The Wrath of the Golden Belly

Layla jolted upright in bed, heart pounding. The voices outside her room reminded her of the men who had abducted her.

"They're back…?" she thought, hands trembling slightly.

She knew she was in unfamiliar territory, and despite her courage, a dull fear settled deep within her.

"Is this when they finally punish me?"

A sharp knock echoed against the door strong, commanding.

Without waiting for permission, a guard stepped in, followed by an imposing man.

Layla's eyes widened.

The man wore a lavish golden silk robe, embroidered with precious threads. His slightly rounded belly did nothing to diminish his commanding presence. A large ring gleamed on his finger, and his cold, calculating gaze swept the room.

— "Where is Oris?" he demanded, his voice loud and authoritative.

Layla didn't answer right away, still caught off guard by the sudden intrusion.

His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her from head to toe before stepping forward.

— "I won't repeat the question."

Layla swallowed hard.

"Oris…" she thought. So that's the prince's name.

She drew a slow breath, forcing herself to stay calm.

— "I… I don't know."

The man stared at her for a long moment before a mocking smirk twisted his lips.

— "Of course, you don't know. But you're under his protection, aren't you? A foreigner caught in the act, yet housed in the royal quarters… how interesting."

Layla clenched her fists.

Who was this man?

And why did his presence make her skin crawl?

Before she could speak, the familiar knight entered the room, his towering figure seeming to ease the tension for a brief instant. His muscular silhouette stood out beneath his armor, and his gaze carried a blend of caution and curiosity.

But where was the prince?

The knight inclined his head slightly toward the golden-clad man, his voice steady.

— "Prince Oris awaits you in the palace gardens."

At those words, the golden-bellied man's strange smile deepened an unsettling mix of contempt and challenge. As if this meeting was far more than a simple formality.

He turned to leave but paused, fixing Layla with his glacial stare.

He studied her, as if she were nothing more than dust beneath his boots. Then, with a cold finality, he said:

— "We are not finished."

He walked away, his heavy steps echoing like a distant threat.

Layla's heart clenched.

Why was all this happening over a single stolen vial?

She was still lost in thought when she realized the knight had not yet left. He stood silently, observing her. But unlike the golden man, his gaze carried neither disdain nor threat there was something… different.

A quiet kind of comfort.

He offered her a faint smile, barely perceptible, before following his master out the door.

The moment they disappeared, Layla collapsed back onto the mattress, overwhelmed by a tangle of fear, anger, and confusion.

— "Curse you all!" she muttered, punching her pillow before burying her face in it.

Xadran, the man known as Golden Belly for his gaudy opulence, marched toward the palace courtyard. His face was red with rage, lips twisted in a sneer.

Waiting for him, Oris stood tall and impassive, like a marble statue.

Without warning, Xadran snatched a sword from a nearby guard and pressed the cold blade against Oris's throat. His breath reeked of wine and the cruel satisfaction of a man who believed himself untouchable.

— "How dare you defy my orders?!" he growled, his voice a low storm.

But Oris did not flinch.

His calm gaze fixed on Xadran, his silent contempt cutting deeper than any weapon.

Then, in an even tone, he replied:

— "Since when am I bound to your orders? I warned you not to interfere with the public hospital."

Xadran's cheeks flushed with fury. His fingers tightened on the sword's hilt.

But before he could strike

Oris moved.

In a flash, too swift to be real, he wrenched the blade from Xadran's grip. Steel gleamed as the sword reversed its course no longer threatening Oris, but now hovering inches from Xadran's throat.

The golden prince's eyes flickered with fear.

No longer the all-powerful master, he was now just a man exposed, trembling before someone stronger. His chest heaved, his breath erratic.

Oris held him there, unwavering, his voice colder than the blade between them.

— "Do not test my patience."

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Then, with deliberate calm, Oris dropped the sword.

It clattered to the ground, echoing through the courtyard.

He turned his back on Xadran a calculated insult leaving his back exposed to a coward.

The ultimate show of dominance.

But Xadran did not move. He stood frozen, pale-faced, trapped in his own cowardice.

The blade lay forgotten at his feet.

Oris walked away without looking back.

And in that moment, the whole palace knew:

The man with the golden belly ruled with fear.

But Oris…

Oris ruled with power.