bring Valko back

You were only a commoner. Some part of you wished you had her place instead. Maybe you’ll be able to pay that debt off—or maybe not even having a debt in the first place…

That wish came true today.

Zayne Li, the princess’s tutor and attendant, had come to your doorstep to serve as the princess’s stand-in while the royal knights searched for her. He confessed that the princess had been captured rather than running away, while the royal council had believed she had fled in fear of marrying a stranger.

You didn’t remember him when you met Emcee. There was only that brown-haired man with striking purple eyes instead. Zayne must be one of her closest confidants to tell that there was someone who looked like her twin, which was you.

You weren’t surprised he had searched your background. He offered to pay half of your parents’ debt when you finished the job, until Emcee was found. You couldn’t believe he was putting his own wealth on the line for the princess’s accident. 

You had to take the offer, your key to freedom. Also, living as a princess for a while won’t be so bad…

Right?

“Lady Y/N, please refrain from slouching.”

“Lady Y/N, pay attention when you raise your teacup.”

“Sigh—Lady Y/N.”

Now you know why you weren’t born into royalty.

You only grinned sheepishly. Zayne was at his wits' end. He’s been teaching you princess etiquette all day and night. It’s still your third day. There is a week before the neighboring ambassador returns to see whether the princess has been found.

“I’m sorry, a princess isn’t turned overnight.” You sighed, taking off your gloves. You still weren’t used to wearing them. It was to hide the scars from endless sewing and stitching. Zayne was kind enough to apply some expensive ointment to smooth the skin.

“I am well aware. Please practice these habits. We will get to your dining etiquette once more tomorrow. The lesson is over for tonight.” Zayne said, taking your gloves and placing them in their place.

“Can I ask a question, Mr. Li?” you asked, straightening your posture as he walked past to tidy up the practice items. Several books have been used to train your balance and the cutlery for dining etiquette.

“Of course, and you may just call me Zayne.” He reminded you, glancing at you. “...I am not higher in social standing than yours.”

There’s that look again. The look of longing. Maybe it was because your features are similar to the princess's. 

Did he like the princess? He has been the princess’s long confidant, after all, being her tutor—or did you misunderstand?

“Why must Her Highness be wedded? She didn’t want to be wed, as I’ve heard her woes when I met her.” It was an innocent question, yet Zayne seemed worked up about the question.

“The kingdom is on the verge of bankruptcy. The princess needs to wed to earn financial support from our neighboring kingdom… it is her responsibility as a royal.” Zayne explained, pouring tea for both of you. 

“If the princess is not back by the end of the week, they will cancel the royal wedding.”

He still eyed your movements—to take sugar, to stir your tea, to drink—it was all for the kingdom’s future. Your act will determine whether they believe the princess is back.

“...You love her, don’t you?” 

The question made him still, eyes averting elsewhere. You wondered if it hurt him to see you, a stranger who looks like her, sitting in her spot and wearing her clothes. It must be hard on him to have his lover gone—what if she really ran away?

“...It’s getting late. Get enough rest. We’ll continue our lesson in the morning.”

You watched as Zayne went out. Staring at the thick book he left for you, you groaned inwardly, trying to get the last of your brain juices to absorb these etiquettes.

Thank goodness for the maids’ miraculous hands. They can cover the bags under your eyes from memorizing the princess etiquette.

“...I hope you have slept, Lady Y/N.” Zayne deadpanned the moment he saw you. You only shrugged—still straightened, pointing at the thick book.

“Then let’s put that to the test.”

It wasn’t perfect, but there was improvement. You didn’t spill a drop from placing the sugar. You had mostly straightened your back, whether standing or sitting, and you were able to maintain eye contact with him. He could see the smugness dripping from your face.

“Great job. Here is your reward.” Zayne acknowledged it by bringing a lidded tray. He took off the lid, letting you examine the treat. 

Thick almond cookies sandwiched together, you saw his eyes sparkle at the treat—why is he the excited one?

“Try some.” 

You took a bite while keeping your manners—you wouldn’t want him to bite back. It was sweet, crumbled right through your mouth—gosh, to eat something like this every day.

“This is delicious,” you commented, taking another one. “Compliments to the patisserie chef.”

Zayne only chuckled, taking a seat across from you, partaking in the treats. “You will see the Queen tonight. She needs to see with her own eyes that her daughter came back.”

