Whispers In The Rose Palace

Chapter 5: Whispers In The Rose Palace

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Asharic's POV

The soft warmth of morning lingered in the air, drifting in from the open balcony windows. A gentle breeze swept across the chamber, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers from the palace gardens.

Asharic sat upright in bed, his crimson eyes fixed on the mirror standing across the room.

He had been staring at it for some time now.

Trying to adapt.

Trying to understand.

This doesn't make any sense...

Even after lying dormant for over ten years, this body was still in shape... lean, sharp, unnaturally preserved.

Golden hair.

Blood-red eyes.

A terrifying mix of beauty and danger.

He leaned forward slightly, dragging a hand through his hair as he exhaled.

No matter how many times he looked, it still felt strange.

Alien.

But... before I lose myself again in thought, I should take a look outside.

Get a sense of where I am.

From the memories, this should be the King Palace...

The Ashkar Kingdom... one of the five empires, and by far the wealthiest and most powerful of them all.

Many territories, vast lands, and ancient bloodlines bowed to its rule.

At the heart of the Askar Kingdom lay its greatest jewel... the Royal Capital.

A sprawling, magnificent city teeming with life... merchants shouting through the marketplace, nobles gliding through marble streets in gilded carriages, and countless banners fluttering from tall spires. It was the most developed region in the entire kingdom. A center of trade, power, and ambition.

And at the very core of that thriving capital stood the Royal Palace.

A fortress of grandeur and tradition... with towering walls, endless corridors, and chambers bathed in gold. Within its walls were the personal domains of the ruling bloodline... the King's Palace, the two Queen Palaces, and the smaller palaces granted to consorts, heirs, and honored guests.

So this is supposed to be... the King Palace.

Then, let's go see outside.

The handle felt cold beneath my palm.

For a moment, I hesitated.

This was the first time I was going to step out of this room… after more than ten years.

Not in my past life.

Not in some dream.

But now... in this body… in this world.

I took a breath.

And opened the door.

Warm sunlight spilled into the chamber, flooding the marbled floor and brushing against my skin like the softest silk.

I stepped outside.

The corridor was long and quiet, dressed in a thick, luxurious red carpet that ran endlessly forward like a royal river.

Golden fixtures lined the walls... carved dragons, hanging lamps shaped like blooming lotuses, high pillars engraved with sacred runes and delicate vines.

Above me, the ceiling arched high like a cathedral, filled with swirling patterns of crystal and glass that sparkled as the sunlight struck them.

The King's Palace.

Just as I remembered.

No... cleaner. Brighter. Still full of energy… yet completely, unnaturally, silent.

I walked slowly down the corridor, each step measured and steady. The walls were lined with ancient paintings... some of battles, others of kings past, their eyes watching me as I passed.

Once, this place had been full of life. Servants, guards, nobles… their laughter, their footsteps, their whispers had filled these halls.

Now there was nothing.

No one.

Only silence, and the faint echo of my own breathing.

It wasn't abandonment.

It felt deliberate.

Someone had made sure this wing of the palace remained empty… yet immaculately maintained.

Not a single speck of dust. Not a crack in the glass.

As if the palace itself refused to forget its king.

Golden-framed mirrors, vases carved from emerald and obsidian, intricate chandeliers floating gently overhead with the help of soft magic.

Even the wall sconces were embedded with tiny spirit crystals that glowed faintly, humming with aura.

Every corner whispered of wealth.

Of power.

Of a kingdom built not only on dragons... but gold.

Askar truly is terrifyingly rich.

But damn it…

This pain...

It's still not going away.

The dull throb pulsed through the back of my skull. Like a needle lodged deep behind the eyes. Every few steps, the world swayed just a little more than it should.

But my legs kept moving.

This body… still walked perfectly. The muscles remembered.

It didn't look like it belonged to someone who had spent a decade lying in bed.

A miracle, really.

Or just blood.

I need to figure out what to do.

If the memories are correct… then somewhere in this palace... at the very end of it... there's a room.

