SARAH

• Name: SARAH

• Gender: Female

• Species: Snake demi-human

• Year old: 20

• Status: Alive

• Date of birth: 12/1

• Job: artist/advisor

• Nationality: Kohaku

• Element: Dark

• Personality: Calm, intelligent

The sunset dyed the lake's surface purple. By the water's edge, the Ten Li Wine House glowed in the mist, like a mirage hovering between the human world and a dream.

Inside the wine house, the pipa played slowly - not hurriedly, not sorrowfully, but as if releasing wisps of soulful smoke. The one playing the lute was Sarah Fukubi, a world-famous artist - a sleepwalker between wine and music, not caring about status, living only in the moment.

That night, Kile, the Four Dragon Prince, entered the wine house in a cloak covered in the sand and wind of the border. He needed no introduction, because those eyes - steadfast but full of sadness - said it all.

Sarah did not raise her head, only smiled slightly:

"The prince did not come for wine, nor for music."

Kile sat down, took out a royal token and placed it on the wooden table:

"I came... to ask how to save the dying country."

Sarah poured wine. The dark red liquid glistened in the jade cup like blood that had not yet dried.

“This wine is called Hận Xuân Ly. Once you drink it, all the joys of the past will never return.”

“Do you still want to ask me?”

Kile drank it all. His eyes were brighter, but his lips were silent.

“Father is immersed in dreams of ancient glory. The ministers fight, the people are silent. I am only a second son, no one believes me. But if nothing is done, the Northern invaders will swallow the whole country.”

Sarah put down the pipa and looked straight into Kile’s eyes. That gaze was deep, as if it had seen the collapse of many dynasties, the immortals who dreamed of great things in blood and wind.

“To save a country, do not start from the throne. Start with a mother who lost her child, a homeless girl, an old farmer who is hungry.”

“While they are alive – the country still has a soul. But if you only protect the throne and abandon the people… then even if you win, you will only have dry bones to rule.”

Kile clenched his fists. The fire in his heart burned, but did not explode. It smoldered, like a determination shaped by cruel but honest words.

“You did not teach me strategy. You did not teach me politics. You only talked about people…”

Sarah smiled. That smile was as sad as the blue smoke dissipating in the wind.

“Because strategy can be learned. But the human heart, only you can understand.”

“If you want to become the king of an era, let the people praise your name on the poor rice tray, not in the dusty history books.”

Outside, it was drizzling. A late-season peach blossom petal fell into the unfinished wine cup.

Kile stood up, not taking back the token. His eyes were no longer sad – but carried the coldness of someone who had chosen a path, even if he had to walk alone.

“Sarah... her name is not in the history books. But if I survive... there will be a song about the woman who showed the way to a future emperor, with a cup of wine and a word of truth.”