You almost dropped your precious cookie into the tea. Your test is coming sooner than you thought. 

“You will do just fine. Raise your chin. You are a princess.” 

You are a princess.

You wished it were true. 

Zayne stayed behind you at all times, providing your support—read, pressure—while you dined with the Queen. Your back was sweating, and you could feel his glare intensifying when you almost picked the wrong spoon.

Conversing with the Queen was no big deal. It seemed she didn’t really know her daughter’s interests or hobbies, or rather, she hadn’t realized because she lost her spectacles. It was all laughs before she departed after indulging in her dessert.

“Remember your duty for the kingdom, darling.”

Those were her last words before she retreated for the night. If Emcee really ran away for her freedom, you wouldn’t really blame her.

Just as Zayne helped you up to lead you back to the princess’s bedroom, a man in armor blocked your way. You staggered backwards, bumping into Zayne, who only sighed and held both your arms.

“Damn… she does look like Emcee.” You remembered this guy, the one who accompanied the princess when she went to town.

“Back off, Caleb,” Zayne said, slightly moving you behind him.

Caleb only raised his hands in surrender. “No need to get defensive, just looking at her closer…”

His eyes moved towards you. A dangerous glint flashed—oh, he doesn’t like you. He moved past you with a warning whisper.

“You’re still nothing like her. Remember your place, pauper.”

Ooh, yeah. He doesn’t like you.

You didn’t realize Zayne had already brought you to your room. Still stunned by whatever that was—it wasn’t like you’d be staying here forever. Even you knew that.

You were temporary, and you knew that.

“...Does he like—ya know, threatening mental welfare?”

“...You could say that. He hit his head when he was young.” You waited for his small chuckle to see if he was joking, but Zayne was serious as ever.

You were about to move on until he continued. “He woke up on Her Highness’s lap. He thinks she’s an angel—his savior until now.”

You raised a brow. That’s a serious issue to the point of inducing delusion. You were about to move on from the topic, but he still had something to say.

“Unfortunately, the stone wasn’t hard enough.”

“Wait—huh?” 

“Mmh, it’s unfortunate.”

“Zayne, are you messing with me?” 

Zayne sighed, crossing his arms. “Mmh, unfortunately.”

It was your turn to sigh until you didn’t know which part he was messing with you. “Wait, which part of it is unfortunate?!”

Zayne didn’t elaborate, hiding his chuckle as you pestered him for the truth about the accident. Which one was true, he never told you. 

Did it drive you crazy? Yes. You are now frazzled and confused. You’ll get Zayne next time—

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It was another day, and the neighboring kingdom’s ambassador was back to see the princess. He brought attendants—were they twins?

Your eyes blinked at the ambassador they sent. This guy looked like he laughed out of money—he must be paid well, or maybe he’s just a wealthy noble.

“The royal wedding will ensue, it seems.” Skye, the ambassador, nodded. The attendants were dismissed to write a report to send back to their kingdom.

You felt sweat budding on your back the second time since the interaction with the Queen. This guy’s eyes looked discerning. What if he finds out you’re a fake?

“Is there something you need, sir?” You remembered to keep your chin up, which earned an amused gaze from the man.

“Why, yes. As the ambassador, I must see further if the princess is suitable for our… king.” Skye hummed, taking steps closer.

You held your ground, nodding. “Very well, let us have tea in the garden.”

Looking at Zayne for confirmation, he only nodded, instructing the maids to prepare the place.

Well, walking like a princess for more than an hour hurts your back. You’ve been gripping the front of your skirt to keep your composure. You try your best to answer all his questions about—uh, the garden, which you totally wing. 

“May I ask a question, Mr. Qin?” you asked, indulging yourself in the almond cookies Zayne must have specially requested. 

“I must have talked too much. Please do, Your Highness.” Skye nodded. He’s been watching your reactions to his words, then what you eat, what you see—you were hyper-aware of it too.

“Why had the king gone far too another kingdom to find a bride? I mean no offense, but had none of the ladies in your kingdom satisfied him?” you asked out of pure curiosity. What high standards does he have? 

He is a king. Surely, the duke’s daughter would be okay in terms of stature.

“The king has not found who he likes. That is all.” Skye easily answered. He had an amused smile. 

