Knock, knock, knock.
"Young lady, the celebration is about to start. Are you still preparing?"
"Almost done!" the princess shouted from inside, her voice carrying a hint of urgency.
A few moments later, the door opened and the princess stepped out of the room, her movements graceful and elegant. Soft light caught on the delicate fabric of her gown as it flowed behind her.
Despite the composure she carried so naturally, there was a faint tension in her eyes.
She paused briefly, drawing in a steady breath, then lifted her chin. Whatever doubts lingered were carefully tucked away, replaced by a cold presence befitting of a tyrant. With a quiet nod to the attendant, she began walking down the corridor, ready at last to face the guests awaiting her.
***
Back in the venue, the king stood atop the podium, straightening his robes as he prepared his speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending this evening's special occasion. Tonight, we gather to celebrate the seventeenth birthday of my beloved daughter."
His voice echoed throughout the hall. Even without a mic, it carried clearly to every corner.
He lingered for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the assembled crowd as applause and cheers filled the hall.
"Every parent present should understand the profound joy of witnessing their child's growth and journey into adulthood. With that said, I extend my warmest wishes, happy birthday, my princess."
Just as the king finished speaking, the princess entered the hall. Instantly, all eyes turned toward her. Of course, mine included.
She had tanned skin, rich brown hair, and striking green eyes. She wore a dark emerald gown that complemented her complexion, paired with elbow-length black gloves. A golden crown rested upon her head, unadorned by any other accessories, as though none were needed.
With quiet authority, she walked down the red carpet leading to the center of the venue.
As she stopped at the center, a number of young men tried to forcefully give her gifts, each one hoping to catch her attention or impress her in some way, while others went so far as to attempt to take her to dance with them, eager to lead her across the floor before anyone else could.
Their eagerness bordered on insistence, yet the princess, without showing a hint of annoyance, respectfully refused them all. She accepted none of the gifts, and she declined every invitation to dance, offering only polite smiles and gentle words.
Seeing the commotion, the king spoke again from the podium, his voice lower this time, carrying a deep, menacing edge that immediately drew the attention of the hall.
"Gentlemen," he began, each word deliberate and commanding.
"I suggest you all step away from my daughter. This is a day of celebration for her, a day that should be filled with joy and respect. And yet, what is it you think you are doing?"
The murmurs of the crowd stopped as his gaze swept over the young men, leaving no doubt that his warning was not to be taken lightly.
Even Naoki, who was right beside me, flinched at the rise sudden tension.
"Isn't this supposed to be a birthday party. A birthday is a happy occasion, right?"
"Not all of them Naoki, this one's a political birthday party, and politics are never happy."
The king continued, his voice measured but firm.
"Well… I can see your interest in my daughter. How about this. If any of you can keep up with her in a dance, then you may have the honor of spending time with her. Simple right?"
He paused, his gaze softening slightly as he addressed the princess.
"Ahh… but only with your agreement, of course, Sophia."
The princess, Sophia, chuckled.
"Of course, Father. You needn't worry, I'm quite confident in my dancing."
The room buzzed with chatter. Some young men hesitated, unsure of how to proceed, while others carried themselves with a visible air of confidence.
Then the music began, flowing through the hall like a spell, soft yet enchanting, wrapping around every listener and setting the scene for what was to come.
One particularly bold suitor with blonde hair, wrapped in velvet and smelling strongly of cologne, strode toward her with large steps and exaggerated confidence, extending his hand in an unnecessary dramatic flourish as if expecting the entire room to start cheering.
"I shall prove myself worthy, Your Highness," the young man declared.
Sophia's eyes moved from his outstretched hand to his face.
"Don't step on my dress," she said, her tone calm but carrying a sharp edge.
The crowd chuckled at her bluntness, and the young man quickly corrected his footing, trying to mask his embarrassment with a forced smile.
At last, the dance began. At first, it went smoothly, both dancers moving with confidence and grace. But as the music quickened, the rhythm became more challenging, and the young man inevitably stumbled, tripping over the princess's foot.
"Amateur," Sophia said, her voice dripping with clear disdain. Humiliated, the young man scrambled to his feet before fleeing the hall, tears in his eyes.
Sophia turned her gaze to the next suitor.
"Next."
***
Just like that, one by one, each suitor attempted the dance. And one by one, they failed. Some didn't even try, turning and leaving in silent defeat, while others straight up switched targets.
"I am grateful, Your Majesty, even tough I failed."one suitor humbly said.
"I appreciate it; you did well."
The suitor bowed once again before leaving.
"Anyone else?"
Naoki was feeling better, but still a little unwell. In that state, he couldn't dance with someone like the princess. So that only left me.
I handed my phone over to Naoki, telling him to record my dance. He could at least do that much.
"I don't know why they're doing a dance battle at a birthday party, but go get her man."
I strode toward the princess, each step deliberate, yet a flicker of hesitation ran through me. Was I really going to draw all this attention?
