"Where am I?"
"Are those my parents?"
"What's going on?"
"I...."
Faces blurred. A woman was crying. A warm hand reached out to him-
He saw the light
A fair-skinned 16-year-old boy named James, standing six feet tall, had his hair neatly slicked back. He was dressed in a black, Burmese-style traditional combat outfit, and his sharp golden eyes stood out strikingly. He slowly opened his gentle eyes. His chest sore for a moment, then settled. He carefully observed his surroundings.
The echoes of the dream faded like mist, gently replaced by the soft sound of chimes. In a grand and elegant hall, golden candle lights shimmered, reflecting off the brilliant chandeliers above it. A long banquet table stretched across the polished marble floor, adorned with exquisite dishes that shone alongside the presence of noble guests.
He blinked and reached for a nearby wine glass; the wine inside was glowing faintly red in the light.
—Yet the sensation of the dream still lingered, like a weight pressing behind his eyes.
Moments later, a small voice emerged.
"James''
Soft, yet familiar.
She wore a silvery-blue dress, and with her pale white eyes, her presence was utterly mesmerizing.
"Please, follow me, James."
Without protest or inquiry, James stepped out of the grand hall in silence. They headed outside the hall toward small building, each painted white with golden trim. Inside each building was only a neatly arranged setup with four chairs and a writing desk. The roofs were decorated with stained glass, allowing the soft glow of night light from the sky to shine brilliantly inside.
A cool breeze passed through the small building, gently brushing against them. The stars in the quiet sky twinkled like watchful deities gazing down.
"James, the sky tonight is really beautiful, isn't it?"
At first, James said nothing and simply stared up at the sky. The silence was not cold—it was more like a silent search.
"James, don't you remember me?"
James lowered his head; he looked confused.
"Sorry, I'm Drolma.
I thought you'd remember me."
"Are you the Princess Drolma? Sorry, I didn't recognize you right away."
"You've grown much more beautiful than when you were younger, Princess."
"You're telling me I'm beautiful, so you don't recognize me—I can understand that.
But don't you remember telling me not to call you 'Princess!!'?"
"But Princess Drolma..."
"Whatever happens, if you call me like this again, I'll get upset, James."
"…I understand now, Princess... sorry, I mean Drolma."
At the end of the talk -
The wind gently pushed through the nearby trees. The stars shone softly, and time seemed to slow down at its own pace.
The palace for ceremonies was located far from the main palace, in the mountain town of Zhakrime, which had a population of about two hundred people. The mountain floated lightly above the earth.
"James, don't you remember what you said when we were little?" Drolma said at the end of her sentence.
It felt as though someone was following them from behind.
He was dressed in purple garments, his gaze sharp and unyielding. He was tall and beautiful face, but his voice carried no warmth. His hair was neither short nor long, and his green eyes glimmered with intensity.
"Princess Drolma... I am Ngawang, the youngest son of the royal Lhundrak family."
"I saw you leaving the palace, so I followed, Your Highness."
"Also, Princess, you really shouldn't be alone in a place like this with him.
Let's return to the hall together."
As Ngawang invited Princess Drolma to return to the palace with him, James suddenly grabbed her hand.
"Drolma, we haven't finished our conversation yet.
Please don't let him interrupt."
The night had calmed again—but this time, with tension in the air. As the wind settled, the atmosphere around the building grew dense, making it difficult for an ordinary person to even breathe.
The moment James turned to face Ngawang, his golden eyes sharpened.
"You don't have the right to interfere between me and Drolma just because you're the youngest son of the Lhunrak family, Ngawang."
Ngawang, being the youngest son of the Lhunrak family, was looked down upon by everyone. Because of this, he resented the family and often responded with anger. Being dismissed and treated as insignificant just because he was the youngest was what he hated most.
"James, don't forget that where you stand now is very close to the power of the Lhunrak family...
... And no one can say when someone will fall from the mountain and die, James."
"Ha… ha… ha…"
James laughed, his laughter echoing through the calm, peaceful surroundings. But the people inside the hall didn't even notice.
"Ngawang, you're such a joke. I think you must be the court jester."
Princess Drolma was at a loss, unable to decide what to do next.
James, standing to her right, showed no sign of easing up, and Ngawang on her left kept advancing steadily, neither of them giving any indication of backing down. The tension between them was growing.As she wondered how to navigate the tense moment, the princess noticed the crowd in the hall subtly shifting their attention toward something, and she realized that even the background music had begun to change their rhythm.
"James, I think the King is about to give his birthday speech. Let's head inside."
"Lord Ngawang, please come with us as well."
Princess Drolma, who was honored as "The Great of All Green Taras," calmly stepped in between the two as they exchanged sharp words. Her composed presence was enough to divert their attention before the situation escalated.
Princess Drolma received the divine title "Tara" at the age of ten, following a sacred light-bestowal ritual. By the age of twelve, she became the only enlightened prodigy ever to be revered by the people as "The Great of All Green Taras."
(Should you wish to understand the "The Great of All Green Taras," her story shall be unveiled in the chapters to come.)
Before the princess could even finish calling his name, Ngawang immediately responded,
"I will come with you, Your Highness. Thank you... for inviting me like this..…..…....."
-
"Princess Drolma, I'll go after a while."
James said, then stepped out of the small building.
The birthday event ended peacefully without any issues after the king's speech.
After the festival, on his way home, James noticed something amiss—he sensed someone's hostile gaze fixed on his back, as if they intended to kill him.
Since James was young, he had often been subjected to such hostile stares, so he was well aware of them. Even now, he knew that someone was trying to kill him.
Because of that, he decided not to return to the house together with the others.Choosing a place where no one would be around, he quietly made his way. Upon reaching a certain spot, James said,
"Still hiding? Looks like I'm the only one here. Don't be afraid—just come out."
The attackers who had been following him were taken aback by his words.
"He noticed our presence?!"
"So there must be a reason they call you the 'Nyimai Demon'."
"Do you even know who we are?"
James showed no interest in their loud remarks.
Whoever they were didn't matter to him—because in his mind, they were already as good as gone.
"Hey kid, don't bother trying to run—you're not getting out of this alive."
"Just accept your death quietly."
A chorus of different voices spoke to James, coming from a group of around twelve assassins who had surrounded him.