You raised your brow slightly. Was he much more of a romantic than she thought?

“Then, what makes it certain that the princess—I am someone he likes? We have yet to meet.” You cleared your throat, caught off guard. Caleb’s words were drilled well—you can’t refer to yourself as the princess.

“I am his closest aide. I know what he would like.” Skye chuckled. 

He wondered if you’d be betrayed to know who he truly is, Skye—or rather, Sylus Qin, the king from the neighboring kingdom.

“I will take your word for it.” A faux smile was on your lips. 

You weren’t sure whether you were happy or sad. Would he be disappointed once he knew you weren’t the actual princess?

“It will be time for my… baking lessons, yes. Please excuse me, I wish you a pleasant stay in the palace.” You tried to read Zayne’s lips from afar.

As soon as you stood up, Sylus took your hand, bringing it to his lips as a greeting. You almost pulled your hand away, grinning nervously.

“I will see you again, Your Highness.”

Curtsying one last time. You scurried down the garden path.

“Baking lessons, interesting.” Sylus only watched you run down the road elegantly—at least, tried to. He only let out a small laugh. He’ll need to speak with you more to know who you actually are underneath the title of princess.

On the other hand, you reached Zayne, who was waiting at the end of the road. “Baking lessons, was it?”

Zayne furrowed his brows in confusion, still guiding you back into the palace. “What do you mean? A princess does not bake. You are going to painting lessons.”

“Oh.” You hoped Skye would understand why baking lessons were needed.

“Did you say anything odd?”

“Whatever do you mean? Let us bake—I mean, paint!”

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

As you all wait for Emcee to be found, it’s been almost a week since you met the neighboring kingdom's ambassador. You’ve been on friendly terms with the ambassador, Skye. He’s… interesting. 

Do all nobles act this lavishly? Compared to your stiff movements, you can only wince whenever Zayne shakes his head. A great student you are.

Not to mention his sets of suits. As a seamstress, you could tell those fabrics don’t even exist in the madam’s boutique. What is that? Mulberry silk? Belgian linen?

“Like the design, Your Highness?” He noticed your gaze. He always notices everything you do. 

It was only the two of you in the garden, underneath the gazebo, for tea. It became an unspoken agreement to sit and drink around this time of day, just to talk and enjoy each other’s presence, or more of you running away from your lessons.

“It is intricate, yes. Is this your finest fabric?” you find yourself asking, eyes still on the trimming of his sleeve. 

“Derived from the softest wool. Would you like to touch?” He offered, arm extended. 

You inched closer, not missing the opportunity. You may hate working at the madam’s boutique, but learning about fabrics is basically half of your life story. How comfortable it will be when worn, how light it is for the skirt to flow…

“I have heard women love their dresses. I was not aware you would pay close attention to its fabrics.” Skye muses. 

You froze in turn. This was not what a princess would do. 

You cleared your throat, composing yourself, going back to your seat. “As you said, women love their dresses. Wouldn’t it be great if we could supply your finest materials once our kingdoms are united?”

You gave yourself a pat on the back.

“I applaud you for thinking ahead. I’ll be sure to offer it up to His Majesty.” Skye nodded, noting what you liked. While the fabrics he uses probably aren’t available, given how rare they are, if you meant business supplies for the high society.

“I shall send word to inform that Your Highness has an eye for clothing.” He will at least order a few garments for you to wear, using the high-grade wool that made your eyes sparkle the moment you touched it.

He could imagine you in your wedding dress. He’ll be sure to have the finest material ready for the wedding.

“What about you, Sir Skye? What do you like?” You really did bond with him. He lets you use his first name, or maybe because you were a princess, so he lets you.

Sylus smiled. What does he like? As in Skye? Or as himself? Both should be the same, no?

“Music, I relish hearing orchestras.” What an expensive hobby. 

You were jealous. You wished you could watch the opera, yet you couldn’t even buy a ticket with no income. The money from singing in the plaza couldn’t come close. You resolved to hear from outside the building or sneak into the back rooms—it works sometimes. 

“I see, it suits you.” It was unexpected. You thought he was more of a political guy—maybe he is, but he doesn’t show it. 

“Does it? You must love hearing songs too to hire a songstress to your room.”

You almost spit out your tea. Scandalized. He passed by your room? Now, why would he? 

