Chapter 8:
Brown Sugar Cinderella
I was utterly transfixed, gaping at a sight I had almost never witnessed firsthand in my entire life.
Everything around me; the atmosphere, the ambiance, even the setting itself—felt so starkly different from the world I had always known.
And that made me think I had now been transported to another universe, to a reality I could usually only encounter through the medium of dreams or fairy tales.
Inside a room that was clearly part of a royal palace; circles of white flower petals were arranged exquisitely, seemingly floating gracefully around the room. Their arrangement looked as if designed by a renowned interior designer.
Above, the ceiling was adorned with intricate hanging lamps resembling classic batik ornaments. The walls and floor were covered in polished marble that caught and refracted the light from above, making the entire room glow.
Thin, chiffon-like fabric draperies; soft and almost transparent—were draped in perfect curves on every side, waving high from the ceiling, gracefully cascading, wrapping around magnificent pillars made of luxurious granite.
The delicate clinking of wine glasses touching echoed softly, creating a small orchestra in harmony with the lively crowd within.
The same could be said for the people there, dressed in garments so lavish, they resembled nobles.
Many men appeared in classic tailcoats or tuxedos paired with silk bow ties, lace white shirts, and glistening brocade vests.
Some even donned formal royal attire or military uniforms complete with medals, sashes, and golden epaulets that made them all look dashing at a glance.
Meanwhile, the women wore grand ball gowns with wide, flowing skirts, their silhouettes resembling giant blooming flower petals. Each dress was adorned with gold-thread embroidery, tiny beads, and jewels that sparkled just as brilliantly.
Yet, there were also a few who wore no such luxury. They stood silently in the corners of the room, dressed in simple white outfits like servants. Or perhaps, that’s exactly what they were.
As for me, my body was still being cradled in someone’s arms. The person carrying me walked slowly, circling the magnificent room, approaching one by one the people who seemed to be acquaintances, relatives, or perhaps close friends of the person carrying me.
I didn’t understand the language they spoke. The tone was foreign to my ears. But even though I couldn’t grasp a single word, I could still clearly interpret their gestures. They welcomed me with warm faces, full of kindness and respect.
For some reason, they treated my presence as if I were something precious.
Every now and then, someone would take over carrying me. They’d lift me up from the previous person’s arms, raise me high into the air, spin me around like they were playing with a toddler, then plant an overly enthusiastic kiss on my cheek.
Whoa… Sir, please don’t…
The moment his lips landed on my cheek, it somehow felt like being kissed by a vacuum cleaner. To make things worse, his breath reeked of charcoal. Honestly, I didn’t like being treated that way. But everything happened so fast, and I was still trapped in a fog of confusion that hadn’t quite lifted, so all I could do was surrender.
Then came a group of big-bosomed aunties, closing in and crowding around me. One of them took over holding me, and just like that, I was swallowed by soft mountains surrounding my face from all sides.
They pinched my nose, squeezed my cheeks, poked my lips while laughing and teasing, and didn't forget to occasionally tickle my body with a somewhat torturous tickle. But this one... well, I could still accept that.
However...
Suddenly, a loud creak halted the moment. The large gate in the room slowly opened—dragging across the floor.
Through the widening gap in the grand doors, a figure emerged—a man who looked like a priest. He wore a long robe in a pale golden hue, carrying a chalice in his left hand and a tall staff in his right.
At his sides, walking in unison, were two figures in uniform—likely soldiers or royal guards. They wore full suits of armor, swords sheathed at their waists, and gleaming shields strapped to their arms.
They walked slowly along the red carpet that stretched through the center of the hall. The people who had been casually standing around now began to step aside, moving to the edges of the room, their heads slightly bowed. Some who were still holding wine glasses quietly set them down.
Everyone appeared calm—assuming a formal demeanor, as if preparing to witness a solemn and sacred religious procession.
Before the gathered crowd, the priest seemed to begin a sermon or perhaps a prayer—about something I didn’t understand. I couldn’t make sense of any of it. But there was one thing I heard clearly, the only word I could grasp and comprehend; as the priest finished his recitation, everyone responded in unison, “Amen.”
And in that very moment, the person who had been holding me all this time stepped forward into the middle of the red carpeted aisle where the priest had passed. Moving slowly ahead, they carried me directly to the priest.
The priest looked at me with a gentle smile. He then dipped his hand into the chalice he had been carrying all along and began to wash my head with the water inside.
After rinsing my head several times, he took something that had been hanging from his staff—a small bottle wrapped in cloth, resembling a potion vial. He unwrapped the cloth, removed the cap, and poured its contents directly into my half-open mouth.
