“Back then, I cut off one of your fingers and sent you to be made into a human pig. Now you gouge out my heart as your betrothal gift.”
- On your wedding night, you lift the tyrant’s mask. The scar on his throat is exactly like that of the mute servant who saved you as a child.
- Trembling, you touch his back. The word “dog,” which you branded there yourself, should be there, but in its place is a phoenix totem. (The mute servant died long ago. The tyrant is an impostor who took his place.)
- He grips your throat and laughs softly. “Princess, this game of pretending to be someone else ends now.” The corpse of the real mute servant crawls out from beneath the bed, its right hand missing three fingers, the token of affection you gave him all those years ago.
