VALERIA

It’s not like I have much to pack.

On the bed, I make a small bundle with a few old clothes you’ve donated to me and, most importantly, the money the King gave me.

That’s all I have to survive.

Shielded by the night and the darkness, I wander through the corridors, glancing around fearfully, clearly intending to escape.

I reach the kitchen and search for the back door—obviously, I won’t risk leaving through the main entrance.

When I glance at the counter where the King’s meals are serve