"Black, isn't she?"

The words struck her again. Did she have any option though? Sadly, no. Until a bright future, she would have to spend her days, bearing with the tag of being a black girl. With the label of her culture originating from ancient Africa, a place these every day customers seemed to despise. She would have to spend her days like this and tolerate with the people judging and defining her, because of her skin colour.

According to her, the humans, her own species, were much more heinous than the Dragonesians. At least the Dragonesians did not treat anyone as slaves based solely on their skin colour, ethnicity, or culture origin.

Often she had to wonder, if being born as a black person was a sin. A crime for which she had to compensate one day, perhaps. Her parents did tell her that black was one of the prettiest colours to have ever existed. It may seem dark and evil, but when seen closely, it would be realized that black was not something diabolical; it was good, and normal, just like others. And Cynthia Kiorsa was a dark beauty, who should be proud of herself. That was obviously before she was taken away from her parents.

Cynthia felt ashamed when she thought that if her parents were to see her now, they would not be proud of her. They would loathe her for not standing up for herself, and for taking in each and every racial comment in silence, just because she was in need of money.

The young girl of sixteen years continued to sweep the floor of the inn bar, where men and women sat; primarily men, drinking alcoholic beverages or similar drinks and enjoying their afternoon meals.

Being drowned in her thoughts, Cynthia did not notice that one of the customers had intentionally poured hot, boiling fluid of his tea right around where she was working. As expected, her feet slipped, and she fell over the bucket full of water. The water emitted splashes onto a few customers, who rose from their seats in disapproval and rage.

Cynthia promptly stood up, her dress and hair already drenched enough in the water. She did not waste any moment before apologizing to each and every person present in the tiny bar of the inn she worked and stayed at.

"Please forgive my clumsiness. I will remember to never repeat the same mistake. As for your food, if you could give me some time—"

"What time are you talking about, you little prick?" a grown man, with fury evident in his eyes, snarled, stepping forward, "Do you think we all have enough time to wait till you get us our food ready? Or perhaps, you simply wanted attention since nobody seemed to be giving you any."

"Well I don't blame her though," a woman this time, who seemed to be in her late twenties, sniggered, "Who would even spare a glance at an ugly and black girl like her?"

"I would," the man who had spoken before, uttered in a low, dangerous voice, "If this girl shows her cleavage to me—"

Cynthia did it.

She slapped the man hard, receiving sheer silence from the people in return. It was not every day that Cynthia felt temper rising within her. However today, she felt it. The utter experience of witnessing her self-respect getting snatched away in front of her eyes was nothing but excruciatingly painful.

"Think before you spea—"

Warm blood seeped from the corner of her lips, as Cynthia felt her head buzzing and vibrating with a sudden ache. She turned her head back to see who had slapped her, and there the person was. The inn owner's wife, who was never fond of Cynthia in the first place.

She was a woman too. An adult at that. Then how could she slap another female, who had just been insulted and discriminated heavily by her body? How could she not take her side?

She was just sixteen.

"I apologize on her behalf. I'll make sure that her bitchy behaviour stays within limits."

Cynthia could not hear anything more because she was already downstairs and inside her small bedroom. It was not really a bedroom initially. The room used to serve as a storage facility where rice sacks were stored, prior to Cynthia's arrival. She was given nothing but two rags to sleep on, when she was taken there. Later, from the money she had earned and saved, Cynthia was able to buy one bed, meant for a single person.

She closed the door behind her as quietly as possible.

"You are here early today."

Cynthia flinched at the sound. When she turned around, she found her nine-year-old sister Cora on the bed, sitting up straight.

"I thought you were having your afternoon nap," Cynthia mumbled before walking straight towards the direction of the attached washroom. And also, so that she could hide the cut on her lips.

But in vain.

"She slapped you again, didn't she?"

Cynthia nodded subtly, finding no reason to lie further. She faced her sister completely, displaying her swollen lips.

Cora clenched her fists tight and said through gritted teeth, "I will kill her."

"I am alright, Cora. I have been through worse."

Cora glanced to the other direction, when she felt tears pooling in her eyes. Two years ago, Cora had been brought to Cynthia, saying that she was rescued as well. They were not rescuers, however. Cynthia was both concerned and elated to see her baby sister, whom she had last seen when the younger girl was only two years old.

And she would have fought with death, but would never have allowed Cora to go through the same fate as of hers. Thus, in this small inn, Cynthia had received the permission to not let Cora work and grant permission for her sister's education. But in return, the older girl had to work throughout the days and nights and face every criticism, perversion, and racial discrimination from groups of grown men and at times, women.

"Would we ever receive our happy ending, Cynthia?" Cora asked, her head falling on her sister's lap with the question, "Like in fairytales."

"Soon."

Glass vials were always expensive and almost impossible to afford for the normal citizens. Usually, the Dragonesian nobles, merchants, and members of royal families were able to purchase such. And at times, the wealthy humans, whose numbers were very small, could buy them. It was no wonder that Leon had a similar glass vial in his possession. Perhaps he was rich and not a relatively poor Dragonesian, Alana had thought he was before.