Well, it's a dance with the royal princess; I should be happy. Some people would kill for an opportunity like this… maybe. And maybe I'll fail as well.
"Just go, man. You gay or something?"
Just as I opened my mouth to retort to Naoki's questionable insult, Mr. Watanabe appeared and lightly nudged me forward, holding his own phone out.
Is he seriously going to recording too?
The princess stood alone, statuesque under the spotlight, every eye drawn to her as she waited for her next dance.
Suddenly, I was at her side, extending my hand in invitation.
She took it, the soft silk of her gloves warm against my skin, and pulled me closer, positioning herself with effortless grace.
Naturally, I mirrored her movements.
No words were exchanged as the music began once again, filling the hall with its enchanting rhythm.
At first, the dance was smooth, almost serene far more relaxing than I had expected. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, the princess quickened the tempo.
Ah… so much for relaxing.
"Impatient, Your Highness?" I teased.
"Oh, you speak? I was beginning to think you'd lost your voice," she replied, a smirk tugging at her lips.
This was it: fast steps, precise turns, and hands pressed together in perfect rhythm with a royal princess. I wasn't truly tired, of course, and for a trained mercenary, this pace was merely a mild challenge.
The music suddenly halted, the dance was over, and the princess released her grip on my shoulder and hand, then simply walked away.
She was surprisingly strong, which honestly was more surprising than the situation itself.
The crowd erupted into applause. I caught sight of Naoki and Mr. Watanabe clapping enthusiastically, their smiles wide.
Looks like his stomachache's finally gone, I thought, grinning to myself.
Still, that had been… anticlimactic. I preferred a bit more action from time to time. Even with the warm-up earlier today... maybe England wasn't quite as dangerous as I'd imagined.
***
"Mr. Watanabe, how's your recording?"
Normally, Naoki would have never started a conversation with Mr. Watanabe. But this time, he was in a good mood. His stomachache was gone. Finally, some relief.
Maybe life wasn't trying to kill him today.
"Half of it. My phone died. Actually... what's the matter? You've been fidgeting all this time."
"Oh, my stomachache is gone, so I'm very happy." He said with a smile.
Mr. Watanabe stared at him, eyes narrowing. This is the first time he's heard of this... stomache.
Naoki felt a surge of panic. He accidently let it slip, and now Here it comes, the scolding. He's going to ask about every bite he ate.
He knew he shouldn't have touched that second slice of cake, or the sandwich, or the oranges… or maybe the peanuts and apple as well.
This was bad.
"And can you tell me how you got this stomachache? And on an occasion such as this, of all times?"
Naoki swallowed hard. He wished he could disappear. This was exactly why he avoided talking to Mr. Watanabe. If only he could shrink small enough to escape notice.
Well maybe the apple wouldn't matter.
"U-uh, we ate the chocolate cake."
"We?"
"Yeah… Saitou and I. He ate my half, and I ate his."
Mr. Watanabe was still suspicious, a single choclate cake wouldn't cause a stomachache.
"And is that all you ate?"
"W-well... I also had ice cream, grapes, peanuts, and an apple."
Naoki winced, imagining every possible consequence. He was starting to think that he should've stayed in bed today, or maybe moved to another country. Antarctica sounds nice. Penguins don't care about chocolate cake.
"Yes… sir." Naoki muttered, already dreading what was to come.
***
The party had ended, and the guests began leaving one by one. Meanwhile, the king invited us to speak with him privately.
He led us to the dining hall, where a long, ornate table stretched across the room. The king settled into the tallest, most elaborate chair, while we took our respective seats at the side.
"You know," the king began, his voice tinged with nostalgia, "this room reminds me of fond memories. Back when my family was complete, back when the kingdom was at peace."
"What do you really want to talk about, Your Majesty?" Mr. Watanabe replied immediately, his tone was steady.
"I apologize for digressing. I merely wanted to confirm whether you had informed the young men… about what they would truly be facing here."
I cleared my throat softly, enough to gain attention without seeming disrespectful.
"Excuse me, but what do you mean exactly?"
King Thomas sighed. "Saitou, Naoki, please understand. These aren't your average targets. I will explain the details later, but consider this a warning."
Mr. Watanabe let out a confident scoff and smiled. "Don't worry, Your Majesty. I have trained these children well. They wouldn't back down without a fight."
"Well, if you say so," the king replied, then turned his gaze toward us.
"Saitou and Naoki, you will be working as our royal butlers from now on to avoid suspicion."
He paused for a moment, studying our reactions before resuming.
"You may leave for the moment. Mr. Watanabe and I have matters to discuss privately."
Naoki and I exchanged a glance. This wasn't unexpected, we already knew we would be working undercover for the king. Being appointed as royal butlers fit perfectly within those expectations.
We both stood, bowed, and left the room in perfect sync. Leaving the both of them alone to discuss.