BURNING CROWN | A Dark Royal Romance

BURNING CROWN-Prologue

“I still remember… the day I was left behind among the laughter of other children. The day my entire world crumbled because the person I loved most turned away without looking back. And from that day on… I stopped believing in promises.”

The laughter of small children echoed across the wide courtyard, bathed in the soft afternoon sunlight.

The green lawn was filled with children of different ages — some chasing each other, others laughing happily. But in the large, round eyes of a six-year-old girl, there was only confusion… because she had never seen so many children gathered together like this before.

Her small hands gripped the hem of her mother’s skirt tightly. Her gaze, fixed on the beautiful and familiar face of her mother, was filled with innocent trust.

“Go on, Nicha… go play with the other kids,” her mother said gently.

The little girl shifted on her feet uncertainly, her heart pounding. She suddenly felt uneasy, though she didn’t understand why.

“What about you, Mama?” she asked softly. “You'll wait here, right?”

Her mother simply smiled gently back at her daughter, though something was hidden deep within. Her mother rested a warm hand on her head. “Mama will wait… and Mama will come back to take you home, sweetheart.”

The little girl believed her completely. She stepped away, glancing back over her shoulder at intervals, reassured that her mother was still standing right there. But as the children’s laughter drowned out everything else… her mother quietly slipped away.

When the little girl turned back once more… her mother was gone. Only a soft breeze passing through, and a cold, hollow emptiness that clung tight to her chest.

She didn’t know then… that her mother’s promise — “Mama will come back for you” — would never be kept.

…

The first night at the orphanage was silent and bitterly cold. The laughter that had filled the yard that afternoon was gone, replaced only by the soft sobs of some children who still longed for their families. The tiny girl curled up on an old wooden bed, a thin blanket unable to ease the chill in her chest.

She waited…

Waited for her mother to come back, to knock on the door and take her home. But the door stayed shut. And no one ever came.

Night after night, her quiet sobs gradually faded into silent tears. Her pillow grew damp until eventually, she stopped making any sound at all, until eventually she stopped making any sound at all — because she knew that no matter how loud she cried… no one would listen.

During the day, she sat alone in the corner of the room. She didn't run or play. She didn't join the other children. Her large, round eyes watched them from a distance. Sometimes a child would offer her a snack or invite her to play, but she would simply shake her head… and bury her face in her knees.

Her entire world was confined to an old blanket and a tear-dampened pillow. She hugged them every night, as though they were the only things still connecting her to the “home” that had vanished.

And in that silence…

The six-year-old girl slowly learned a truth too cruel for a small heart to bear — she hadn't been left behind temporarily.

She had been abandoned forever.

Every morning, sunlight streamed through the dormitory windows. The sounds of children running and calling to each other with bright voices echoed through the halls. But the small girl sat hugging her knees at the corner of the bed… staring out the window as if waiting for someone who would never come.

The nuns and caretakers tried to get her to join the other children. Sometimes they would say, “Come out and play, dear,” or hand her an old cloth doll. But she would simply take it in her arms, hold it tight, and remain silent.

Her isolation was most apparent at mealtimes. The other children laughed, chatted, and eagerly shared their stories. She would just eat quietly with her head down, then put her plate away and return to her spot. She didn't meet anyone's eyes. She didn't approach anyone.

At night, she would cry silently. Some nights, the child in the bed next to hers would secretly reach over and rub her back gently. But she would only sob… not daring to turn and meet their eyes. Because in her heart, she still believed that if she ever grew attached to anyone again, one day they would leave her too.

As time passed, the girl who had once been bright and cheerful changed completely. No trace of her former self remained. It was as though only a lifeless shadow of her former self remained. She shut herself away from the world, and no one could reach the aching heart within.