The last time you sang was in the bathroom with your bubble bath—so much for a palace’s soundproof walls. 

You squinted your eyes at him. He may be hot, but you forgot he might be a red flag—a creep at that. You hadn’t recalled that his quarters were near yours either.

“Of course! Music is one of my interests.” Just smile, you weren’t lying anyway to be an enjoyer of music. 

You love music. Except that songstress was you, singing to your dove, who usually perched on your window whenever you sang. You had a habit of opening the window for her to fly in.

“Pray tell, who is that songstress? We should hire her for the wedding.” Skye asked, drinking his tea. He doesn’t get the slightest clue it was you.

Well, wasn’t this a good opportunity? While Emcee and the king get married, you will be singing for them. Just imagine how much money you’ll make by singing at a royal wedding.

“She is my personal songbird—and I’m afraid she is a little shy. It would need time for her to get ready to sing in front of such a crowd.” You smiled, lying your way through. 

“I see. Do leave a message that His Majesty would love to listen to her sing.”

Oh, you definitely will.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Just one tiny little problem… You can’t sing freely now.

“There is the palace greenhouse if you are ever bored. You can ask someone to bring you there sometimes. Rest well.” Zayne informed you before leaving for the night. He came by to report on the princess search, and you appreciate that he is keeping you updated.

You immediately went to the greenhouse after he said it with a bag of seeds. Donned in your sleeping gown, a robe wrapped around you to keep you warm. Your dove came along, hearing you hum all the way.

“How come you’re always around at this hour? Did you memorize my schedule?” you asked the dove, who only cooed. You shrugged at the response you couldn’t decipher, smiling, “At least I have a friend here.”

The dove cooed happily as you entered the greenhouse. 

The smell of flowers wafted. Flowers were in every corner of the greenhouse. The most flowers you’ve seen were at the florist beside the madam’s boutique before living in the palace.

You sat on one of the benches, just enjoying the calm evening and releasing a few of your melodies. Another bird flew in, and you watched as it interacted with your dove.

“Hm? You have an owner?” 

A black crow… with a band on one of its legs, a shiny one at that!

It’s avoiding the seeds. Maybe you should bring peanuts too—what do crows even eat? 

While you thought, it cawed around you. You raised a brow, showing your hands. “No, I don’t have anything else aside from seeds.”

Instead, it placed… a bracelet. 

You squinted. Are these actual gemstones? Little dark red rubies decorating the golden chain—how much is this worth? Surely more than your salary could ever give, ha.

“You’re giving this to me?” Still in disbelief, you point to yourself, then to the bracelet. You think the crow just sighed. It was definitely looking at you like you’ve grown two heads.

While you were busy admiring the accessory, your dove was actively backing away from the crow, cooing defiantly. They’re just going in circles right now.

Oh, does the princess actually have a secret admirer who exchanges letters with this crow?

“You know, sorry to burst your bubble. But I’m not the actual princess right now,” you quietly said, placing the bracelet around the crow’s head, who cawed in confusion.

Yet you only placed it back on your lap before it flew away. 

You exchanged glances with your dove. She was worked up from the wooing of the crow. Holding the bracelet, you started to walk back to your room.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hold on to it for a while.

“Are you sure you gave it to the songstress? Not the princess.” 

The crow, Mephisto, perched on his owner’s arm, only tilted his head. Sylus stood at the entrance of the garden. It was by chance that he saw you walking towards the greenhouse. He was planning to let Mephisto go and hand this bracelet to the songstress.

At first, he paid no mind to you. His goal was to find the songstress, so he could surprise you with the singer you love for the wedding. Yet Mephisto flew towards you. He furrowed his brows, following him down the path.

That’s when he heard the voice—your voice, quiet, yet the same singing voice he heard when passing by your room. He hadn’t recognized that you were the one singing that day.

“Birds of a feather, hm?” he muttered, hearing the lyrics of your song, probably singing to your only two audience. It made him chuckle slightly, singing about birds to two birds.

There was no mistake now. It was you whom he was seeking.

He knew you were different from the second time he came back to the kingdom. Sure, you looked similar to the princess, but you were not the princess.

How did he know? A sliver of your actual hair color was out while you were having tea with him. The specks of light reflecting in your eyes were different from hers, in the way you speak and sit. It was all different.

