When the doctor told the king he had the same flu, all the other commoners had, the king felt confused and doubted, for a moment, of the color of his blood. "Is it possible that through my veins run red blood as well as it does in my people?" he asked himself; but then, he looked around and saw the walls of his bedroom covered in Da Vinci's paintings, the floor made of marble, the big chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the big canopied bed.
"No" he answered himself, dissipating all his doubts "What was I thinking? It is impossible that I'm like one of them."
The end.