A sealed chamber said to house a dragon.

No one's allowed near it. Only the Emperor.

The last memory I have…

He went inside that room.

But I don't know what happened after.

Only that when he came out... everything changed.

If I want to understand this body… this kingdom… this power…

Then I need to go there.

Right now.

And find out what's waiting for me inside.

I stopped in front of the door.

It was… enormous. And ominous.

Unlike the others I'd passed... those gilded with cold gold, polished and elegant... this one looked like it didn't belong in this palace… or even in this world.

Dark. Pitch black. Its surface looked like it was carved from scorched stone, covered in strange markings that twisted and curved in patterns I couldn't read.

They weren't decorative... they felt like warnings.

Just standing here... the air was heavier. My breathing slowed without me realizing it.

I raised my hand and placed it against the door.

Cold.

But not like the morning breeze... this was the cold of something long dead.

What is this made of?

I traced one of the carvings with my finger. It pulsed beneath my touch... faint, but definitely there.

Almost like it was... alive. Watching.

This door... it's huge. Looks like it weighs more than a carriage.

And this body... even if it feels better... it hasn't moved in over a decade.

Can I even open this thing?

I paused.

Then sighed.

"...Oh well. Let's look inside."

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Rose Palace

The air was warm, fragrant, and still. Gentle sunlight spilled through sheer curtains, casting soft golden lines across polished floors and silken furniture.

The sweet scent of blooming roses lingered, carried by the mild summer breeze drifting in from the open balcony.

A man walked down the main corridor of the Rose Palace as if it belonged to him. No hesitation. No fear.

Each step echoed with quiet arrogance... the echo of boots on marble. His long crimson robe trailed behind him like flowing fire, lined with gold embroidery that shimmered in the light.

Beneath it, his dark attire bore noble insignias stitched in gold thread... the mark of royal blood.

Guards stepped aside and bowed. Maids offered quiet greetings, lowering their heads, avoiding his eyes.

He walked with a bouquet of freshly cut roses in one hand... a delicate contrast to the power that radiated from his very presence.

And following just a step behind him, a woman trailed like a shadow.

Her blue hair fell straight to her hips, smooth and untamed. Her outfit, though minimal, bore the clear design of an elite knight... sleek and form-fitting, designed for speed and danger.

Beauty and menace in perfect balance.

Neither of them spoke.

Their destination was clear.

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Master Room, Rose Palace

A room of muted elegance.

Curtains drawn halfway, allowing only the softest light to kiss the floor. Ornate walls painted in subtle rose tones, and a small round table set with delicate teaware.

Mireth sat with her back straight, one hand resting lightly on the table, the other lifting a porcelain cup to her lips.

She sipped her tea in silence.

Across from her, standing with crossed arms and a burning expression, was the head maid... a woman older, hardened by time and duty. Her voice rang out, loud and bitter.

"Who do you think you are?"

Her tone was sharp. Indignant.

"You've been gone for years. I've been running this place while you were enjoying your time in the King's Palace... and now you return, demanding authority over the staff? Over the management? Over the budget?"

The porcelain cup clinked softly as Mireth set it down.

She did not look up. Her face remained calm. Cold. Still.

"You forget your place," the maid hissed. "You forget what you are. A commoner. Lucky enough to catch the King's eye, nothing more. You should have remained silent and grateful."

Still, no response.

"But now you come thinking this is yours? You have no bloodline. You are not noble. You are..."

A pause.

Something in Mireth's expression shifted.

Her eyes dropped slightly. A sadness passed over her features... fleeting, but deep.

"...Do you think I wanted to be born a commoner?"

Her voice was soft. Low. Carried more pain than anger.

"...Do you think I wanted the King to notice me?"

She raised her eyes now. And in them was sadness... not weakness, but weight.

"You speak of rules. Then perhaps you should remember them."

A silence fell.

And then...

Soft footsteps outside the door.

A knock.

Both the maid and the third wife fell silent.

Mireth turned toward the door, sadness still lingering in her expression.

"Come in," she said quietly.