The Crimson Heiress

It's either Sam or nothing

The gray morning…

The sun was not shining as usual.

Even the birds sang softly that day,

as if the world itself had grown weary of witnessing Mira’s sorrow.

Inside the palace hall, the air was heavy.

Her father stood near the window, his back rigid, his silence colder than anger.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of a man who had long forgotten tenderness.

“I have lost everything in the town of Ain Al-Jibal —

my reputation… my money… my strength!

And tomorrow… you will return, accompanied by Nara.”

Mira felt her chest tighten.

“But, father…” she said quietly, struggling to steady her voice,

“you are asking for the impossible.

Prince Sam loves Nara. His heart does not see me.”

His gaze hardened instantly.

“I don’t care!” he snapped.

“Aren’t you a woman?!”

The words struck deeper than any blade.

Mira rose abruptly, disbelief and fury burning in her eyes.

“What do you mean by being a woman?

To seduce him?! To sell myself?!

I will never sacrifice my dignity for an illusion —

for a man who does not even see me!”

From the corner of the room, her stepmother’s voice slithered softly:

“Look at her…

her voice has grown loud.”

Mira turned toward her, her eyes blazing.

“A loud voice is not insolence,

but the echo of my dignity being trampled before you.”

The silence that followed was brief — and fatal.

A sharp sound tore through the room.

Her father’s hand had already fallen.

“To save our name!” he roared.

“Do you understand what awaits us?!

We will vanish among the nobles.

We will remain servants… servants to our enemies!”

Tears flooded Mira’s eyes.

“Are you truly my father?” she cried, her voice breaking.

“There are a thousand paths to salvation, a thousand exits!

Why must I be the sacrifice?

He will never love me… please, understand!”

But mercy did not live in his heart.

“The discussion is over.”

His voice was ice.

“Tomorrow… to Nara’s palace.

You will stay there.

And you will make Sam fall in love with you —

whether you want it or not.”

He turned away, then paused.

And with a cruelty that shattered what little strength she had left, he added:

“If I had been blessed with a son…

he would have been better than you.”

The door closed behind him.

Mira did not move.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, yet her eyes… burned with something far more dangerous than sorrow.

In the corner of her room, she finally collapsed.

She covered her face with her trembling hands and wept —

not as a noblewoman, not as a daughter…

but as the little girl her father had long ago lost in the crowd,

still searching for a chest to hold her… and finding none.

Suddenly…

Slow footsteps disturbed the silence.

An old maid approached, her face carved with years,

but her eyes glowing with a warmth untouched by time.

Without a word, she bent down and embraced Mira.

“Don’t cry, my little one…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Your mother was a great and pure woman.

And you resemble her far more than you know.”

Mira lifted her tear-stained face.

“Prince Sam is no longer that boy,” the old woman continued gently.

“He has become a man.

But you…

You are still the girl I promised your mother to protect.”

Her arms tightened around Mira.

“Whichever path you choose,

whichever fate you embrace…

I will walk beside you.

Even if its end is fire —

you will not walk alone.”

Before Mira could speak, a young maid stepped forward, her voice filled with emotion:

“And we too… all of us stand with you.

We know who you are, even if the world forgets.”

Mira looked up.

Behind the door stood the servants — silent, tearful, unwavering.

And then…

Her tears burst forth again.

Not the tears of weakness.

But the tears of someone who had finally found hearts that refused to abandon her.

Time passed like a wounded breath.

In Nara’s palace, the world seemed cruelly different.

Roses adorned the entrance, golden light danced upon the walls,

and Nara herself awaited her like joy given human form.

“Miraaa!”

She ran toward her, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

“Finally… you’re back. I missed you!”

Mira tried to smile.

She pressed her lips, lifted her brows…

But sorrow cannot be disguised from eyes that truly love.

Despite the warmth, despite the beauty…

Something in Mira’s gaze did not belong to that place.

Later, near the window, silence consumed her once more.

Questions circled her mind like restless shadows.

Is this love?

Or merely escape?

The more she searched her heart,

the more terrifying the truth became.

“I didn’t love him…”

The whisper barely existed.

“I was running away with him —

not to him.”

Sam was not salvation.

Not love.

Only a fragile window she had opened to breathe from her prison.

For when the heart is wounded…

It does not seek love.

It seeks survival.

She got into the carriage and sat in heavy silence.

Nara bid her farewell with a gentle smile.

But Mira…

Mira was bidding farewell to her childhood,

to pretense,

to weakness.

“I will not return to that palace… not tonight.”

The guard looked at her, startled.

“To where, my lady?”

Mira’s eyes were steady for the first time.

“To anywhere no one knows me.

Take me to the villages.”

The carriage rolled between hills and fields,

children running barefoot, sheep following their mothers,

wildflowers dancing to the tunes of the wind…