Win Prison
"Good... Evil... Good... Evil..."
As he walked down the prison corridor, he plucked the petals from the narcissus flower in his hand. In all his life, he had never seen this place so clean. Even the walls gleamed. Every petal that fell to the ground landed on spotless stone instead of sinking into mud, and not a speck of dust rose into the air. Only two petals remained.
"Good..."
When he reached the last petal, he stopped in front of Narcissus's cell and whispered,
"Evil." He raised his head.
Through the iron bars, he saw Narcissus sitting on the floor instead of the bed. The finest food and drinks had been left untouched before him. He stepped toward the cell, but the two guards crossed their spears in front of the door, blocking his way. He took a deep breath. He couldn't blame them. He didn't look like nobility. Dressed the way he was, he looked far more like a commoner than the queen's son.
"I have a message from Her Majesty for Lord Narcissius."
The guards ignored him as though they were deaf. A sly smile spread across his face. He had expected this. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Holding it up, he said,
"The queen's request is written here."
He pushed it closer to their faces and pointed to the bottom of the page.
"And here's Her Majesty's seal."
The spears lowered.
He pushed open the unlocked cell door and stepped inside.
The guards didn't dare lock the door behind him.
Doing so might have been considered a great insult—especially since no one even knew what crime Narcissus had supposedly committed.
He closed the door behind him and tossed the paper onto the bed.
Crossing his arms, he leaned silently against the iron bars inside the cell.
Narcissus asked, "What did Aphrodite say?"
"Nothing. Did you really think my mother would dare say anything in a situation like this?"
Narcissus gave him a tired look and replied impatiently,
"Then why are you here?"
His eyes drifted to the paper bearing Aphrodite's handwriting and personal seal.
"And what's that?"
"I'm here because I have an important question to ask you."
He shrugged.
"And that document is fake."
Narcissus smirked. He had always admired Paris's talent for deception.
"Go ahead. Ask your 'important' question."
He had no doubt it wasn't important in the slightest. Still, anything was better than dwelling on his own thoughts—even listening to the boy's nonsense. With the air of a philosopher, Paris asked,
"Do you think good and evil can exist side by side, or is evil simply the absence of good?"
Narcissus frowned. "What?"
"It's like light and darkness. Darkness is merely the absence of light—it doesn't have an independent existence. Could evil be the same? Nothing more than the absence of good?"
Pushing himself away from the wall, Paris stepped closer, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Imagine evil doesn't actually exist. Imagine humanity has been chasing the destruction of something that was never real in the first place."
"I can assure you this is definitely not the conversation I want to have before my execution."
Paris shook his head and changed the subject, just as Narcissus wanted.
"You're not going to die."
"I'll save you."
"I have no interest in being saved."
Paris spoke again with complete confidence.
"You were betrayed by the last person you ever expected. You're about to be executed for a crime you never committed. Your will to live is below zero right now."
He paused before continuing.
"It makes perfect sense that you've entered the first stage of depression and don't care whether you live or die."
Taking another breath, he continued,
"But the moment you step onto the execution platform, that's when you'll realize what a terrible mistake you've made."
"You'll snap out of that depression, and fear will consume every part of you."
Narcissus let out an exhausted sigh and leaned his head back against the cold stone wall. Paris was the God of the Mind. Once he started talking, there was no stopping him. He was the son of Aphrodite and Hephaestus—Aphrodite's first husband. The fire god who had ultimately been consumed by his own flames and descended into the Underworld. Although Paris was considered the queen's eldest son, no one truly took him seriously because of his strange way of speaking and the way he dressed. Anyone who didn't know he belonged to the royal family of the Kingdom of Beauty would undoubtedly mistake him for a servant. His hair was a mix of chestnut brown and blond, and his eyes were green, just like his mother's. He was also far too reckless.
"Your philosophical ramblings aren't helping me, Paris."
The green-eyed young man glanced through the bars at the guards standing outside the cell.
Then he stepped closer to Narcissus.