The crystal green liquid shone under the daylight, sparkling and illuminating rays of lights through the shiny glass. The sight itself was so beautiful that Alana wanted to drown in the swirling liquid. It was oddly alluring, calling her and pulling her to hold it in her possession.

"As a token of showing my appreciation to you, for not killing me off, and well, letting me come along with you," Leon began, and brought Alana out of her mesmerized state, "I would like to gift you this vial. Now the green liquid that this vial contains cannot be found anywhere. It has been invented by me, you could say. The procedure was fairly simple. I just had to take the seed of Lenorusea Heriosea plant, and a petal of Giagornosa Kiroa flower. Then, after mixing the two ingredients well and transforming them into their liquid form, I had to heat up everything. The liquid contained numerous impurities, so I had to be careful about the length of time—"

"Really, I am too dumb to understand your scientific experiment. Just get to the point," Alana interrupted mid-way, an exhausted yawn leaving her mouth.

Leon blinked twice, disappointed for not being able to share his greatest discovery. Not that he was ever allowed outside his residence, or had any friends in the first place, for a simple conversation. He would have been happy however, if he had one person, an acquaintance even, with whom he could share about whatever he wanted.

"Dragonesians have a distinctive scent, which cannot be smelled by any other creature, except the Dragonesians themselves. Humans have a specific kind of fragrance to them as well, which Dragonesians, who have a strong sense of smelling ability, can identify. This is how earlier, the Dragonesian was able to sniff yours, a human's smell."

"Do you have this ability too?"

"I am not sure why I lack in having so many abilities when it comes to being a Dragonesian," Leon sighed but soon covered it with a mask of false grin. He said, "Anyway, if you drink this liquid, then you will emit off the Dragonesian smell, which will help you in the long run. The odds of you getting caught will be reduced. The odour, of course, is not permanent. It will stay on you for about three days. Thus, taking one drop of the liquid once, after every three days, will be alright."

Alana turned around the vial in her hand. She then looked over at Leon before saying, "I appreciate your help, but I will save it for later."

"Could we rest here for a while? We have been walking for ages, it seems," wiping away the sweat from his face, Leon asked. But before Alana could respond, he had already taken a seat on a wooden log. Alana sighed, glanced back at the route they had come from, before sitting beside him.

Unconsciously, due to the heat that was making Alana sweat uncontrollably, she removed the cloth from her face. Thence, giving a full view of her face to Leon, whether it was the side profile, it did not matter.

And she was beautiful.

Leon was blown away by her ethereal beauty. Alana did not necessarily fit with the stereotypical beauty standards the society had created, but there was this certain aura that oozed out of her. Perhaps, it was her confidence, her self-esteem, will to survive, fearlessness that made her appear so amazing in Leon's eyes. It was true that she did not possess the beauty norms that few humans and Dragonesians seemed to obsess over so much. Her face had scars which made her harsh training evident. Moreover, there were blemishes on her marshmallow-brown skin, proving the presence of pimples and acnes she had during her teenage phase.

And not for once did she seem insecure about either her scars or blemishes. Because Alana knew, they were the part of her life. The scars told the unspoken tale of her hard and entrapped life, while the blemishes narrated the story of her growing up from a little girl to an adult.

Alana was made up of the scars and blemishes.

"You are beautiful."

Alana seemed to struggle to form a proper answer. She had never really been complimented before, not at least for her appearance. But now that she was in such an unfamiliar situation, she felt a mixture of emotions rushing through her.

Was she elated? Was she uncomfortable? Was she overwhelmed? Was she pleased? Or was she unbothered?

She could not respond. She could not understand.

On the other hand, Leon could not help but chuckle at the startled girl. He was never the type to speak with any filter. He always spoke what was on his mind, which was perhaps also why he was often looked down upon and called an amateur.

Alana opened her mouth to thank him but halted, her heart picking up a fast pace, when she noticed the familiar locket sticking out of Leon's shirt. Due to the scorching heat, Leon had to undo the top three buttons of his shirt. Consequently, the locket was not visible before. And now it was.

Alana knew that locket all too well. She had seen a similar one around Eluscan's neck.

"Leon," Alana called, her voice as cold as a whetted knife.

Leon hummed, as he gazed back at Alana, the kind smile never leaving his face.

"What is your surname?"

"Oh, I am Leon Heirora," Leon answered, thinking that Alana had perhaps caught on to who he was, "You might know who I am right now. Actually, I had no intention of hiding my identity but well, just how you were in denial of believing me, I was too. I thought that you might give away the information to other humans about me being the second son of the Dragonesian King."

"So your brother really is Elsucan."

"Who?" Leon asked, not being able to perceive the context, "Oh right, Eluscan. Yes he is. Since he is paralyzed, I am expected to prepare for ascending the throne after Father. That is primarily the reason why I ran away. Had never been interested in ruling over such corrupted people with even corrupted laws."

A shattered laugh left Alana's throat and before Leon could comprehend the situation, he found himself thrown to the ground, with Alana positioned on top of him. And her precious dagger against his neck.

"You are the brother of my mother's fucking killer."