There was no fooling Sylus. While it was brief when he met the actual princess, the difference was prominent to him. The princess loves her knight. She didn’t want to marry a stranger—her eyes were already on another. 

Yet you, the slight fear was held in your eyes, from making mistakes and being caught. Survival—it was what he had seen in you. It didn’t take long for him to find out you were only a seamstress at the boutique downtown, courtesy of his twins—your interest in fabrics was the final proof.

The lunch to further plan the wedding will come soon, and the prime minister will finally join after being busy. 

“Just a little more.”

It was what both of you had hoped for. A little more to get closer to freedom.

part 2 coming next week!

Tonight, he returns empty-handed again, with no leads to show for all his efforts. He sinks down into the dark leather couch in his room, and runs his hand over his face before stretching his arm on the backrest. A weary sigh escapes him as he tries to quiet his mind.

More and more, he’s coming to a conclusion that he doesn’t like. It seems like there is no such game anywhere else, and… there is no you. At least, not in this world. He ponders at how there is still much to discover, what with metaflux, spatial anomalies, and the deepspace tunnel looming above n109.

Sometimes he feels like prying the game open to force the answers out.

But perhaps he’s been looking in all the wrong places, he surmises, as his thoughts drifted to a certain miss hunter and her watch that had started this whole predicament.

His only consolation was that he gets to see you each day, the only time that he feels the knots on his shoulders loosen even for a few minutes. Sylus had transferred the game to a more portable device— his phone. He brings it with him wherever he goes, just in case you would appear again.

He quickly figured out your usual routine. Every morning and evening, without fail, you would log in. He has found himself perking up once he hears the increasingly familiar chime, the sound something he started to look forward to.

It means he gets to see you again, after all. And it’s not just about the linkage. You always show him the warmest smile, he feels an irrational want to hoard it for himself instead.

Though often you would only rush through your daily tasks, leaving him a little unfulfilled. So the rare time that you did stay a while, he listened to you with rapt attention, taking in whatever small piece of information he could glean from your monologue or your surroundings.

His phone lights up on the seat beside him with a chime, and he swiftly picks it up to look. The frown on his face eases as he remembers that today was the day you said you can play longer.

You greeted him more cheerfully than usual, fresh-faced and dressed in comfortable clothes. It looks like you are in your room. You had placed your phone on a table and made a show of cracking your knuckles and doing a few exaggerated stretches.

Sylus smirks, amused and curious. Would today be the day you finally open the other icons?

Pressing the speech bubble, you poked ‘Sylus’ a few times, scrunching your nose at his dialogues, before tapping on Quality Time, and then on Work. The game changes to show a timer alongside him keeping busy cleaning a gun.

Sylus blinks. That… is work?

An upbeat song plays, and you come back into view holding a vacuum cleaner. “You work on your chores while I do mine, okay, Sy?”

A tap, and a response, “You definitely look dependable when you have that serious look on your face.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m always dependable.”

He couldn’t help smiling. His eyes followed your figure cleaning and tidying up, popping in and out of the frame as you moved around. His lips quirks up even more so as you sang along to your playlist, even hitting the higher notes with much enthusiasm.

“Such a lively kitten,” he muses, your voice a welcome sound that fills in the quiet of his room, filling it with a warmth that had been absent for so long.

Things are tidied, cleaned, or put in place by your quick work. Your place is quaint and cozy, he observes. Pieces of decor and a few trinkets here and there. Accents of a color that seem to be your favorite. They all speak of you, giving him a better glimpse of who you are, and how you put together a place to call home.

A low chuckle escapes him, the first happy sound he’s had in a while, when you started to sway your hips and shimmy your shoulders to the beat, all while holding a mop. Quite a performance, he must say, relaxing further into his sofa as he watched you with a smile.

Soon enough, you were done, telling him to wait as you disappeared to put away your tools and take a shower.

He catches himself obediently waiting for you to come back, and he huffs out a laugh at himself. He acknowledges that he’s a lost cause ever since the first time he heard you call out his name, affection spilling from your eyes and lips.

The search for answers must continue.

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𖦏 <an> ahh the embarrassment of being watched by Sylus while doing… all that… during chores. 🫣 Guess who actually does that irl. With Sylus as a companion. Not me not me not— </>