Chapter 4: Chapter 4: The Pandemic

Chapter 4: The Pandemic

From the shadows of the grand hall, Chloe—known in secret as Agent C_55—watched the royal wedding unfold. A mix of emotions twisted within her. For five long years, she had lived as a royal, perfecting the art of deception. Now, her true mission—Operation Closer—was about to begin.

Her spy mind understood the strategic implications of the king’s marriage to a former slave. But the other part of her—Chay, the dreamer, the romantic—felt a quiet ache. She had admired the king from afar for years. The love he shared with Seraphina, so tender and true, stood in stark contrast to the coldness that defined Chloe’s own life.

With a heavy heart, she folded away her emerald gown and changed into the plain, sturdy uniform of a student butler. After graduating from high school with top marks, she had chosen the path that would bring her closest to the Inner Castle. Becoming a royal butler was her next step—and her cover.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of her modest dormitory room. Chloe—or rather, Lady Chay—rose to the sound of birdsong. Her sleep had been restless, her dreams filled with flickering images of the wedding and the mission ahead.

Brushing back her raven hair and tying it neatly, she stared into the mirror. Tired eyes. Steady resolve. She whispered a quiet promise to herself and to the man she had sworn to protect: I will not fail you.

Her first class of the day was modern history, taught by Professor Mark Castellanos. The lecture hall buzzed with hushed anticipation. Chloe took her usual seat in the front row.

"The origin of slavery," the professor began solemnly, "lies in the Great Illness—a pandemic that nearly wiped out humanity. Ninety percent of the population perished. And of those who survived, one family remained untouched: the doctors. The Castellanos bloodline."

He paced slowly, letting the gravity of his words settle. "In the chaos that followed, survival demanded structure. The royal family, descended from those immune doctors, took control. They assigned roles to the survivors. And thus, the caste system was born."

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The students listened, rapt.

"The doctors became rulers.

The butlers—the adaptable—maintained the kingdom.

The gards, children of soldiers, became enforcers of peace.

And the corners... those struck hardest by the disease, were left to serve at the bottom."

Chloe’s hand clenched around her quill. The words struck like stones. Somewhere in those lines—between fate and injustice—was her own story. And Seraphina’s.

"But even in darkness," the professor added, "there were always whispers of change."

He looked directly at Chloe—no, at Lady Chay—and said, “The king’s marriage to Lady Seraphina is one such whisper.”

The room stirred. Lady Chay leaned forward, heart fluttering. Something stirred in her chest: recognition, perhaps. Or hope.

She raised her hand.

"Professor," she said softly, "do you believe the king’s choice to wed a former servant is more than just love? Could it be... a statement? A rejection of the boundaries we’ve all been taught to obey?"

The silence was immediate.

Professor Castellanos nodded, impressed. "A bold question, Lady Chay. Stand. Tell your classmates: what do the four classes mean to you? And what does this union mean in the face of our history?"

Chay stood with quiet grace. She steadied her breath.

"The king’s choice," she began, "challenges centuries of unspoken rules. It brings into question the value we place on lineage over character, on birthright over love."

She paused, then added, “But why did we need a royal wedding to start asking these questions? Why did it take a king’s defiance to make us consider equality?”

Whispers broke out in the room. Some students looked thoughtful. Others, uneasy.

The professor smiled, not unkindly. “Insightful. But remember—change is slow. What begins with whispers must grow into voices before it becomes law.”

Later in the class, a student posed a bitter question:

"Was slavery necessary for survival?"

Professor Castellanos didn't flinch.

“Necessary, perhaps. But not right,” he answered. “The elite made choices to ensure humanity’s survival—but at a cost. And now, it is your generation’s burden to ask: how do we move forward from those choices?”

He looked over the class, his voice softer now. “Our job is not to justify history, but to understand it. And maybe... to change it.”

As the lecture ended, the classroom buzzed with debate. Some students whispered of rebellion and hope. Others clung to tradition, unsettled by the idea of change.

But Chloe could feel it in the air—something had shifted.

The seed of revolution had been planted.