Chapter 3:field of lilies
Upon hearing her child's cries echoing through the halls of the demon king's castle, the heavenly princess rushed into the dark chambers where her newborn lay abandoned. The child, Tenma, was wailing louder than ever, his small body trembling from the curse that tormented him endlessly.
She scooped him gently into her arms, holding him close to her chest. Sitting on the cold stone floor, the princess began to weep. Her tears fell upon Tenma's head, and as she cradled him, she began to sing a soft, haunting lullaby—a song passed down through the heavens. As the lullaby floated through the air, her tears shimmered like stardust and soaked into the boy's scalp.
Suddenly, Tenma's cries began to fade. His hair—originally as dark as night—began turning snow white where her tears had touched, leaving half of his head glowing with pale purity. For the first time, the child fell silent… not from sleep or exhaustion, but from peace.
Far off in the throne room, the demon king sat on his twisted black throne. Hearing the sudden silence, he scoffed, "She must've finally gotten tired of the brat and killed him." The other wives burst into cruel laughter, mocking the idea that a mortal could survive such a curse for long.
But soon after, the doors to the throne room creaked open. The princess walked in slowly, her face bruised but proud, carrying her baby wrapped in torn heavenly silk. Gasps filled the chamber. The child no longer cried, and his body bore no fresh marks. His hair was now half white, gleaming under the torchlight.
One of the demon king's old wisemen stepped forward, his eyes wide. "This is… peculiar," he muttered. "The white in his hair… It may be a divine blessing—something that softens the pain but does not cleanse the curse. I fear that suffering and calamity will follow this boy wherever he goes."
Tenma and his older half-brother, Raiden, grew up under the same black roof—but they could not have been more different.
Tenma inherited his mother's gentle heart, quiet strength, and compassion. He was kind and curious, though weak in body and born without any of the special powers the demon king's other children possessed.
Raiden, on the other hand, was arrogant, short-tempered, and brutal, carrying his father's wrath in both spirit and strength. Their rivalry became entertainment. Whenever foreign guests visited, the demon king held cruel matches where Tenma and Raiden were forced to fight. Raiden, with his power and pride, beat Tenma within inches of his life time and again—while the guests cheered and bet on the bloodshed.
The princess, now stripped of all dignity, was used as a puppet by the demon king. She was paraded before guests not as royalty, but as a spectacle. The demon king even sold her to nobles and monsters who believed that sleeping with the daughter of the heavenly king would grant them "a taste of divine power."
Tenma, still a child, burned with silent rage. But his mother always sat with him afterward and told him tales—not of revenge or anger, but of a place called the Field of White Lilies.
"It's where souls go," she whispered, "when they live a pure life, even through suffering. It's more beautiful than the heavens. A land of eternal peace where no gods rule, and no king commands. Only joy."
That story became Tenma's escape. His dream. He clung to it tightly.
But dreams shatter.
One day, Tenma returned home to a nightmare—blood stained the walls, and screams echoed down the corridors. His mother lay on the ground, blood pouring from her chest, her final moments claimed by the demon king himself… and by Raiden, who stood beside his father, weapon in hand.
"No…" Tenma gasped, running toward them. He leapt, fists clenched, fury in his heart—but his mother, barely alive, caught him and pulled him close.
She smiled weakly. "Why are you crying, you dummy?" she whispered, her voice soft and cracked. "We'll meet again in the Field of White Lilies… right? Survive for me. Don't give in. Live your life to the fullest… never let anyone keep you down."
The demon king cackled. "That Field of Lilies you believe in? Just a stupid fantasy. A child's dream."
As her final breath escaped her lips, the princess began to sing the lullaby once more—the same one she sang when Tenma was a baby. Her voice, broken and beautiful, brought a strange calm to the boy's soul.
Tenma laid on her chest, listening, letting her warmth and song soak into his memory.
And then… silence.
The song ended. The light faded.
And the white in Tenma's hair began to grow.
TALE OF THE FIELD OF LILIES
The princess always told Tenma stories of the Field of White Lilies—a place that lived beyond the reach of gods and demons, beyond the boundaries of life and death.
"It is not just a dream," she would say softly, her eyes distant yet full of hope. "The Field of White Lilies is a vast meadow covered in endless blossoms of pure white lilies, stretching as far as the eye can see. Their petals shimmer like moonlight, and the air is filled with the soft scent of peace and freedom."
She told him it was a place where those who lived with a pure heart—who suffered but never gave up, who worked hard and held onto hope—would one day be reunited.
"In that field, there is no sorrow, no pain. Only joy. Only happy memories. Imagine all the people you love, waiting for you there, smiling without a single tear. You could meet your mother, your father, your friends—those who passed on before you—free from the pain of the world."
Her voice would soften to a whisper, "The Field of White Lilies is a place where the concept of death does not exist. No one fades away. No one is lost. Wishes flow like the gentle breeze, unlimited and endless. You can dream, you can hope, and every desire can bloom without fear."
"Even the gods cannot enter that field," she said with a knowing smile. "Because it belongs to something purer than power or rule. It belongs to happiness itself. No throne, no crown—only peace."
Tenma clung to this story like a lifeline. In the darkest moments of his life, when his body ached and his heart felt broken, he closed his eyes and imagined that endless field of white lilies, where he could be free—where no one could hurt him ever again