MDL | Chapter 1.4

Fortunately for our wizard, just as he was lost in that wish, the prince’s horse snorted softly and stamped its hooves in dissatisfaction, kicking up dried grass and dust that tickled the wizard’s nose.

“Pff, pff, pff… Achoo!”

The transparent cloak couldn’t muffle the sound of a sneeze. The wizard quickly covered his mouth, but it was far too late.

“Who’s there?!” the prince called out sharply.

The wizard glared at the innocent horse, which was chewing on dried grass, pretending nothing had happened.

Well, there’s no other way now.

Charge! Only charge! There’s no retreat!

With grim determination, the wizard pulled the needle from his pocket and lunged at the prince.

Though the prince couldn’t see the wizard under the cloak, his sharp senses detected the murderous intent and the shift in the wind. The prince rolled swiftly to the ground, dodging the first attack, and grabbed the sword he had set aside earlier.

Meanwhile, the wizard… Well, uh, he… Unable to control his momentum, he stumbled and tripped over a rock, falling flat on his face… Yes, well, it’s a good thing the prince didn’t see that! The transparent cloak is quite handy, hahaha.

As he looked at his bleeding knee, the wizard sniffled for a moment. I did warn you at the start, didn’t I? Wizards are naturally a bit frail. They’re not used to physical exertion…

The wizard wiped away his tears with his sleeve. Then, gritting his teeth against the pain of his scraped knee, he gripped the needle again. Charge! There’s… no retreat…!

But just as the wizard sprang up from the ground for a second attack, the prince’s elegant kick landed squarely on his side. “Agh! Ah, ah… I-I’m fine. I’m fine. Ah, it hurts… No, not me, the wizard.”

…The wizard let out a shrill scream. He tried to hold it in, but… that kick was just too painful. The prince ran toward the sound and swung the hilt of his sword at the empty air. Yes, like a club! The frail wizard, unable to mount a proper defense, was helplessly beaten by the prince’s makeshift club—er, sword hilt.

“Ow, stop! Stop hitting me! Please, stop…!”

Without landing a single proper attack, the wizard was left battered and bruised. He collapsed to the ground, covering his face with his arms. After thoroughly thrashing the wizard, the prince glared at the spot where the whimpering sounds were coming from and reached out to where a head might be. Something was caught.

A faint smile played on the prince’s thin, cruel lips. It was a mocking, cold, and savage smile.

The prince roughly yanked off the wizard’s transparent cloak, revealing the pitiful wizard, covered in dirt and scratches from all the falling and tumbling. The wizard looked up at the prince with tear-filled eyes.

Their gazes locked.

The prince suddenly reached out and tugged at the wizard’s curly hair, which resembled the golden mane of his horse. The wizard’s eyes widened in surprise. The prince rubbed his hand on his tunic as if wiping away the touch and said nonchalantly:

“I knew you’d show up, wizard.”

“Y-you… know me?” the wizard stammered.

The prince didn’t answer; he just stared intently at him. The wizard’s face turned bright red as he realized the situation—and how stupid his question had been.

“Ah, no? Wizard? No? What’s a… wizzerd? What’s that?”

Flustered, the wizard tried playing dumb. But the prince’s gaze only grew colder…

“Stop pretending. I remember your face clearly. It’s been twenty-seven years, but you haven’t aged at all. Still look like a boy.”

“No, Your Highness!” the wizard exclaimed in surprise.

“Twenty-seven years ago, you were just a baby! How do you remember that? You’re amazing!”

Wow, what a genius! Truly, Your Highness is incredible! Ah, no… that’s not it. Sorry.

Ah, really… why do I keep making such mistakes?

Forgetting that he had just tried to play dumb, the wizard blurted out such a foolish… yes, truly foolish exclamation. The prince’s gaze grew even colder.

A beat too late, the wizard realized his mistake and covered his mouth with both hands.

