Early the next morning, a polite knock came at the door.
Celeste opened it to find two soldiers standing outside, their uniforms unfamiliar to the land.
Their sharp eyes spotted the feminine items inside the cave, and they smiled politely. "Greetings. Our prince is seeking a beautiful princess. Might we have a word with the lady inside?"
One soldier held a pair of crystal shoes, glittering in the sunlight.
Ji Zhaoxi's eyes were instantly drawn to them. "Crystal shoes!" she exclaimed.
The soldier's eyes lit up with excitement. "You know what these are?! Would you like to try them on?"
The other soldier whispered, "Hey, calm down. Anyone with eyes knows these are crystal shoes."
His overreaction made them both look foolish.
"I want to try them! I want to try them!" Ji Zhaoxi bounced with joy.
She had never tried on Cinderella's crystal shoes before.
Celeste couldn't understand the appeal—who knew how many people had worn them already? How dirty they must be.
But seeing her excitement, he sighed, helped her put on socks, and took the crystal shoes from the soldiers.
"Celeste, no one wears socks with crystal shoes!" Ji Zhaoxi looked at him as he knelt on one knee before her.
Celeste replied seriously, "It's better you wear them. Who knows what diseases other people's feet might carry."
Ji Zhaoxi hesitated. He had a point. So many people had tried them on.
The soldier at the door quickly interjected, "Impossible! We wash them every time!"
"That's right!"
The crystal shoes, of course, didn't fit, but Ji Zhaoxi was utterly enchanted by them—so shiny and beautiful.
The two soldiers left disappointed, carrying the crystal shoes as they trudged across dozens of hills, yet again unable to find a single person who could wear them.
Ji Zhaoxi sank into the soft bed, her face scrunched in frustration. "Celeste, I want crystal shoes too."
Celeste, who was cleaning the cave, paused. "Alright."
Sunlight spilled across the luxurious terrace. The stargazing platform floated high above the kingdom, flanked by soldiers standing at solemn attention, their eyes fixed straight ahead. They dared not glance sideways at the False Prince climbing the steps with a sword in hand.
Because if they did, they might burst out laughing the very next second.
Unbeknownst to the False Prince, countless people had already laughed at him behind his back.
Now, he hoisted the heavy sword in trembling hands, as if it might crash to the ground at any moment. He trudged up the steps, face pale, gasping after every step.
Not only did he resemble the old king in appearance, but he also shared the old king's habit of panting after every step on the terrace.
What should have been the most sacred moment instead met with a crowd of flat, disinterested stares from the commoners below.
Was that guy weak? Couldn't even lift a heavy sword?
"Prince Celeste was never like this before," someone murmured.
"Right. Prince Celeste fought dragons so many times. No way he'd struggle with a heavy sword."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
Their prince was the only one in the region never abducted by a dragon—a point of immense pride for everyone.
But that proud legacy seemed about to crumble.
Because this prince looked like he'd be snatched away by a dragon any second.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the crowd.
"Could this be a fake Prince Celeste? It doesn't look like him at all."
"I think so too..."
"When the Pope baptized Prince Celeste, didn't he say there was a faint birthmark on the prince's left shoulder? A sign from the gods!"
"Take off your shirt! Take it off! Take it off!"
The False Prince, gritting his teeth as he dragged the heavy sword up the terrace, heard the crowd demanding he strip. His face darkened.
The captain of the guards pretended not to notice anything unusual. She made a gesture, signaling the crowd to quiet down.
Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the faces in the crowd. Who was sowing discord?
But no matter how she tried to suppress it, doubt had already taken root. The past days of strange behavior from the so-called prince had planted deep suspicion in every commoner's heart.
Celeste, having achieved his goal, lowered his head and slipped away from the crowd.
The old soldier watched with barely concealed excitement. As long as the people questioned the False Prince's identity, everything else would fall into place.
Flynn stared at the paper Celeste had handed him, his expression turning serious.
"Your Highness, I'll see it done."
He didn't know what the task was, but he knew everything was for the kingdom.
Celeste gave him a warm smile. "Thank you, Flynn. Just follow the Cinderella standards."
Flynn blinked in confusion. Cinderella? What did Cinderella have to do with anything?
After Celeste left, Flynn unfolded the paper. Inside was a detailed sketch of a pair of crystal shoes from every angle, complete with measurements and a list of gems from the treasury.
Flynn: ...
So the prince was into crystal shoes?
That night, a torrential storm broke out. The once-peaceful forest collapsed into chaos, thunder crashing between mountains as rain battered the leaves without mercy.
The rising water drowned glowing mushrooms and grass. Birds panicked, unable to take flight in such heavy rain.
The deafening downpour grew louder, and Ji Zhaoxi, deep in sleep, only snuggled deeper.
How blissful today had been.
But then, mid-dream, something clicked. She shot upright, dazed, staring at the rain at the entrance.
Was she forgetting something?
Her mind conjured the image of two round, pleading eyes.
Panicked, Ji Zhaoxi leaped out of bed. Her subjects were drowning!
She had already claimed this forest as her own.
"Miss Dragon!"
Celeste watched her charge out into the storm, frowning deeply, and followed without hesitation.
By the time she arrived, the glowing mushrooms were barely hanging on, their roots nearly torn away by the rushing water. If the water wasn't drained soon, they would rot.
Ignoring the rain, she shoved a granite boulder blocking the drain out of the way. Rainwater streamed down her face, blurring her vision.
A silhouette appeared beside her, helping to move the massive stones. The two round eyes anxiously hopped back and forth on a branch, nearly slipping off.
But the drainage ditch wasn't enough. Bending low, carving into the ground with all her strength, Ji Zhaoxi dug several deep, curved channels following the terrain. Finally, the flood began to recede.
The soaked, wilting creatures of the meadow slumped weakly onto the ground.
Exhausted, Ji Zhaoxi panted, her hands covered in mud, even the tip of her nose smudged with dirt.
"I should've checked the drains earlier," she whispered, guilt heavy in her voice.
They had trusted her so much, and she never even thought about this.
Celeste watched the grimy Miss Dragon, then silently lifted her onto his back and began the walk home.
"You've only just become the Forest Priestess, Miss Dragon. It's normal not to know everything yet."
At those words, her face lit up. "Forest Priestess? I love that title."
That sounded so sophisticated, much more refined than Miss Dragon at least.
The fire in the cave crackled and popped, muffling some of the storm raging outside. Ji Zhaoxi had just finished her bath and was lying in bed, her face flushed with a reddish hue from hard labor and the sting of cold rain.
Celeste paused as he caught sight of her complexion. Did dragons run a fever too?
He carefully dried her hair. Just then, her dragon horns suddenly appeared. Ji Zhaoxi felt her head buzzing with a pounding ache.
Instinctively, she rubbed her horns against the towel, her voice soft and tinged with a hint of grievance: “My head hurts…”
The pair of dragon horns, as if seeking a source of warmth, brushed against Celeste’s palm. The ticklish sensation was instantly soothed, and the tension on her face finally eased a little.
Celeste froze. He looked at Ji Zhaoxi, whose face was flushed, and it seemed he had forgotten: she was a real dragon.
And clearly, no one had ever explained to her why this happened. She seemed completely unaware of the changes in her own body.
But then again, given that she had never successfully caught a prince, it all made sense.
Ignoring the dragon horns nuzzling against his palm, he continued to dry her hair with earnest care.
