The Dark Fairy King
Chapter 81: Fragile Harmony

Chapter 81: Fragile Harmony

Doverel and I walked down to the palace courts in silence.

What was there to say to this hypocrite? The less I spoke, the better. For all I knew, she was sent to spy on me. Did I really warrant that kind of suspicion?

Maybe. Fine.

In the palace courts of the Love Fairies, each fairy took their turn to report the number of couples they had united in the past month. We queued at the back, waiting our turn.

Then, of course, she broke the silence.

"I know what you must be thinking," she said.

I tensed, side-eying her. Was she onto me?

"I would feel useless too if I had only made one couple," she added, her tone soaked in syrupy condescension. "If it helps, you do have a nice dress. And if you tried not sitting on your hands next time, you might become the most improved Love Fairy."

I blinked slowly. "I’m... genuinely disappointed that those were your words to me."

She ignored me, turning to chat with the fairy in front of her like I didn’t exist.

Still, I held onto a sliver of hope. That someone—anyone—might see how ridiculous all this was.

"Yes, I’m sure you did your best," Doverel cooed to the other fairy, voice coated in politeness.

Then she turned back to me.

"At first, I thought you had potential. But... did you even try?"

I sighed, loud enough for her to hear. "Doverel, what happened to you?"

She tilted her head with a tight-lipped smile. "I embraced my potential."

And then, with a smirk:

"Don’t tell me you spent the whole day lying on Edna’s bed being sentimental—when you could’ve used that time to boost your score."

My fists clenched.

Was this really Doverel? The fairy I once called a friend?

"You seriously think it’s right to pair people like this?" I asked, voice rising.

"Scar, you can’t say that," she replied sharply, tone suddenly cold. "There’s an order to things."

"And we just follow that blindly? Like headless chickens?" I snapped, incredulous.

"Say what you want," she muttered. "This is why you’re falling behind. We have a duty. You’ve neglected yours."

But she ignored me. Eyes focused on my hair instead.

She gestured to my hair. "Did you not bother to wash off the nectar stains from days ago?" The king won’t like that hair of yours"

Because appearances are more important than morals.

Then, from her pouch, she pulled out a scarf. "Wear this. You know we’re not supposed to be near those purple flowers or touch it’s nectar."

I scowled at it and tossed it aside. "Why does he get to decide what I do with my hair? He’s seen it before—when he gave us our wands."

"Fine, Scar... be stubborn. But no one wants to hear about your ’magic.’ The one you tried to show me?" Her voice softened for a breath, but the edge never left. "I’m only warning you because we’re friends."

"Friends?" I scoffed. The bitterness in my chest flared. "You ran off the moment you had a chance to climb the ladder."

"You would too, if you were in my shoes."

"No, I wouldn’t," I snapped.

She rolled her eyes.

"Why should the king dictate how I use my magic?" I said, louder now. "Why should I be silent?"

A hush rippled through the queue. Heads turned. Whispers began.

"You’re making a scene," Doverel hissed, stepping out of the line and merging with another group.

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

Every eye was on me.

Across the court, Elder Arisa’s glare pierced through me—cold, disapproving.

And then there was him.

The King of the Love Fairies.

His stare wasn’t fiery.

It was worse.

It was quiet.

Still.

Unmistakably furious.

And just like that, the fragile, pretentious "harmony" snapped.

I wished I could take it back—but it was too late.

The spell was broken.

"Fairy with the purple hair!" King Baltimore’s voice cracked like thunder through the court.

Oh no. He’d heard.

Fairies stepped back, scattering like frightened birds.

"What did you say?" he repeated, voice colder now.

I froze.

He couldn’t mean me.

"Repeat it!" he barked.

I lifted my chin and met his gaze. Silent. Defiant.

He looked at me like I was just another nameless fairy. Another cog in his flawless machine.

After everything, did he seriously not recognize me?

"Wait..." he murmured. "Let me take a better look at you."

His eyes scanned me. Something flickered in them.

My pulse quickened.

He should have known me.

We had history.

Sure, I’d been locked away for five centuries—but that wasn’t an excuse. Had I really become so forgettable?

"I thought you looked familiar. But... we’ve never interacted."

Never... interacted?

I saved him from the Dark Fairy invasion.

And he locked me away.

And now? He dared not recognize me?

"And how many couples did you pair this month, little fairy?" he asked, mockery dripping from his voice.

My throat went dry.

"Just a couple," I said, voice small.

His brow furrowed.

"How many?"

I hesitated.

"Just... one."

I raised a trembling finger.

"One?"

His voice thundered through the hall.

"We have a natural order, fairy. Your job is to ensure it. Not to challenge it. And fix that hair immediately."

I took a breath.

Give them a chance. Explain yourself.

"But Your Majesty," I began, "don’t you think people deserve the freedom to choose? To talk? Even to leave toxic relationships?"

Behind me, Doverel flushed red and stepped farther back, distancing herself.

A collective murmur rippled across the court.

Elder Arisa’s glare sharpened like a blade.

"Scar..." Doverel whispered. "Just apologize."

"Apologize?" I snapped, voice cracking. "Never."

The King stepped forward.

"Scarlette, isn’t it?"

His tone was velvet-wrapped steel.

"You will do as you are told. Stop questioning the order. Leave these matters to us. Your job is survival—not rebellion."

I stood frozen.

He stared me down, crowned with authority.

And in that moment, I knew:

No one would speak for me.

Not Doverel.

Not Arisa.

No one.

This was history repeating itself.

They would twist my words into rebellion. Condemn me. Lock me up. Again.

I scanned the room for a hint of solidarity.

A look. A nod. Anything.

But there was nothing.

No fear.

Just judgment. Cold, calculated judgment.

I had thought I could change them.

I thought I could guide them.

But I was wrong.

These fairies?

They were no different from him.

Rotten. All of them.

And King Baltimore?

The worst of them all.

I didn’t need understanding.

I didn’t need a place in their twisted system.

I needed power.

Unfiltered. Unapologetic.

And I was going to take it.

They were all wrong.

Every last one of them.

"Hypocrites," I whispered, my eyes locked on his.

And the moment shattered.