“Strange,” the prince said, narrowing his eyes. His gaze was almost pitying…

“I don’t remember you being such an idiot.”

An idiot?! An idiot?!

Isn’t that a bit harsh? Even for an arrogant prince… Calling someone an idiot to their face is a bit much, don’t you think?

Sigh, well…

I suppose there’s no helping how the prince feels.

Of course, it’s natural. The wizard who cast the evil spell on the prince twenty-seven years ago when he was just a baby is both the same person and not the same person as the wizard here now. According to the original story, the appearance of the evil wizard ended on the first page! That is, until the prince started spouting nonsense, rejected his fate of pricking his finger and falling asleep, and ran out of the castle! So, this wizard here doesn’t exist in the original story. Isn’t he just a hastily concocted character to prevent the story’s ending from deviating from the plot? We forcibly stitched together earlier settings to make it work. So, of course, there might be some inconsistencies or character breakdowns! Please don’t point them out! It’s embarrassing!

Wait, no… hold on…

…

…

The prince knows the wizard? The one who cursed him when he was a baby? How is that possible?

Come to think of it, the prince did say this to the knights:

“I’ll start everything over from the beginning.”

Oh, you idiot! Damn it!

The wizard raised a hand and smacked himself hard on the head. The prince flinched and furrowed his brow, looking at the wizard as if he were not just an idiot but a lunatic… But what the wizard had just realized was far more important than that.

It seems the prince… remembers everything.

The beginning of the story.

And the end of the story.

From the beginning to the end, and from the end back to the beginning. The endless cycle of his life and the fate of this world, spinning round and round on a predetermined track.

“And they lived happily ever after…” Where does the story go after <The End>? What happens after you turn the last page of the book? Of course, it loops back to the very beginning. Once upon a time, a long, long time ago…

How horrifying.

I’m sorry, everyone. This is entirely my fault. I didn’t notice the crack in the prince’s soul. If I had noticed it sooner and repaired his soul, I could have told you the familiar, perfect version of the fairy tale <The Sleeping Prince of the Thorn Castle>.

But there’s one silver lining: the crack is only in the prince’s soul, not in the entire world. Once the world starts to crack and crumble, there’s nothing we can do from outside the story.

I’ll put the prince to sleep as quickly as possible.

While the prince sleeps, waiting for the princess’s kiss… I’ll try to repair the cracks in his soul.

…Did the wizard look strange, hitting himself on the head as if possessed? Well, of course… it must have looked strange… Frowning, the prince grabbed the wrist of the self-harming wizard.

Unlike a prince raised in the comfort of a greenhouse, his hands were rough and calloused. Hands weathered by desert winds, with rough skin and hard calluses—the hands of a swordsman.

Feeling the prince’s warmth around his wrist, the wizard bit his lower lip. He had to put the prince to sleep. This was no longer just a trivial incident. It was about the prince’s soul and the survival of this world.

“Wow, Your Highness…?”

The wizard blinked his innocent eyes, alternating between looking at the prince’s face and the hand gripping his wrist. He even blushed a little! How shameless!

“Are you going to play the madman this time? It would be in your best interest to stop this nonsense.”

…The prince wasn’t fooled.

By the way, everyone, doesn’t the prince’s character seem a bit off? His words and demeanor are more like someone who hunts beasts in a snowstorm than a prince raised in a castle…

Well, I suppose this can be fixed once the story is restored to its original state.

Probably…

“Hah, haha… hahahaha! You’ve been saying such strange things since earlier. What nonsense are you accusing me of? Oh, fine! I’m the wizard who cursed you, Your Highness! So what? What’s wrong with that? What did I do wrong?”

When nothing else worked, the wizard decided to brazen it out. He changed his tone and shouted at the prince, veins bulging in his neck.

“Yes! I cursed you when you were a baby! I said you’d die from pricking your finger when you grew up! So what? What’s the big deal? It all worked out in the end, didn’t it? You didn’t die, you just fell asleep! Isn’t that good enough?”

