Chapter 1The Weak Princess
Whispers followed her like shadows.
“Look, she’s awake…”
“The useless princess?”
“Keep your voice down—what if she hears you?”
A faint smirk formed on her lips as she walked through the long palace corridor, her steps slow and graceful yet calculated. Every movement was deliberate. Every glance, sharp.
So this was her new world.
Gold pillars. Polished floors. Servants bowing with forced respect. Nobles hiding their ridicule behind fans and fake smiles.
Disgusting.
She had ruled a world of criminals, where betrayal was honest and survival was earned. But here, everything was wrapped in lies.
“Your Highness.”
A maid bowed nervously in front of her, trembling slightly, unable to meet her eyes.
“How is your health today?”
She stopped walking.
“My health?” she repeated softly, her voice calm but carrying a chilling weight.
The maid swallowed. “Y-Yes, Your Highness…”
Without warning, she stepped closer, invading the girl’s space.
“If I were truly weak…” she whispered near the maid’s ear, “…would you be this afraid of me?”
The maid’s face turned pale.
“I—I’m not afraid, Your Highness!”
A soft laugh escaped her lips.
Liar.
Everyone here was afraid. They just didn’t understand why yet.
She straightened and continued walking as if nothing had happened, but her mind was already working—observing, analyzing, planning.
This body was weak. Fragile. Slow.
A liability.
But strength was never just physical.
And her mind had always been her greatest weapon.
The grand dining hall was already filled when she arrived. Nobles, ministers, and members of the royal family sat around the long table. The moment she stepped inside, the room fell into a brief silence before whispers and faint laughter resumed.
“They actually let her out of bed?”
A voice dripping with mockery reached her ears.
“Oh my, you should be resting,” the Second Princess said sweetly. “Your body might not handle too much movement.”
Light laughter followed.
She ignored them.
Without a word, she walked forward and took her seat, her expression calm and unreadable.
At the head of the table sat the king. His presence was heavy, commanding. His eyes briefly flickered toward her, cold and distant.
No warmth.
No concern.
So this was her father.
Pathetic.
Food was served, yet no one spoke to her. No one acknowledged her existence, just like the memories said.
The forgotten princess.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then she spoke.
“I heard there was an incident in the eastern territory.”
Her voice sliced through the noise, and suddenly, everything went quiet.
The Second Princess frowned. “That’s not something you should concern yourself with.”
She slowly turned her gaze toward her, sharp and dangerous.
“Then who should?” she asked.
A minister cleared his throat. “It’s just a minor rebellion, Your Highness. Nothing worth troubling you.”
“Minor?” she interrupted, her lips curving slightly.
“In my experience, rebellions don’t start small.”
The king’s hand paused.
For the first time, he truly looked at her.
“Continue,” he said.
The single word shifted the entire atmosphere.
She leaned back slightly, her composure effortless, but her eyes gleamed with something darker.
“If you ignore it now, it grows,” she said calmly. “Fear spreads. Loyalty cracks. And before you know it… you lose control.”
Silence filled the hall.
No one laughed this time.
The king studied her carefully. “Who told you this?”
She met his gaze without hesitation.
“No one.”
A lie, but a convincing one.
Because how could a weak, sheltered princess possibly understand rebellion?
Unless she wasn’t weak at all.
The king slowly placed his utensils down.
“Leave us.”
The command was absolute.
One by one, the nobles and servants left the hall, their eyes filled with curiosity and unease as they glanced at her.
Soon, only the two of them remained.
“You’ve changed,” the king said.
She smiled faintly.
“People change.”
“No,” he replied. “Not like this.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then his voice lowered.
“Who are you?”
A dangerous question.
But instead of fear, she laughed softly, cold and amused.
“Does it matter?” she said, tilting her head slightly.
Her gaze sharpened.
“I’m still your daughter… aren’t I?”
The king said nothing, but the doubt in his eyes had already begun to grow.
And she saw it.
Good.
Let them question her.
Let them fear her.
Because this weak princess was only the beginning.
Soon, the entire kingdom would understand.
The Mafia Queen had returned.
