I, Sansula Badila, younger brother of Benesha, was entrusted with the honorable duty of guarding Princess Maeve during her time at Utrecht Metropolitan Self-Development School.
This responsibility was given to me because I am the most skilled and disciplined soldier in the DMYD (Dutch Military Youth Division).
King Frederik and Queen Elara personally introduced me to Princess Maeve at their royal palace in Zuid-Holland.
"This man is Sansula Badila," Queen Elara announced. "He will be your personal bodyguard in Utrecht."
I stepped forward and offered a polite smile. "It's an honor and a pleasure to see you again, Princess."
I had first met Princess Maeve at her 18th birthday party.
"The pleasure is mine, Sansula," she replied, returning my smile.
King Frederik raised an eyebrow. "So you two already know each other?"
"He's Benesha's younger brother," Maeve explained. "She brought him along to my birthday party, so we're already acquainted."
The Queen's expression softened. "That makes him even more suited to guard you, don't you think?"
I chuckled. "I still find it fascinating that you and Benesha were in the same kindergarten."
"And we've stayed connected ever since," Maeve said with a nostalgic smile.
Queen Elara nodded. "Not to mention, we've been good friends with your parents for quite some time, Sansula."
Her words caught me off guard. I had no idea my parents had such a close relationship with the Dutch royal family. And now, it seemed my sister's bond with the princess was far deeper than I had ever realized. But I would soon learn why my family had kept this from me...
To fulfill my duty, I had to enroll at Utrecht Metropolitan Self-Development School, where I would serve as the Princess's secret bodyguard.
I aced the entrance exam, scoring a perfect mark, and was personally invited by the school's principal. The meeting was scheduled for July, one month before the school year began. At first, I assumed the invitation was due to my exceptional performance. But I was wrong—it was for something far more significant.
On the day of my visit, I stood before the school gates and pressed the bell. A small camera was attached to it, along with a speaker. A woman's voice called out my name:
"Sansula Badila?"
"Yes," I responded. Moments later, a woman approached the gates. I assumed she was the one who had spoken.
"Welcome, Sansula Badila," she said with a warm smile.
She was strikingly beautiful—fair-skinned, with piercing blue eyes, blunt bangs, and a neatly braided ponytail. Something about her seemed oddly familiar... She bore a strong resemblance to Zipporah, my sister's former kindergarten teacher, who had recently died in a car accident.
"Thank you," I replied.
The woman proceeded to give me a tour of the school. I saw every corner of the vast campus—the state-of-the-art classrooms, the grand dormitories, the bustling shopping mall, the serene park, and more.
"So, what do you think?" she asked.
"I've never seen a school like this before..."
"I know, right?" she said with a knowing smile. "The principal hasn't arrived yet, so why don't you take a moment to relax in the park?"
"What about you?" I asked.
She chuckled. "You'll see me later. Don't worry about it."
And with that, she left me alone in the vast, tranquil park.
As I wandered aimlessly, I felt an unfamiliar sense of loneliness. Even the animals—birds fluttering in pairs, stray cats brushing up against each other—had companionship. Yet I had no one.
The summer heat, a relentless 30 degrees Celsius, began to wear me down. Seeking relief, I leaned against a tree trunk in the shade. Before I knew it, exhaustion overtook me, and I drifted into sleep...
A while later, I stirred awake, my vision still adjusting. I became aware of a figure standing before me.
She was breathtaking—the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. A warm wheat complexion, silky dark brown hair cascading in waves, and striking golden eyes.
She gazed at me with fascination.
"Am I... hallucinating?" I murmured.
The girl let out a soft chuckle.
"Ah! I'm sorry!" I said, suddenly realizing how rude that must have sounded. "I—I didn't mean—"
"It's okay," she reassured me with a bright smile. "I came to pick you up, Sansula."
"Yeah?"
"But you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you..."
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To the principal's office," she answered. "I got an invite, just like you."
"Are there others who were invited?"
"Not that I know of."
"So you also scored perfectly on the entrance exam?"
"Yep!"
Something nagged at me. "How do you know my name?"
The girl's smile faltered slightly. "Don't you remember me?" she asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
I searched my memory, trying to place her. And then it hit me—this was the girl who taught me ballet in primary school. We had danced together.
"Hannah!" I exclaimed in shock.
"Bingo!" she beamed. "I'm so happy to see you again, Sansula. I've missed you. You've grown so much..."
"You've grown a lot too," I admitted, blushing.
She tilted her head teasingly. "Hmm, I see you still get all flustered around me."
"That's because you're standing too close!"
"Right," she said, clearly amused.
Eager to change the subject, I asked, "Did you also get a tour?"
"Yes! Zipporah just gave me a tour of this utopian school. She told me to wake you up and take you to the principal's office afterward."
I froze.
"Wait, who gave you the tour?"
"Zipporah," she repeated casually. "Didn't she give you a tour too?"
My mind raced. Zipporah was dead. She couldn't possibly be here.
Something wasn't right.
"Hannah..." I said cautiously. "Do you happen to know where the principal's office is?"
"No," she admitted. "Hasn't Zipporah told you?"
"She hasn't..."
And that realization sent a shiver down my spine.