King Sinnabad and Empress Lola returned to the grand palace hall, the heartwood doors swinging open with a solemn groan. Every conversation died instantly. Every breath froze.
All eyes followed them.
Lola walked back to her seat with the grace of a moonlit queen, settling elegantly beside her son—the whispered son of calamity, the little devil who could topple a kingdom with a single tantrum.
Josh didn't acknowledge the return of the king. His small, innocent-looking fingers drummed calmly on his seat… the only sign of a brewing storm.
King Sinnabad lowered himself onto his throne briefly… then rose again, clearing his throat with theatrical weight.
"I have had a deep conversation with the Empress…" he began, letting the word "deep" linger, his eyes dragging over Lola with meaning that made several princes shift uncomfortably.
Gasps flickered through the hall.
But Sinnabad pressed on, puffing out his chest and allowing his potbelly shake ever so slightly.
"I have come to a conclusion," he announced, spreading his arms grandly. "I and the queen shall marry, and together we will expand the frontiers of Sanaria. With our combined strength, we can enlarge our domain, annex new lands, and raise our kingdom to Grade One—matching the size of the Empress's former empire."
His voice boomed like a merchant declaring profit. Every word was dripping with ambition and ego.
But one thing he conveniently left out…
He didn't mention that Josh had been given the final say.
Unfortunately for him…
Josh did not plan to be quiet.
Before anyone else could breathe, before the shock could settle—
Josh stood up.
His tiny frame rose slowly, deliberately, like a volcano lifting its head.
"No."
The word cracked through the hall like lightning tearing open the sky.
Silence exploded.
The crowd froze.
The princes stiffened.
The five generals exchanged tense glances.
The king blinked once. Twice.
His left eye developed a twitch.
Josh lifted his chin, hands behind his back like a seasoned emperor.
"My mother," he began, voice ringing with icy clarity far beyond his age, "will not marry a big, fat pig like you."
Several people choked. A few fainted. A servant dropped a tray.
Prince Chalibad's mouth fell open.
Josh continued without mercy.
"Instead," he announced, pointing a small but commanding finger, "I propose my mother marries the eldest crown prince, Prince Chalibad—who, unlike you, has wisdom and is deserving of a throne."
The insult hit the king like a flaming spear.
This wasn't a slap.
This was a public execution of his pride.
Not only had Josh rejected his proposal—
He had chosen one of Sinnabad's own sons as the replacement groom.
The king's entire body trembled.
First his jaw locked.
Then his neck stiffened.
Then his hands—veins bulging—clenched the armrest of his throne until the wood cracked beneath his grip.
His eyes widened, twitching uncontrollably.
He couldn't speak.
Not because he didn't want to.
But because if he opened his mouth—
he wasn't sure if words or blood-curdling screams would come out.
Across the hall, the princes reacted chaotically:
Chalibad nearly fainted.
Movibad grinned like a man witnessing the best play of the century.
Delibad hid behind his robe, whispering prayers.
Comibad pinched his nose bridge, sensing disaster.
Nahibad stiffened, ready to grab anyone who fainted nearby.
General Naze…
from the shadows…
slowly uncurled his fingers from his sword hilt,
his eyes glowing with silent approval—
Josh had chosen violence.
And now…
Sanaria would burn for it.
For a long, terrible moment, King Sinnabad did not move.
He stood there—frozen, trembling—like a desert lion trying to decide whether to roar or tear its prey limb from limb. His jaw worked uselessly, his chest expanding and collapsing in short, violent bursts.
Then—
"ENOUGH!"
His voice exploded through the hall like a sandstorm breaking against stone.
The golden chandeliers trembled. Several of the younger princes ducked instinctively. Even the sand-constructed servants paused mid-movement, as if shocked into stillness.
Sinnabad's face darkened from red to a dangerous purple. His nostrils flared so violently it looked like smoke might shoot out from them any second.
"HOW DARE YOU—" he barked, pointing a shaking finger at Josh but stopping just short of actually completing the sentence, forcing the words back into his throat as though even he couldn't decide what accusation to commit to.
He turned away, pacing with thunderous steps, his heavy sandals slamming the marble floor.
"An… an insult—in my own court—before my own people—!"
He hissed and growled between every breath, unable to form a full sentence without choking on fury.
He spun back again toward the hall, cape whipping behind him.
"By the gods—by the sands—this is—!"
His fist slammed into the stone pillar beside the throne, sending cracks running up its side.
The entire hall held its breath.
He wasn't finished.
Sinnabad's eyes were bloodshot, wild, darting between his princes, the generals, and Lola—avoiding Josh's gaze like it was a blade that might pierce him.
"This is an affront—a mockery—an unforgivable—"
He stopped again, grinding his teeth hard enough to be heard.
Even in his rage, something restrained him.
Something made him hesitate on every final word.
He would not declare judgment.
Not yet.
His hands shook—not with fear—but with the effort of keeping himself from doing something catastrophic on impulse.
Finally, he roared again:
"THIS COURT—THIS HALL—THIS KING—WILL NOT BE MADE A FOOL OF!"
The silence that followed was deep enough to suffocate.
Every eye was wide.
Every throat tight.
The king's rage hung in the air like a blade suspended by a single brittle thread—
still unbroken,
still undecided,
still waiting to fall.
Prince Josh stepped forward with the calmness of a seasoned emperor—not a five-year-old child. His small hands folded neatly behind his back, chin raised just slightly, eyes fixed on the king with a gaze that contained a strange blend of innocence and ancient authority.
The entire hall felt the air shift.
"King Sinnabad," Josh began, voice smooth and steady—deceptively polite.
"Obviously, you're pissed."
Some of the princes gasped.
A general choked on his breath.
Even Lola stiffened.
But the boy continued, unbothered.
"Let me suggest something better."
He clicked his tongue softly, as though disappointed by the king's lack of imagination.
"How about we organize a competition… open to every single man who desires my mother's hand in marriage?"
A ripple of whispers shot through the hall.
"Anyone may enter. Even your sons…" Josh added casually, eyes drifting toward Chalibad, who nearly jumped out of his seat.
"Even your nobles…"
He looked at the shocked ministers.
"And of course—you, King Sinnabad may join as well."
A mocking smile pulled at the corners of the boy's lips.
"But since you're… old and busy—"
He tilted his head, voice dripping with innocent cruelty—
"—you may choose a representative to fight on your behalf. If your representative wins, then…"
He shrugged lightly,
"you can have my mother."
The hall shattered into gasps.
King Sinnabad's mouth fell open. He could only stare.
Because in that moment, the child didn't speak like a boy.
He spoke like a monarch who had won wars long before this room ever existed.
Sinnabad's fury evaporated—not because he forgave—but because he suddenly felt… played.
Manipulated.
Like the child was herding him into a trap he couldn't see.
The king's heart hammered painfully.
His palms began to sweat.
Were these words truly from a five-year-old child?
His confusion deepened, twisting into a strange fear.
What game is this little devil playing?
Why create a competition?
Is he planning something…?
Sinnabad swallowed hard. His anger no longer knew where to go.
He felt foolish for his earlier outburst, foolish for letting a child provoke him, foolish for underestimating the Empress's son.
And yet… he could not withdraw.
He was a king—watched by thousands.
Josh's eyes bored into him, gentle… but sharp enough to slice the desert in half.
The king forced a shaky breath.
…This child wants to give me a heart attack, he thought miserably.
If this continues, I will truly lose my mind.
He still did not understand the prince's true intention.
But one thing he knew:
He was no longer dealing with a mere child—but with a dangerous mind wrapped in a small body.