The Dark Fairy King
Chapter 72: A Charade

Chapter 72: A Charade

It was like my thirst for revenge hijacked my instincts.

I wasn’t thinking—just walking.

Right into the crowd.

Straight toward the palace.

From afar, it shimmered—majestic and terrible.

Spires kissed the clouds, gleaming white stone, gilded trim, and crimson banners that fluttered like judgment.

A dream to some.

A gilded cage to me.

Fortunately, my ancient mind kicked in before I did something truly stupid.

Strategise.

That was the whisper.

Strategy had never been my strong suit... but after all these years, I learned.

Learned what happens when you’re rash.

Learned how easy it is for them to lock you up and throw away the key.

And then—

As if fate finally decided to throw me a bone—

I saw them.

A neat cluster of young Love Fairies, standing in perfect rows like dolls in a shop window.

I used to be one of them.

They looked about twenty-one.

Freshly matured. Just beginning their "training."

A prettier word for indoctrination.

How do I know?

Easy. Just listen.

"Oh Doverel, I want to contribute to the Love Fairy Kingdom! It’s meaningful work!" one squealed, twirling in her pink dress like a walking toothpaste commercial.

"Oh Lisa, you know our job is to prevent the extinction of species—I’m excited too!" her friend chimed.

Extinction of species?

Really?

That lie is planted early, and deep.

But if it’s the only story you’ve ever been told...

How would you know better?

Then—mud.

A fat, gloppy puddle right beside the line.

And just like that, a wicked idea bloomed.

I sauntered over, aimed for the last girl in line—

And theatrically tripped.

Right into the puddle.

Gasps rippled like gossip as I rose, dripping in sludge.

Ironically, it covered up the filth on my deranged gown.

Honestly?

Improvement.

"Oh no, did I accidentally trip you?" the last fairy asked, reaching out with genuine concern.

Wait—what?

Kindness?

Here?

I blinked. Took her hand. Stood, wobbling for effect.

"Your gloves—your dress—it’s all ruined!" I gasped, dabbing a little extra mud on her sleeve for good measure.

Right on cue, a shrill voice cracked through the air.

"Young fairies! What is this mess? You two—get cleaned up. Changing room. Thirty minutes. Move!"

An Elder.

Sharp eyes.

Judgmental tone.

Definitely still awful.

"Go on, both of you," she added, glaring directly at me.

Perfect.

I had them.

I was in.

The fairy beside me tugged at my arm, leading me to a small building off to the side.

"Hurry, or we’ll never make it in time," she whispered.

Inside: pastel gowns in rows, glittery gloves stacked neatly.

The air reeked of perfume so thick it could suffocate a bird.

A bathroom sparkled on the right. Miraculously clean.

"Pick anything from the closet after you rinse off," she giggled. "But definitely rinse first."

She turned to me, still smiling.

Bright. Kind. Too trusting.

"Doverel, by the way. And you are?"

I hesitated.

The truth wouldn’t matter.

But I needed to know—

Did my name still ring a bell?

"Scarlette," I said, flashing my best innocent smile.

Nothing.

No fear. No flicker of recognition.

Her next words made that painfully clear.

"Are you twenty-one too?"

I shrugged.

"No. I’m actually over a century old."

Lying’s never been my strength.

Maybe that was always my problem—too honest, then too powerful.

But sometimes, it depends on the receiver.

This one?

She burst into laughter.

"You’re funny! Centuries old—who are we kidding? Come on, we really have to hurry."

And just like that...

The charade began.

No one remembered me.

I followed Doverel—

Partly curious.

Partly watching how excited she was over absolutely nothing.

I missed that innocence.

The kind she still had.

The kind I lost.

"We’re going to meet the King!" she beamed, tugging my arm like we were skipping to a picnic.

"We’ll be given our wands!"

Kiddo, you’re deluded.

We stood in line.

Orderly. Wide-eyed.

Well—they did.

I was calculating.

What if King Baltimore recognizes me?

Should I cause a scene?

Would it even be warranted?

Has he changed?

I mean—yes, he locked me up and forgot about me.

I have every right to want revenge.

But if the people are well...

Maybe I shouldn’t rock the boat.

Not yet.

Then, something caught my eye—

The Hundred-Year Bloom.

Still swaying. Still shimmering.

A quiet defiance.

A reminder.

The nectar stains hair. Permanently.

A grin curled my lips.

If I changed my hair, maybe he wouldn’t recognize me.

He’d be searching for Scarlette the Red.

Not some purple-haired nobody.

A forgotten face.

Faded into myth.

I needed to see him up close.

But safely.

Instinct took over.

Guilt could catch up later.

"No... Elder Arisa will punish you..." Doverel whispered, tugging at my hand.

Too late.

I was already floating upward, drawn to the blossoms.

I reached—

And then—

"Stop that this instant, child!"

A voice. Sharp. Cold. Commanding.

Same elder from earlier.

"Make me," I said sweetly, crushing the petals and smearing the nectar into my hair, watching violet streak through red.

Her face went pale.

"What’s your name?" she snapped, wand glowing faintly.

"Scarlette," I said, smiling with all my teeth. "And you must be Elder Arisa."

Her grip on the wand tightened.

For a moment, I saw it—

The urge to strike.

The flicker of power.

The fear of losing face.

I tilted my head, all innocence.

"Are you... teaching me a lesson in offensive love magic?" I asked, soft as honey.

The wand lowered.

Jaw clenched.

"I will do no such thing," she spat. "Get in line, child. And wipe that smug look off your face. Don’t keep King Baltimore waiting."

Oh no, darling.

This look is permanent.

I turned back, victorious.

Doverel wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Shoulders stiff. Lips thin.

Coward.

Then—

We received our wands.

From the King himself.

I waited in line.

Anxious. Conflicted.

If he recognizes me—do I strike?

If he doesn’t—what then?

Is he still the tyrant I knew?

When it was my turn, he handed mine over.

No flicker of recognition.

No pause.

Nothing.

Did the dye really work that well?

Was it really that easy to go unnoticed? Was he pretending?

Did he erase me—completely? From memory? From history?

I couldn’t tell if I felt rage... or disappointment.

Maybe both.

One thing was certain:

He looked the same.

Arrogant. Detached.

Speaking to young fairies like his presence alone was a gift.

I clenched my wand.

He hadn’t changed.

This won’t be the last time he sees me.

And next time—

He. Will. Remember.

I kept my glare fixed on him as Elder Arisa shoved the next fairy forward.

"We don’t have all day, you know?" she barked at the trembling child.

Love Fairy Elders—abusing power one moment, smiling at royalty the next.

So typical.

What a silly charade.