As he poured the liquid, he began to recite something. At the same time, the guards beside him—and perhaps everyone else in the room—closed their eyes and pressed their hands together tightly in front of their chests, as if in deep prayer or solemn supplication.
Once I had swallowed the last of the potion, the priest looked at me again. This time, with a faint smile and narrowing eyes.
Then suddenly...
My body felt as if it were doused in flames from within. A surge of heat seemed to explode from my core. My muscles suddenly tensed uncontrollably, my breath hitched, my chest tightened as if my lungs were refusing air. I tried to writhe, to struggle from the embrace of the person holding me, thinking that perhaps I had just been poisoned.
My vision also began to spiral. The world around me seemed to fragment into absurd pieces of the color spectrum. The figure of the priest before me appeared to split into many, like overlapping, shifting, and undulating shadows.
And before I could even begin to grasp what was truly happening…
Everything went dark. My vision became utterly void.
...
My soul felt as if it were being forcefully torn out, ripped from its vessel, then hurled downward into a place so unfamiliar. I landed upon a vast, hollow plane. Its surface reflected a dark sky, shrouded in thick, pitch-black fog.
There I curled up—no more than a faint gray silhouette, the only living being in a bleak and frozen landscape. An anomaly among the colorata that should have inhabited a realm like this.
I witnessed countless flashbacks—both beautiful and painful—unfolding in one seamless stream that seemed impossible to ever erase from heart or mind.
Fragments of the past rushed by, like an old film reel playing on endless repeat; from the innocence of my childhood to the moments when my life slowly transformed into a quiet symbol of sacrifice.
Those memories arranged themselves in perfect chronological order, as if trying to prove that every event had left a real, lasting scar. And some of those scars, it turns out... still hadn’t healed.
All of it made me feel small, trapped within a shallow and fragile inner space. I felt myself being pulled back into emotions I had never fully unraveled.
I saw again the fights between my parents—the sight of a flower vase flying through the air, shattering into sharp shards that once cut my head.
I saw again the stray cat I used to feed every evening—lying dead in the street, crushed by a vehicle, with no one stopping to care.
I saw myself collapsed on the ground, bruised and battered—beaten by strangers who didn’t know me, simply because they thought I was a pickpocket. When all I had wanted was to return a wallet someone had dropped.
I saw again every form of love I had ever fought for—each one crushed, over and over, by a world that never left room for tenderness.
But at the end of that corridor of memories, I saw a woman. Someone I had never met in my entire life. Her face was faint, almost blurred, yet I knew—she was beautiful. Just seeing her silhouette brought a strange calm, a quiet joy. She stirred in me a deep, unfamiliar longing.
She stood at a distance, watching me with a sorrowful smile. She said something—not in a voice my ears could catch, but my heart understood it. A whisper of a message, from a world only known to those familiar with sobs and screams.
And in that moment, I lifted my hand and waved slowly. A parting gesture—not just for her, but for all the memories that had chained me for so long.
I said farewell to everything that had ever filled my life—leaving it all behind, slowly, in a dark room with almost no light...
A place I no longer wished to return to.
...
When I came to, I had returned to my physical body.
My gaze immediately fell on the priest’s face, now looking at me with deep concern.
“Your Majesty... Your Majesty... please nurse your baby at once. It seems he's feeling anxious,” said the priest.
Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed, followed by a gentle voice.
“It’s okay, sweetheart... no need to be nervous, shh... shh...” she said as she took me from the person holding me before. She cradled me in her arms, held me close, and gently patted my back. “You want some milk, huh? Come on, let’s nurse first...”
Milk?
Hey... You’ve got to be kidding me...
Someone like me—who once dreamed of destroying the world—and now you're telling me to nurse?!
But wait...
Something had changed.
I could now begin to understand their language.
...
The woman carried me into a room. I heard the creak of a door being opened again, though this time the sound was softer, thinner.
I glanced around—a bedroom. There was a soft bed, a tall wardrobe, a desk stacked with books, and a dim light filtering through the space.
She sat on the edge of the bed, then slowly loosened part of her clothing and brought her breast toward me.
"Here you go... time to nurse..."
But I quickly turned my head away.
No... this is unacceptable.
This had crossed into a territory far too dangerous for both my morals and my sanity.
I’m not the kind of person who surrenders just because of a pair of breasts.
But as I turned my head to avoid the sight...
My eyes fell upon a large mirror mounted on the side of the wardrobe. It reflected a tiny figure—
And that reflection made me freeze on the spot...
Turns out, I’m incredibly handsome...
Wait no—that’s not what I meant.
What I meant was... I’m a baby.
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