The opera was adorned with flowing banners, its marble steps glowing under the lantern lights. Though usually reserved for the elite, tonight, it welcomed all—a kingdom of masked strangers, where no name or title mattered.
One of the men, dressed in a dark robe, presented a card to the waiting servant, who bowed deeply and guided them to a private balcony.
The Crown Prince settled into his seat, his gaze sweeping over the grand stage below, where performers were preparing for their opening act. From this vantage point, he could see everything.
His fingers tapped against the chair's armrest as he watched the sea of masked figures below. His lips curled into a dark grin.
"You've spent a year hiding in the shadows," he mused silently. "Let's see how much longer you can escape me."
Beside him, his aide stiffened, glancing at his master with a look of barely concealed horror.
'A few days ago, an invitation arrived for the Crown Prince—from an unknown sender. It was for an opera, an event he had no prior interest in. And yet, to everyone's surprise, he accepted it without hesitation.'
'only the gods know what he's planning this time…'
The young prince's sharp gaze swept across the balconies, his eyes flickering with quiet calculation. He leaned back in his seat as the announcer stepped forward, voice echoing through the grand opera hall.
"Tonight's performance—Behind You."
A hush fell over the audience as the stage darkened. The curtains parted, revealing a dimly lit scene—a small, worn-down kitchen in a noble estate.
The play began with a young girl, a commoner born into poverty, taking her first steps into a world far removed from her own. Desperate to support her family, she had become a maid in a noble household.
"Do not make eye contact with the master," one of the older maids warned in a hushed, urgent voice. "Or you'll be swallowed whole."
Too young to understand the weight of those words, the girl kept her head down and started her work in the kitchen, scrubbing floors and carrying trays.
"Take this to the master's chambers," another maid instructed one evening, handing her a silver tray with a goblet of dark wine.
The girl hesitated, fingers tightening around the tray. "D-Do I have to go?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I told you not to meet his eyes," the maid beside her murmured coldly.
"But I never—" The girl stopped, confused. When did I?
Heart pounding, she approached the master's chambers and knocked softly.
The door creaked open.
A pale hand shot out, gripping her wrist in an iron hold. Before she could react, she was pulled inside.
The tray clattered to the floor, the goblet spilling red like blood across the marble.
Her breath hitched.
Standing before her was the man who had saved her from a fall days ago. The very same man who had caught her by the arm in the marketplace, his grip warm, his touch lingering.
But as she looked into his eyes now, she realized—
He had never let go.
—
"Boring," the aide muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he leaned against the chair.
The Crown Prince didn't respond immediately, his smirk barely visible under his mask.
"My lord, what's so interesting about this? It's just another typical romance story," the aide continued with a sigh.
The prince finally glanced at him, amusement flickering in his red eyes.
"The title," he murmured, tilting his head toward the stage. "'Behind You.'"
His smirk widened.
"It wouldn't be much of a play if the real story wasn't hiding just out of sight."
A sudden chill crawled up the aide's spine.
His fingers twitched.
Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder.
The master's lips twisted into something grotesque, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger.
"Why has such a beautiful maid been hidden away in my mansion?" he murmured, stepping closer.
The young maid took a shaky step back, gripping the tray so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"P-Please… let me go," she pleaded.
The master only laughed.
And then the door slammed shut.
No one came.
She screamed until her throat was raw, but the walls of the grand mansion swallowed her cries. Outside, life continued—servants bustled, the fire crackled, the world remained unchanged.
But inside that room, her world ended.
She struggled, nails clawing against the polished floor. The sound of fabric tearing, of skin scraping against wood, filled the silence. Crack. Crack. Her fingers left faint white scratches, her resistance nothing more than fragile marks that would soon be polished away, erased like she had never existed.
"Please—" Her voice broke.
He didn't stop.
And when it was over, she was still breathing, but she was not alive.
Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Empty. Distant. As if she had left her body behind.
The master rose, fixing his cuffs, and with a satisfied sigh, he turned away.
The servants outside never asked, never whispered. They averted their gazes when she stumbled out, the bruises stark against her pale skin, her steps hollow and unsteady.
"Serves her right," someone murmured in the audience.
"They warned her. She didn't listen."
"It's always the same with girls like that."
A soft chuckle rippled through the opera house.
The aide gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. He turned toward the Crown Prince, his voice a low whisper, thick with anger.
"My lord… how can they laugh at this?"
The prince tilted his head, red eyes still fixed on the stage.
"Because suffering is a spectacle, Ardan."
The aide flinched.
"She was powerless. A commoner. He was a noble. It doesn't matter whether she sought his attention or not. Once he decided to take her, the outcome was already written."
His smirk deepened.
"And people—" he gestured subtly to the whispering audience, "—people love a tragedy when it isn't their own."
A shiver ran down Ardan's spine.
The play continued, but his mind lingered on the girl's empty gaze.
And for the first time, he wondered—
Was the true horror in the story itself?
Or in the fact that no one cared?
The young maid, once a trembling girl, had long since lost the ability to cry.
Her body had been used until there was no pleasure left in it for her master. The moment she became pregnant, she was no longer a toy-she was an inconvenience.
And inconveniences were discarded.
Thrown out like rotting meat.
She had seen the world's cruelty before, but now she understood it. If she wanted to live, if she wanted to protect the child growing inside her, she had to run.
So she did.
Or at least, she tried.
She barely made it past the mansion's gates before hands seized her, dragging her back.
The master did not yell. He did not strike her himself.
He only smiled, sipping his wine as he gave the order.
"She had the audacity to run? Then break her."
The first blow sent her to the ground.
The second made her taste iron.
And the third-
The third shattered everything.
Pain bloomed deep inside her, a cruel and twisting agony. The child she had vowed to protect-her child-was being stolen from her.
She screamed.
It was not a scream of fear. It was something worse.
Something primal.
By the time her body went still, blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the stone floor like an offering to something dark.
"She's dead."
"Take her away."
They dragged her lifeless body through the mansion grounds, through the winding roads, through the silent night, until they reached the forest.
And they threw her away.
Like she had never existed.
Like she was nothing.
But she wasn't dead.
She awoke to the scent of damp earth and death. The pain was unbearable, a deep, hollow ache where her child should have been.
But she breathed.
And as long as she was breathing-she would not forgive. With the last of her strength, she dragged herself from the pit of corpses they had left her in.
She stumbled, crawled, bled her way back home.
And when she arrived-
There was nothing left.
Her childhood home was nothing but ashes. The streets were silent. Her family-gone.
Slaughtered.
Because they had dared to look for her.
Because they had loved her.
She fell to her knees in the ruins of her past, fingers digging into the dirt where her mother had once stood, where her father had once laughed, where her little brother had once called her name.
And in that moment, something inside her-
Broke.
She had died once before.
But now, she was reborn.
And the only thing left in her hollow chest-
Was vengeance.