets patched up with a heartfelt confession. If only that were all I had to deal with but instead, I’m stuck with a prince who could cut us down with a single stem, and the only confession I’m making is that I wish I was back in a world where princes were clueless, not deadly.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

In some stories, the prince might’ve been a bit oblivious, but he didn’t make you feel one wrong move away from becoming a human pincushion. He’d sweep you off your feet, not sweep you into a war room and expect you to decode ancient texts while he pops grapes, completely unfazed.

Reality check: This prince isn’t about to turn into a lovestruck puppy. If anything, hinting at rebellion would just bring a storm. Those books lied—big time. If I ever make it out of this, I’m going to write my own story. One where the heroine skips the prince-taming entirely and opens a nice, quiet farm instead.

Who’s ready to join me? First, we’ve got to escape this world. Maybe a soul exchange is the way—so, are you up for swapping with me?

--

The room felt like it might burst from the tension. Rowell's voice shook as he read from the scroll, his eyes darting nervously to the prince. We sat at a long, fancy table. The only sound was the soft, steady tapping of the prince's fingers on the wood. Each tap made me jump a little, the tension growing with every beat.

When Rowell finished, the prince leaned back. His eyes narrowed at the scroll like he was taking it apart in his mind. "So, it's about this heart again," he said quietly, his voice low and sharp. His face was scarily calm, like someone solving a puzzle where lives were at stake. The air in the room felt thick, and the walls seemed to close in as he spoke these scary words.

"All the people who had these scrolls before had their hearts taken out, like you all said," he went on, talking as if he was just talking about the weather. "And we still don't have what we want." His eyes moved over us like a hungry animal looking at its food. "Do you know what that means?"

I sank lower in my chair, wishing I could disappear. The prince's words made the day feel even more like a nightmare. I thought things couldn't get worse, but they just did. The prince was making my life harder, just as I had feared he would.

My stomach felt sick. 'Hearts pulled out? Who said that?!' I felt awful. 'These people are monsters!' I was scared, but I tried to stay still. I knew that if I made even a small mistake, it could be very bad for me.

The prince smiled in a mean way. "It means the heart we need is in the Homonhon Empire. The right path is there," he said, sounding too happy. His eyes looked crazy in a way I hadn't seen before. Why did he want a heart so much? Was it really something powerful, or had the scrolls made him go crazy? Either way, seeing him so happy made me feel sick. People would die, and for what? A story? A made-up thing? No, there had to be more to it—something worse that he wasn't telling us.

"Nixon, get the warriors ready. We're going to Homonhon," the prince said in a flat voice, like this was just a normal day.

Nixon bowed, looking as cold as the prince. "Yes, Your Highness." He left without saying anything else, leaving us to think about the scary truth: we were going to a bloody war.

I tried to calm down, but I couldn't. My hands shook under the table. I dug my nails into my palms to try to stop them. I wanted to say something, but the prince looked at me so coldly that I couldn't. I knew I couldn't escape. If I said or did the wrong thing, I would die right there. I had to find a way to live.

I needed to know the last part of the puzzle too. If I had to use all my money and risk my life to find out secret information, I would. In this world, to live, I had to be like them—smart, mean, and always planning. It was the only way to stay alive.

As we got closer to the attack, the palace felt very tense. Warriors in red capes moved around, getting ready for battle. It was scary to see. The sound of weapons and marching feet reminded us of the terrible fight we were about to have.

The emperor said goodbye in a sad way. His voice sounded heavy with worry about the war. I was still wondering what I was doing here. His words stuck in my mind, warning us about the bad things to come. We were going into a very dangerous place.

I was put in the second group, behind the prince. My heart beat fast as I looked at the big desert. The sand went on forever, with only the far-away palace breaking it up. The palace looked like it wasn't real, hard to see in the heat. The desert, with its strange waterfalls, looked like someone's weird idea of a hell vacation spot.

"Where do these waterfalls even come from?" I said quietly, coughing because of the dust in the air.

I had been scared for months, and I was very tired. I was trying hard to live in this crazy world. Trying to fit in felt useless and tiring. I wondered if anyone knew I was a woman. Was I that good at pretending, or were they just not paying attention? It was all so crazy, and I didn't know which was worse—how well I was lying or how little they noticed.

I looked at the desert, thinking about how empty it was, like my old life. This was the first time I really saw the place, and it felt like a dream now—how simple everything used to be. I used to work at home and only go out when I had to. But that day was special. I went out to buy some fancy shoes. Back then, I only worried about getting the right size. Now? Now I was with warriors, stuck in a war. How did my life get so crazy?

After what felt like forever, the empty desert suddenly changed to a beautiful place—green plants, colorful flowers, and ripe fruit were all around us. It looked like fall in Canada. It was so different from the desert. The warriors quickly made camp, looking for food and water. I quietly went away to be alone.

I was very tired and sat down under a big tree by a pretty lake. When I saw myself in the water, it didn't feel real. 'Is this really what I look like as a warrior?' I didn't know if I was brave or stupid to be part of this war. For a short time, I enjoyed the quiet, but then I remembered how weird everything was.

"This isn't what I thought it would be," I said quietly, thinking about the stories I used to read. In those stories, people who went to other worlds had better luck—they became strong or important. But I was just a normal woman, in my own body, surrounded by people I had to be smarter than to stay alive. "At least those people in the stories had money and nice beds. What do I have? A headache and some new muscles!"