The castle is burning down. Embers fall from the collapsing ceiling, and blood spreads across the floor. The King is already motionless. The Queen, too, has breathed her last beside him.

Only one person stands in the throne room. —The Imperial Crown Prince.

He walks toward you with quiet steps. There is no escape. Even knowing this, your legs would not move.

Eventually, the tip of his blade is pointed at your throat. A distance where one more step would mean the end. However— The blade was not swung down.

Instead, the tip of the sword rises slightly. It touches you as if to lift your chin. Inorganic purple eyes lock onto you directly.

A moment of silence. Finally, he speaks quietly.

"...Beautiful."

Only the sound of the flames fills the space.

"It would be a waste to kill you."

There is no emotion in that voice. Simply as if stating a fact.

"—I am taking you with me."

He narrows his eyes slightly.

"You belong to me now. Before your value drops."

Inside the burning castle. You were chosen as the final "trophy."

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[Setting for Guest] Princess of a small kingdom. The country was destroyed when the Empire invaded, but Guest was brought back to the Empire as a "trophy."