The prince twitched his eyebrow but couldn’t say anything. He seemed a bit startled. After all, he’s the prince. No one had ever dared to confront him like this before.

“And… since you’ve been living in the castle, you might not know this, but there are all kinds of jobs in the world. You have to do something to make a living. I’m an evil wizard. That’s my job. What’s wrong with using my professional skills to curse people? That’s how I make a living!”

“Wait, I…”

The prince opened his mouth with an uncomfortable expression, but the wizard didn’t give him a chance to speak. He shook his head violently and cut the prince off.

“Huh? Huh? No! No! Don’t say anything. Don’t try to lecture me. I know my job is nasty. It’s a job that only earns me hatred. Turning people into frogs, giving them deadly diseases… do you think I enjoy that? But so what? It puts food on my table. Unless you’re going to pay my rent this month or take responsibility for my livelihood for the rest of my life, don’t tell me to quit my job! Don’t meddle in things you don’t understand!”

Did the wizard’s passionate rant about making a living leave a strong impression on the prince? The prince let go of the wizard’s wrist. He furrowed his brow slightly and fell into deep thought.

Now, don’t get the wrong idea, everyone.

The wizard isn’t that much of a beggar. He has enough money to live on even without cursing people. All that talk was just a strategy to distract the prince.

Yes, it was all a strategy!

The moment the prince released his arm, the wizard’s eyes lit up with joy. Now’s the time!

The wizard flicked his sleeve lightly. From deep within the sleeve, a pen made of soft, luxurious gray feathers slid out. He grabbed it and quickly drew a short line in the air.

Then something truly astonishing happened.

Black ink gushed from the tip of the feather pen, and a black line was drawn in the empty air as if painting on a blank canvas. But that wasn’t the only astonishing thing. The short, black line transformed into a gleaming silver needle! A real, tangible needle!

“……!”

The prince, lost in his own thoughts, noticed the anomaly a beat too late. The wizard grinned at him. The prince desperately reached out to stop the wizard, but the needle drawn in the air was imbued with a mysterious power of its own. Even without the wizard holding it, the needle moved on its own, carrying out its creator’s will. The prince grabbed the wizard by the throat, his grip strong enough to choke the life out of him.

At that moment, the needle shot toward the prince’s fingertip, slicing through the air! The prince threw the wizard aside and leaped back. The needle barely grazed the prince’s index finger, leaving a white mark on his pink nail. The prince glared alternately at the magical needle and the wizard, his eyes wide with shock. The needle changed direction. It would not stop moving until it pierced its target.

The needle spun in a small circle in the air. If it had eyes, it would have been sizing up the prince like a predator deciding which part of its prey was the most delicious. As if pondering where to strike, it twitched its sharp tip up and down.

The prince and the needle.

Hmm, the prince and… the needle.

Oh? That could make a pretty good story title, too. Like Jack and the Beanstalk, or The Princess and the Pea…

“Was all that whining just a ruse?”

The prince muttered as he faced off against the needle.

“You’re just too naive, Your Highness.”

The wizard retorted smugly.

“Do people usually take an enemy’s sob story at face value? How did you plan to survive outside the castle with such a trusting and innocent mindset? Goodness! You’re a perfect target for scams!”

The prince let out a hollow laugh, as if finding the situation absurd. But it didn’t last long. Soon, all traces of laughter vanished from his face. Not just the laughter, either. His bewilderment at the self-moving needle, his anger at the babbling wizard—all of it disappeared. His face became as blank as a doll’s, stripped of emotion. The wizard felt a twinge of regret, but…

What could he do?

That’s how it should be.

A prince in a beautiful, happy fairy tale doesn’t need intense hatred, anger, or sorrow. Those are emotions felt by people like you and me, who exist outside the story. Complex, worldly emotions. Even in stories that delve deeply into human psychology, the characters only feel the hatred, anger, and sorrow predetermined by the narrative. Beautifully crafted dolls… But wouldn’t such a life be much happier? Far better than stumbling over unexpected, trivial misfortunes like you or I might.

