The massive, blood-red magic circle had whisked them away to a place where even the air felt foreign, nothing like the city Aya knew. It gnawed at her, a cold knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.
Not knowing what to do and fearing that home was now out of reach, she clung to her only hope for survival: the bodyguard services of Slacard Fickliet.
"If you can't pay up, I'm seizing all your assets," he threatened coldly.
"Wh-what?! No! Don't you dare. I'll pay, I promise! But... what was your name again?"
Aya squinted at the business card. Slacard Fickliet.
"Sla... Fi? What a weird name. I've never heard anything like it. Why is it so hard to say?" she grumbled.
"Just call me Ficky from now on," he snapped. "Now move it. We aren't spending the night in this forest."
Ficky kept his eyes peeled on the canopy as they walked, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl. He was muttering under his breath, searching for something. Aya followed closely, her head darting back and forth, jumping at every shadow.
"Hey, is it really okay to just keep walking like this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. She was terrified that those assassins would pop out of the bushes at any second.
"You're pathetic when you're scared," Ficky remarked dryly. "Why don't you try being quiet for once?"
"Hey! I'm scared because I have no idea where I am! And—!"
Before she could finish, a roar cut through the trees.
"FREEZE RIGHT THERE!"
A squad of men in suits of armor swarmed them, leveling spears and swords at their chests. They looked ready to strike at the slightest twitch.
"Who are you and where did you come from? Why have you trespassed into His Majesty's domain without a permit?" one guard demanded, shoving the tip of his spear inches from Ficky's throat. Aya scrambled behind Ficky's back, though she was already surrounded from behind as well.
"I don't think we're from around here," Ficky said calmly. "We're just lost. Can you help us out?"
"Not from this world? Preposterous!"
Aya panicked as the blades drew closer, the cold steel nearly grazing her skin. One more inch and they'd be skewered.
"Wait! Just a second! We really aren't from here. Probably. Someone... someone teleported us!" Aya pleaded, hoping for a shred of mercy.
"They won't listen, you klutz," Ficky muttered, his gaze hardening as he stared the guards down.
The soldiers shared a silent look before finally lowering their weapons.
"Fine. Have it your way. But you're going to the underground."
Their lives were spared—for now.
Bound at the wrists, Aya and Ficky were marched through a strange land. It was a place of vibrant flora, with a magnificent palace rising from a field of blooming flowers. But they were led past the beauty, toward a dark drainage entrance beside the palace. They were taken underground, where rows of iron bars held prisoners who looked like they didn't have much time left.
The Underground Prison.
"Hey, Mr. Bodyguard Ficky... are we going to die? Why aren't you doing something? I thought you were strong!"
"Are you asking me to kill them? You should have said so earlier," Ficky replied nonchalantly.
"Th-that's not what I meant!"
They were shoved into a cell together without a fight. The guard who locked the door let out a taunting smirk.
"You won't last long in here," he sneered, then glanced at Aya. "Well, maybe the girl will survive."
"I don't particularly care," Ficky chimed in.
"But could you tell me where we are? I'm trying to get paid—I mean, I'm trying to get this girl home."
"Hey! You just admitted it's all about the money!" Aya shrieked.
"This is the Kingdom of Aurora. Welcome to my domain. As for me, allow me to introduce myself: King Gorgeous VIII!"
A man with a long, sweeping mustache suddenly appeared, answering Ficky's question. It was hard to believe a king would visit the underground prison personally. The guards immediately snapped to attention, saluting him with a thunderous greeting.
"You. What is your name?" the King asked, looking at Aya.
"I'm Aya Kruger. Are you the ruler of this... strange place?" she asked, surprisingly blunt.
"Indeed. As I said, Aurora is mine. I didn't come here to interrogate you. I came to ask: do you have a lover?"
"N-no. But... more importantly, Your Majesty! I need to know how we can get back to our world!" Aya tried to sound polite and serious, her eyes wide with hope.
"Before I answer that, I have a request. How would you like to be my daughter-in-law?"
"Eh?"
Aya's jaw dropped. Of all the things she expected in a foreign world, a marriage proposal wasn't on the list.
"You see, my son is... a bit eccentric. No woman wants anything to do with him. I've chosen you to be his partner so he can carry on the royal bloodline."
The old King was practically begging now, but Aya's face said it all: Absolutely not. "Or perhaps you already have a partner? Though I suppose I don't really care. Unless... are you someone's slave?" the King asked, raising an eyebrow at Ficky.
Aya looked at Ficky, then back at the King. She lowered her head for a moment, thinking fast as she stared at the wrinkled old man.
"If I were a slave... would that mean I couldn't marry your son?" she asked seriously.
"Well, of course not. I would have to find another way to repay your query," the King mused.
Aya's eyes lit up. She turned to Ficky, clutching the prison bars with a desperate, pleading look. She bit her lip, praying he would catch on to the plan.
Ficky sighed. He was reluctant, but he knew what she wanted.
"Anything for the paycheck," he muttered.
"King!" Ficky announced, his voice ringing with a fake sense of authority.
"Unfortunately, this girl is my slave!"
Aya nearly pumped her fists in the air, relieved to have escaped a forced marriage. But her joy was short-lived.
King Gorgeous VIII turned to one of his maid.
"Check her," he commanded. "Verify if she bears a slave mark as he claims!"