The Opposite of Indifference - Chapter 0

Prologue

Beyond the massive drawbridge stood the royal palace, its spires piercing the sky. Within the grand palace adorned with luxurious stone, a lavish ball was taking place.

“Praise him!”

A trumpet blast rang through the hall, and the royal herald proclaimed. The ladies, who had been gliding across the white marble floor in time with the dance, instantly halted their steps.

“The greatest king across the five continents, the guardian of our great kingdom…”

Ladies draped in velvet and cream, fur and pink, swallowed hard. They had been dancing lively country dances with their well-dressed partners.

But in truth, the ladies were waiting for only one man in the world.

“The deepest ash-gray azalea to have bloomed in the Greyheath royal lineage, the most perfect creation molded by the hands of God…”

At last, a sign that their long wait was over appeared.

“His Majesty, King Frederick!”

Like waves crashing upon the shore, everyone bowed their waists and bent their knees. They forgot they had been dancing and welcomed their king.

A towering man finally emerged.

His jet-black hair, slightly tousled, fell subtly across his smooth forehead. His gray eyes, tinged with blue, regarded the attention of the entire world as nothing more than his rightful due. A confident smile graced his crimson lips, as if he owned this court entirely.

“…How magnificent he is.”

A maid who had snuck out from the royal kitchen murmured.

But the reactions of the nobles were quite different. The closer he stepped toward the brilliant heart of the court, the deeper the silence grew.

Everyone loved him. And at the same time, they feared him. Only the reverence created solely by his presence ruled the world.

“This Advent, marking the end of the year, is truly splendid.”

King Frederick, having indulged in the full extent of his presence and power, spoke.

“May God bless my kingdom in the new year.”

He casually tipped his head and raised his goblet of wine.

The musicians resumed their playing. Among the ladies, a new kind of anticipation rippled through the air—different from before.

Their eyes shimmered with longing for the king. They desperately wished for him to approach and invite them to dance.

Charlotte lifted onto her toes. Adriana twisted her body. Ophelia swallowed dryly. Jane feigned disinterest. Elizabeth quietly recited a prayer.

But Frederick passed them all by without a glance.

Without sparing them even a look, he took his place upon the towering throne.

“It is a fine day. Why do you not dance?”

Queen Jadalin inquired. She had been watching the dancers as if they were mere circus monkeys.

“Today, I wish to think.”

Frederick smiled.

“What are you thinking about?”

Queen Jadalin found his smile unsettling.

“Well, let’s say… a chessboard.”

Frederick replied.

“My court is a chessboard. Here stands the king and the queen…”

He gestured toward himself and Queen Jadalin.

“Over there, the rooks…”

Next, he pointed to the nobles bickering before the banquet.

“Ah, and the faithful bishops…”

He gestured toward Cardinal Rupert Mullery, who stood silently in his red clerical robes beside the Archbishop.

“And, most of all, the beautifully adorned knights.”

Lastly, Frederick indicated the five ladies—Charlotte, Adriana, Ophelia, Jane, and Elizabeth.

“…You forgot the pawns.”

Queen Jadalin, who had been listening quietly, remarked.

“Did I?”

Frederick responded indifferently.

Of course, Queen Jadalin did not believe in his cheerfulness. He had imagined a game of chess, yet had deliberately omitted the pawns, the very pieces that moved diagonally forward to attack.

Her suspicions were well-founded.

Frederick had left out the pawns on purpose. Because for him, there was only one pawn—one who was once called Anne Belvard.

Unfortunately, Anne Belvard was dead.

The rooks and knights had conspired and burned that poor pawn alive. They branded her as a witch and stripped her of everything she held dear.

Yet Frederick still remembered Anne Belvard. He longed for her black hair and the blue eyes that once gleamed with violent impulse.

“Though my pawn is absent now…”

Frederick was no longer speaking to the queen.

“She will soon be invited back. Perhaps by the time this winter ends.”

He murmured to himself.

“Yes, it must be so.”

Frederick surveyed the court anew. Queen Jadalin’s suspicious face. The calculating gazes of the nobles. The bewildered confusion in Cardinal Rupert Mullery’s eyes. The insatiable thirst of the ladies…

But none of these things interested him.

More precisely, the scales of his indifference did not budge in the slightest.

“My pawn will rise from the ashes.”

Anne Belvard, however, was different.

“She will brandish her sword with relentless fury, charging forward without looking back.”

She had reversed Frederick Greyheath’s indifference. She had shaken his entire world and consumed his thoughts.

And Frederick liked that feeling.

“…The opposite of indifference is obsession.”

Anne Belvard had already been invited into the king’s game.

She simply did not know it yet.