…Anyway, back to the story.

The wizard, who had been smugly taunting the prince, fell silent. Truthfully, he didn’t have much room to be smug. The wizard focused his will into his fingertips and began directing the needle floating in the air. With a flick of his fingernail, the needle shot toward the prince’s throat like an arrow. The prince blocked it with the scabbard he was holding. Screech, clink… clang!

The needle scraped against the surface of the old scabbard, producing a chilling sound like ghostly nails on a chalkboard. Sparks flew as metal ground against metal. The needle slid down to the tip of the scabbard, embedded itself in the ground, then trembled and flew back into the air.

The prince, watching it with cold, emotionless eyes, tightened his grip on the sword hilt.

Shing.

With a heavy, cold sound, the sword was drawn from its scabbard. Unlike the rusted scabbard, the blade itself was razor-sharp. How should its color be described? Like the frost of dawn? Like the bottom of a silver lake? Like the snowfield where the Queen from Snow White let a drop of blood fall?

The blade held an enigmatic white glow, as if it were not forged from the iron of this world.

The prince set the scabbard aside, letting it fall with a dull thud that scattered grass and leaves. The prince’s horse, peacefully grazing, pricked up its ears in surprise. At that moment, the densely intertwined branches of the forest, which had been blocking the sky like a curtain, rustled and shed their leaves. The branches slowly curled inward, creating a circular opening in the canopy, like looking up from the bottom of a deep well. A beam of sunlight poured through, sliding over the prince and the white blade he held aloft. It was like a halo.

The needle, which had been shaking off the dirt and pointing its sharp tip at the prince, suddenly stopped as if hitting an invisible wall. It twitched, unable to move forward. Yes, it seemed almost… afraid. If a needle could feel fear.

The wizard poured even more of his will into the needle. It wasn’t easy. His fingertips began to tremble, and his lips, which had been chattering nonstop, pressed into a tight line. Beads of cold sweat dripped down his temples.

“What’s going on?”

The wizard asked.

“How… do you have a sword? The king must have forbidden you from having any sharp objects, including needles. Huh? Your Highness?”

The prince’s gaze briefly turned to his sword.

“Who knows.”

Then, with a powerful swing of the blade’s flat side, he struck the needle, which had frozen in place, unable to resist the sword’s aura. The wizard let out a pained groan. A mysterious black liquid oozed from under his fingernails. The needle fell to the ground with a lifeless thud.

The prince, who had subdued the magical needle so easily just by drawing his sword, turned back to the wizard.

“I just had it.”

It was an answer without context. The prince himself seemed unsure how to explain it.

“I woke up. It was my birthday. I pricked my finger and fell asleep. I met the princess. We kissed. I woke up.”

 As if speaking to himself, the prince spoke slowly, pausing between words as he took one step, then another, toward the wizard.

“I woke up. It was my birthday. I pricked my finger and fell asleep. I met the princess. We kissed. I woke up.”

One step, then another.

“And then I woke up again. It was my birthday again. I pricked my finger again. I fell asleep again. I met the princess again, kissed her, and woke up again.”

Another step, then another.

“…And then, at some point, I realized.”

Realized what?

The wizard wanted to ask, but he couldn’t. All his energy was consumed by trying to pick up the twitching needle from the ground.

Move, please move!

The wizard pleaded with the needle. Meanwhile, the prince, holding the gleaming white sword, continued to approach.

“That there is no birth or death for me, or for this world. Only the preserved hundred years—from the moment I wake up on my birthday morning to the moment I’m awakened by the princess’s kiss—repeats endlessly. When I realized that, this sword appeared. I just had it when I came to my senses.”

The prince and the wizard were now only three steps apart, their shadows meeting on the ground to form a long, triangular shape.